The DNA Results Arrived… And Destroyed My Last Theory
When the email notification finally appeared on my phone, my hands shook so hard I could barely tap the screen.
I expected the worst.
Another woman.
An affair.
A secret double life.
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But the truth?
The DNA did not belong to a woman.
Not a lover.
Not a stranger.
It belonged to a child.
A girl.
Around 9 years old.
My legs gave out.
My breath caught in my throat.
Why would my fiancé have a child’s hair in our shower?
Whose child?
And why was he hiding her?
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And then, like a punch to the stomach, a second detail appeared:
The child was genetically related to James.