Chapter 6
I did not want the baby’s DNA report.
That is the part people never understand.
They think revenge makes every answer delicious.
It does not.
Some truths arrive carrying children.
And children should not be used as weapons just because adults deserve consequences.
I told Kenneth that.
He agreed.
“The child’s welfare comes first.”
“Then why involve the DNA?”
“Because Connor is using the child in legal filings.”
I went still.
“What filings?”
Kenneth sent the document.
Connor had filed a petition related to my old frozen embryo dispute.
A dispute I thought had ended during the divorce.
He was claiming emotional damages from the fertility clinic, arguing that my infertility had deprived him of fatherhood for years before Melinda “gave him the family he deserved.”
There it was again.
The family I could never give him.
He was not just insulting me.
He was monetizing the lie.
The baby’s DNA became relevant because Connor’s claim relied on the public story that he was naturally fertile and had conceived with Melinda easily.
The hospital’s genetic review did not identify the biological father by name.
But it excluded Connor.
Completely.
No match.
Kenneth said, “We can keep the child’s information sealed.”
“Do that.”
“I already requested it.”
“Good.”
I stared through my office window at the hospital courtyard.
Parents pushed strollers below.
Children in tiny coats chased pigeons.
Life continued, indifferent to legal cruelty.
“Does Melinda know?” I asked.
Kenneth was quiet.
“I think she knows enough.”
That afternoon, Melinda came to my office without Connor.
Her eyes were swollen.
She looked at the chair opposite my desk and did not sit until I nodded.
“I didn’t know about your records,” she said.
I believed that.
It surprised me.
“Which records?”
She flinched.
“Connor’s.”
The air changed.
I sat back.
“So you know now.”
She nodded, crying.
“He told me after Noah was born.”
“Why?”
“Because I found medication in his drawer.”
“What medication?”
She named a hormone therapy used sometimes in male fertility cases.
Old prescription.
Years old.
“He said it was nothing.”
“Then I kept asking.”
“And?”
Melinda covered her face.
“He said you were the one who couldn’t carry.”
“He said his issue was temporary.”
“He said you destroyed him.”
I did not comfort her.
Not yet.
She lowered her hands.
“There is something else.”
I already knew.
But I let her say it.
“Noah is not Connor’s.”
The room seemed to hold its breath.
“Does Connor know?”
May you like
Melinda whispered, “Not yet.”
Read the full story 👉 Connor tried to profit from blaming Kirsten for infertility, forcing the DNA evidence to become legally relevant.
