My Husband Took a DNA Test and Found Out He Was Not the Father, I Took One Too and the Truth Was Even Worse
My MIL hated me from day one. But after I gave birth to Austin, her bitterness sharpened into cruelty.
“All boys in our family look like their dads! Austin looks NOTHING like Paul! He’s BLOND!” she spat, her voice shrill.
Paul defended me, but I saw the doubt flicker in his eyes. It was like poison dripping into him drop by drop.
Then one evening, I walked through the door and froze. Paul sat on the couch, sobbing. My MIL stood over him, her face twisted in triumph.
“Paul, what’s wrong?” I asked.
His eyes were bloodshot. “How could you…? I trusted you!”
“What are you talking about?!”
My MIL shoved an envelope at me. “I did a DNA test. Austin isn’t Paul’s son. You’ve been lying all along. Get out of this house, CHEATER!”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “That’s impossible. I’ve never been with anyone else but Paul!”
But no one believed me. Not my husband, not his family. They treated me like filth. So I decided to fight back. Quietly, I ordered a DNA kit myself. I tested Austin and… me.
When the results arrived, my hands trembled as I tore open the envelope. I expected vindication, a chance to prove them wrong.
But instead, the world collapsed around me.
The test said it clearly. In bold letters: Maternity Excluded.
Austin wasn’t my son.