My Husband’s DNA Test Proved He Wasn’t the Father—But My Own Results Revealed an Even Darker Truth

He refused. She left, muttering, “You’ll see I was right.”

For a while, things were calm. Then one night, I came home to find Caleb sitting on the couch, head in his hands—Helen beside him.

“Where’s Lucas?” I asked.

“He’s at your mom’s,” Caleb said flatly.

My stomach knotted. “What’s going on?”

Caleb threw a paper at me. “Explain this.”

It was a DNA test. Probability of paternity: 0%.

I stared at it, numb. “You… you took a test?”

Helen answered, “I did. I sent samples from Caleb’s toothbrush and Lucas’s spoon. The results don’t lie.”

“I never cheated on you!” I screamed. “This is wrong!”

Helen folded her arms. “You’ve been caught.”

“No! You hate me so much you’d fake something like this?”

She just smiled.

Caleb’s voice cracked. “I need space. Don’t call me.”

He walked out. Helen followed.

That night, I could barely breathe. But I knew I hadn’t betrayed him. So I ordered my own DNA test with Lucas—determined to prove the truth.

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