Chapter 1: They Made My Son the Joke

They made my son's parentage the butt of a joke. So I made them submit to a three-generation DNA test.

On the night of my mother-in-law Celeste’s sixtieth birthday, she and her husband, Adrian, used a forged paternity test to turn my five-year-old son into the evening’s “surprise entertainment.”

My sister-in-law, Tessa, had hidden cameras set up in advance, waiting to capture my reaction when I was accused of cheating. Adrian knew the report was fake, but in front of dozens of relatives and friends, he still called my son a bastard and shoved a prepared divorce agreement at me.

After the video went viral, people plastered my son's face across the internet, dug up the name of his preschool, and found the company where I worked. I lost the project I’d spent a year building. My son started waking from nightmares, asking me why Daddy didn’t want him anymore.

When the truth finally came out, Adrian said, “We just wanted to scare you a little, see if you’d act guilty. It was just a family prank. Why did you have to ruin everyone over it?”

In my previous life, I tried desperately to explain myself. In the end, their edited videos and fabricated evidence cost me my child, my property, and my reputation. I died alone on a forgotten winter night.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that restaurant, one minute before the fake report flashed onto the screen.

This time, I didn’t argue.

I held my son tighter and looked at my father-in-law, Graham.

“Celeste is right. Owen isn’t your biological grandson.”

...

Silence fell over the long table.

Tonight was Celeste’s sixtieth birthday. The Bellamy family owned seven seafood restaurants in Lakehaven, and after the party, Graham had planned to announce this year’s distribution from the family trust.

The projection screen in the center of the hall had been playing a slideshow of Celeste in her younger days.

Then, a minute ago, the image had flickered and changed to a paternity test report.

It read: Adrian Bellamy and Owen Bennett—biological father-son relationship not supported.

Celeste gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in a flawless pantomime of shock.

“Nora, what is this supposed to mean?”

Tessa immediately swung her phone camera toward Owen.

“No wonder he doesn’t look anything like our family. You travel all year for trade shows, sis-in-law. Is this what you’ve really been busy with?”

Adrian, sitting beside me, didn’t look at the screen. He didn’t even glance at Owen, who was curled up in his chair.

He simply pushed a manila envelope toward me.

“Now that it’s out, you can stop pretending.”

“Whose bastard is he?”

In my last life, this was the moment I lost control.

I’d rushed over, yanked out the projector cable, and sobbed, insisting Owen was his son. Celeste then produced the fake report she had prepared in advance, and Tessa edited my breakdown into a seventeen-second clip titled “Cheating Wife Exposed.”

But now, I saw words hanging in the air.

【Don’t deny it. The report is fake, but the camera is real.】

【There’s a phone hidden in the vase beside the projector. It’s livestreaming.】

【Adrian knows everything. They want footage of you falling apart so they can force you to sign the divorce papers before the trust distribution.】

【Admit it. Celeste’s thirty-two-year-old secret will explain the rest.】

So I said to Graham, “Owen isn’t your biological grandson.”

A flash of triumph, too strong to suppress, crossed Celeste’s eyes.

“You all heard her. She admitted it herself.”

Tessa was laughing so hard her shoulders shook.

“This reaction was totally worth it.”

The second she realized she’d said too much, she snapped her mouth shut.

Adrian grabbed my wrist.

“Nora, sign the agreement. I can still leave you with a little dignity.”

I shook him off, walked to the projector, and pulled the overheated phone from the vase.

Comments flew across the screen in a dense blur. In the top corner, a timer showed the livestream had been running for twenty-six minutes.

Some viewers had recognized the Bellamy family restaurant.

Some had already screenshotted Owen’s face.

Others were asking when the “lying mother and son” would be thrown out.

I set the phone down on the table, opened the voice recorder on my own phone, and dialed 911.

“I need to report a crime. Someone has forged a paternity test and is livestreaming me and my minor child without our consent. They've publicly defamed me by accusing me of adultery and are now using this to coerce me into signing a divorce agreement.”

Adrian’s face went dark.

“Nora, are you insane? We just wanted to scare you a little, and you called the cops?”

I lowered my eyes to the document he’d pushed at me.

The title read: Dissolution of Marriage and Waiver of Property Agreement.

“A fake report, a hidden livestream, insults hurled at a child, and a divorce agreement prepared in advance.”

I met his gaze. “This is what you call ‘scaring me a little’?”

At the far end of the table, Graham set down his wineglass with a heavy thud.

“Is the report real or fake?”

Celeste answered immediately. “Of course it’s real.”

I smiled.

“Then let’s redo it at a legally accredited lab.”

“We’ll test all three of them. Graham, Adrian, and Owen. A grandparent-grandchild test and two father-son tests. We test everyone.”

The color drained from Celeste’s face.