My mother-in-law never liked me. She didn’t have to say it outright—I saw it in her eyes, the way she corrected me in front of others, the constant comparisons to Adam’s ex. Denise was never subtle about her disapproval. Coming from a modest family without country clubs or brunch traditions didn’t help my case. And when Adam and I eloped, denying her the wedding she wanted to orchestrate, she made her opinion loud in the quietest ways.

Still, I had hoped the birth of our son would soften her. And at first, I thought it had. She came over a week after I gave birth, held our baby with a smile, cooed over him as if she cared. Then she disappeared. Ignored texts. Canceled visits. A wall of silence.

I didn’t know, then, that behind that silence a storm had been brewing.
One night, after I finally got the baby down, Adam joined me on the couch. He looked tense. Uneasy. Something was off. That’s when he told me—his parents had been talking about a DNA test.

They had read some article about paternity fraud, and now, they wanted “clarity.” He used their words—“just to clear the air.” I stared at him, waiting.