The happiest day of my life—my son’s birth—was also the day my world shattered.

After 21 years of marriage and countless fertility treatments, I finally became pregnant at 40. Ethan, my husband, once supportive, had grown distant. He barely reacted to the news of my pregnancy and refused to be in the delivery room. When he finally arrived, his first words were: “Are you sure he’s mine?”

I was stunned. Then he pulled out “proof” from his mother—photos of me supposedly meeting another man. She even accused me of switching babies at the hospital. I denied it, but Ethan believed her.

Heartbroken, I turned to my best friend Lily. She followed Ethan… and saw him entering another woman’s home. I hired a private investigator. What she uncovered crushed me: Ethan had another family—with three children. He’d secretly been stealing from my inheritance for years. Worse, he’d tampered with my fertility treatments.

I filed for divorce immediately.

When Ethan returned days later, I confronted him with everything. “Name your three kids,” I said. He went pale. I handed him the divorce papers.

Now, my son and I are free. I whispered to him that night, “You will grow up loved. Truly loved.”