It Was Christmas When My Wife Died Giving Birth – Ten Years Later, a Stranger Came to My Door with a Devastating Demand

I didn’t respond. I just turned, opened the door, and let him follow me inside.

We sat at the kitchen table, the one Katie had chosen when we were still making plans.

The air felt thick, like it had shifted in pressure.

I opened the envelope with numb fingers.

Inside was a paternity test with my name and Katie’s name. And his.

Spencer.

And there it was: clear, clinical, and final.

Spencer was my son’s father — in all 99.8% of a DNA match.

I felt like the room had tilted, but nothing around me moved.

Spencer sat across the table without speaking. His hands were clasped in front of him, knuckles pale.

“She never told me,” he said finally.

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