Nothing prepares you for the moment your husband looks at your newborn child and says, “She doesn’t look like me.” That’s exactly what happened when our daughter Sarah was born. Alex demanded a paternity test, and even though I was hurt, I agreed, knowing the truth would come out.
What followed was worse than I imagined. His family turned against me, his mother making veiled threats about what would happen if the test didn’t go their way. Alex barely spoke to me, as if he’d already decided I’d betrayed him.
When the results proved he was the father, he tried to backtrack—apologies, excuses, promises to do better. But the trust was gone. Then, I discovered the real reason for his doubts: he’d been cheating on me with a woman from work.
I didn’t hesitate. I filed for divorce, and with proof of his affair, the judge awarded me everything—the house, the car, and full custody of Sarah. By the time Alex realized what he’d lost, I was already starting over.
