On the day my wife gave birth, my world shattered.

My mother and I were outside the delivery room when we accidentally overheard her talking to her assistant.

“Thomas,” Lorena said softly, “I gave birth to twins… but they have different fathers. The one with the birthmark on his hand is yours. The other is my husband’s.”

Thomas' voice trembled with disbelief. “Lorie, are you serious? That’s… impossible!”

“It’s true,” she confessed. “After that night with Blake, I slept with you several times. I wasn’t sure who the father was. So I did a DNA test. And the results... confirmed it. Twins. Different fathers.”

Thomas, overwhelmed with joy, took the child in his arms and kissed Lorena passionately—right outside the delivery room.

My mother saw it all. The shock was too much. She collapsed on the spot and never woke up again.

While I was still sobbing beside her lifeless body, my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Lorena:

“Husband, I’ve decided to go to a postpartum recovery center. I’m only taking one child with me. You’ll take care of the other—think of it as a chance to experience the joys of fatherhood!”

That moment broke something in me. The grief and betrayal collided inside my chest so violently, I coughed up blood.

——

How could I describe what I felt?

The death of my mother.

The betrayal of the woman I loved.

The cruel realization that one of the children wasn’t even mine.

It was like a cold, invisible hand had reached into my chest and crushed my heart.

Before I had time to mourn, a nurse approached me with a baby in her arms.

“Mr. Parker,” she said gently, “please hold your child. He’s been crying ever since your wife left with his brother. Almost as if… he knows his mother abandoned him.”

I turned, my eyes red and swollen, and reached out with trembling hands to take the baby.

In that moment, I begged whatever gods were listening:

Please, let this be my child. Please let her have taken the other one.

But then… I saw it.

No birthmark.

Nothing.

She’d taken Thomas' child—and left mine behind.

She chose his child. Chose him. And left my son behind like an unwanted item.

My heart collapsed. Everything went silent inside me.

Then, another message from Thomas:

“Blake, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of Lorie and her son. I’ll treat him as my godson!”

As if that wasn't enough, he posted on his social media.

The first photo: his hand, interlaced with Lorie’s, a wedding ring gleaming on her finger. My ring.

I’d know that hand anywhere.

The second photo: he was holding the baby—their son—while Lorie leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm was wrapped tightly around her.

“Grateful for the two most important people in my life,” the caption read. “My son, and the woman I love. Even during her confinement, she chooses to stay by my side.”

Friends and colleagues congratulated him, confused but polite.

Only I stayed silent.

I stared at my phone, hands trembling, eyes bloodshot.

A perfect picture of their happy family.

A perfect lie.

A perfect betrayal.

They said they left my child with me so I could "experience fatherhood."

The truth? They just didn’t want my son getting in the way of their fantasy life.

He was just born. So small, so innocent.

And already, his mother didn’t want him.

I looked at the wedding ring on my finger. Slowly, deliberately, I pulled it off and flung it out the window.

Seven years of love.

Gone in an instant.

Left with nothing but betrayal, shame, and the soft cries of a child whose mother had abandoned him.

It should have been a joyous occasion. Instead, it felt like a funeral.

Lorena arranged her mother’s funeral alone, carrying all the grief on her shoulders.

From that day on, she never called me. Not a single message. Not even for the sake of our son.

Even the child, so young, never asked about his grandmother. As if nothing had happened.

That same night, I contacted a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement.

When Lorena returned home, she didn't hesitate—she signed the papers without a word.

Because our child was still an infant, I hired a nanny to care for him.

Life, somehow, had to move forward.

Work couldn't stop, and neither could I.

But the moment I stepped back into the company, I felt the shift in the air.

Colleagues huddled in corners, whispering.

When I passed by, the murmurs stopped—but their eyes followed me, full of mockery, curiosity, and shallow sympathy.

“Did you hear? Miss Lorena gave birth to twins… from different fathers. One of them is Mr. Hardin’s!”

“Shhh! You can’t say that out loud—”

“No, it’s true! I overheard the doctor talking with Miss Lorena the day she gave birth.”

“Thomas even posted it on his Instagram—he said he’s the godfather, but it’s obvious the kid is his.”

“Poor Director Parker… totally in the dark. Miss Lorena cheated, gave birth, and then abandoned his child.”

Their words stung worse than slaps. Every sentence felt like a nail being driven deeper into my chest.

Everyone knew.

Everyone.

And I had become the center of a scandal I never asked for.

I don’t even remember how I made it to my office. My heart felt like it was bleeding.

Before I could collect myself, a colleague entered briskly.

“Director Parker, Miss Lorena just called. She wants everyone in the conference room for a meeting.”

I forced myself to stand, straightened my tie, and walked into the lion’s den.

The conference room was packed. All eyes turned as I entered. Then, the projector flickered on.

There she was—Lorena, still in confinement, holding Thomas' child in her arms. Calm. Collected.

She spoke without hesitation:

“During my recovery, I’ve decided to delegate the company’s presidency to Mr. Hardin. The current project must continue without delay. Whoever secures the deal will receive a generous bonus from the company.”

A hush fell over the room. Then the murmurs began again.

“I thought she’d let Director Parker manage in her absence… He is her husband, after all…”

“Keep your voice down…”

I said nothing. I didn’t have the energy to care.

I was going to divorce her. I would resign soon after. But before that, I had to finish the project—for the sake of my child. He needed milk, clothes, a future.

