When my husband went to bathe our adopted three-year-old boy for the first time, he yelled, “We must return him!”

After years of infertility, my husband Mark and I adopted a sweet 3-year-old boy named Sam. But just hours after bringing him home, Mark suddenly shouted, “We have to take him back!”—panicked after giving Sam a bath.

I rushed in and found Sam fully clothed in the tub, clutching a toy. Then I saw it: a birthmark on his foot—identical to Mark’s.

Mark denied everything, but I did a secret DNA test. Two weeks later, the truth: Sam was his biological son from a one-night stand during a business trip—while I was struggling through fertility treatments.

I was heartbroken. But I chose Sam. I divorced Mark and fought for full custody.

Now, Sam calls me “Mama,” and he’s thriving.

Love is more than blood—it’s a choice. And I chose him.

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