I rushed to Sam, who sat in the tub clutching his stuffed elephant. As I helped him undress, I noticed the birthmark—a distinctive shape identical to one on Mark’s foot. My mind raced.
Later, I confronted Mark. He brushed it off as coincidence, but his reaction told me everything. The DNA test I ordered confirmed the truth: Mark was Sam’s biological father.
When I confronted him, Mark confessed to a one-night stand years ago. His shame and fear had driven his reaction to Sam. “I didn’t know,” he pleaded. But his panic showed he had suspected from the start.
I filed for divorce and sought full custody of Sam. Mark didn’t fight me. While Sam adjusted quickly, he occasionally asked why his dad no longer lived with us. I explained gently, offering reassurance of love.
Years later, Sam is thriving, and Mark remains distant. Despite the betrayal, I have no regrets. Sam is my son in every way that matters, proof that love is a choice we make, no matter the challenges.