And so, I threw myself into the work.

Days blurred together. I spent nights rocking my son to sleep and dawns hunched over spreadsheets and presentations.

No rest. No relief.

My body began to break down under the pressure.

When I finally completed the project and met with potential partners, their feedback was overwhelmingly positive.

My effort hadn’t been in vain.

But just as I returned to my office, exhaustion finally caught up with me.

I collapsed.

When I came to, I was in a hospital bed, hooked to IV fluids and scolded by doctors.

But I didn’t care.

That day, the contract was supposed to be signed.

I discharged myself immediately and rushed to the company.

But the moment I stepped into the conference room, I stopped in my tracks.

There they were—Lorena and Thomas—signing the contract with the partner.

My project. My sleepless nights. My sweat and sacrifice.

“Who would’ve thought Mr. Hardin had this kind of capability?” someone whispered.

“I thought Director Parker was in charge of this deal…”

“Impossible. I’ve been managing this project the entire time,” Thomas said smoothly, smiling. “It’s cost me quite a lot.”

And just like that, I understood.

While I was unconscious, Thomas had stolen my work—and taken full credit for it.

“Thomas, when did the project I worked day and night for become yours?”

I stared him down, fists clenched at my sides, fury boiling beneath my skin.

The bastard didn’t even flinch at first—but the moment our eyes locked, and he saw the fire in mine, he faltered.

Guilt flickered across his face. Then, just like a coward, he slipped behind Lorena, using her as a shield.

“Miss Lorena,” he said, feigning innocence, “this project was my work. Director Parker must be exhausted from taking care of the baby—he’s confused, trying to claim credit for something he didn’t do.”

Lorena turned to me, her expression filled with quiet contempt.

She didn’t ask a single question. Didn’t hesitate to doubt me.

Instead, she smiled politely at the confused business partner and said, “Don’t mind him. Since I announced the company would reward anyone who brings in an exceptional project, some people are trying to seize the opportunity—by any means.”

Then she added without blinking, “I believe this project belongs to my assistant, Thomas.”

The partner’s face darkened. He gave me a look of disgust, like I was some kind of pest crawling out of the woodwork.

“I didn’t expect to see someone stoop this low. All that effort… just to steal a little credit?” he sneered.

His words sparked a wave of laughter.

“Director Parker really fooled us all…”

“You truly can’t judge a person by their appearance.”

“Maybe it’s revenge… because of what happened…”

“Shhh! That’s too much, keep it down!”

I stood there—frozen in place, humiliated, a thousand eyes digging into my back.

Like a clown in a tragedy, I was the last one to realize the joke was on me.

I snapped.

With no hesitation, I stepped forward and punched Thomas square in the face.

The sound of the impact was deafening. He staggered, clutching his nose, his mask of innocence shattered.

“I did the damn project!” I shouted, voice hoarse. “You just stole it the moment I passed out from exhaustion. You think I’d let that slide?”

The room erupted into chaos.

Lorena’s expression twisted into a frown. She turned to the staff and said coldly, “Take the partner out. Now.”

She didn’t want clients to see the company’s dirty laundry. Once the doors shut behind them, she turned on me with fire in her eyes—and without warning, slapped me across the face.

The sting was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

She froze the moment her palm made contact, visibly shaken by what she’d done. Her hand trembled as she pulled it back, but the damage was done.

In all our years together—marriage, parenthood, everything—we’d never fought like this.

Never hit each other.

Never even raised our voices.

And now, for the first time, she chose him.

“Have you lost your mind?” she snapped. “Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me today?”

Her voice cracked with fury. “If you need money that badly, just say so. Don’t act like a child stealing credit from others.”

Even now, she didn’t believe me.

Even now, she didn’t bother to ask.

Thomas stepped in with a show of false humility, his voice sickeningly soft. “Miss Lorena, please don’t blame Director Parker. I don’t want to come between you two.”

You already have, I thought bitterly.

You slithered in between us the moment her heart left mine.

I let out a laugh—dry, broken, hollow.

Tears welled in my eyes, not from the slap, but from the crushing weight of betrayal.

Lorena’s eyes flickered with hesitation when she saw me like that. She looked as if she wanted to say something—maybe an apology, maybe a lie—but I didn’t give her the chance.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out my employee badge, and tossed it on the floor.

“Lorena, I’ll send you both the divorce papers and my resignation later today.”

With that, I turned and walked out, leaving everything—my dignity, my love, and that hollow shell of a marriage—behind me.

She stood frozen, stunned. She hadn’t expected me to be the one to end it.

Just as she started toward me, Thomas caught her wrist.

“Lorie, let’s go. Your mom called just now. The baby’s been crying nonstop.”

“I think… he misses his mother.”

That was all it took. The thought of his child—their child—was enough to make her forget me entirely.

She didn’t chase after me.

She didn’t call out my name.

She turned her back and left with him.

I stood outside, watching her disappear down the corridor. My heart hardened.

So there really was a child waiting for her.

She had a son crying for her, hoping for his mother’s arms—and it wasn’t mine.

It wasn’t ours.

The moment I got home, I heard my son crying in the next room.

The sound broke me.

I rushed in and held him close, his tiny body trembling in my arms.

His cries were filled with confusion and pain, too young to understand abandonment—but old enough to feel it.

His mother was out there, cuddling someone else’s baby.

And she hadn’t called once to ask about him.