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.
