The Nanny's Secret, The Wife's Revenge

nurse was cheerful, telling me seven-year-old Jace had

lood run cold. "It's a good thing we h

I are both O-negative. It

truth. Jace was not my son. He was Christ

en years, I had been raising my husband's

hool, was a lie. The man I had spent years searching for after a car a

nipulated DNA test, Christian made a fatal mistake. He

onfirmed h

would find my son, and then I would

pte

vate school came on a Tuesday. The nu

ound. He's perfectly fine, just a scrape, but he'll need

my throat, but her

y? Can I t

he chirped. "It's a good thing we already had his blood type o

old, a sudden, sharp chill that had

ood type was?" I asked,

in her tone. "I thought you'd said you and your husban

t funny. It w

sitive child. It's basic biology, a simple

one, and stood frozen in the middle of my sun-drenched living room. My perfe

Either Jace was not my husband Ch

ths. I had endured twenty hours of labor. I had felt him k

ly devastating possibility.

ismatic tech CEO, the man who was publicly lauded as a devo

ded p

hile a gaping hole tore through my reality. I hired a private lab, using a toothbrush from Jace' s bathroom and one of my own hairs. I told

n Friday afternoon. The subject line

scanned the jargon until th

TY OF MAT

o percent. Jace, the boy I had rai

ty with Christian Norman at 99.99%. And then, the final, twisting knife. A secondary analysi

idy

ter Jace was born. The former physical therapist who had helped Chri

tilting. My entire marriage

and his mistress had swapped my baby at birth, placed

report had no information on tha

old against my skin. I called my best friend

's wrong? You

a strangled sob. "Bri

said, her tone sharpe

he's no

on the other end. "What the

The blood type. The D

up I made you sign. The infidelity clause. We'r

silly piece of paper between two people who would be together forever. He had s

her

otification popped up on my screen. I

NA test. A sample of your biological son's hair was used by

t me further, had accidentally given me

n was

Christian and Kassidy. The cold, hard facts were lai

e taking over. Tears I didn' t know I had

What had they don

hearts. He was the golden boy, I was the aspiring designer. We were inseparable. After college, he was in

flyers, hired private investigators, followed dead-end leads until I was thin a

iracle. He was found. He was alive, living in a small town, but he had amn

him back to health. She was older, plain, nothing like t

me away, his eyes cold and unfamiliar. It was Kassid

k him to our old haunts, showed him photos, told him stories. I

r, my own strength depleted from the years of searching. When I got pregnant w

se had burned down, that she had nowhere to go. I felt sorry for her. Christian had

her become

s so thick i