They Faked a DNA Test, So I Made Them Test Everyone

They made my son's parentage the butt of a joke. So I made them submit to a three-generation DNA test. On the night of my mother-in-law Celeste's sixtieth birthday, she and her husband, Adrian, used a forged paternity test to turn my five-year-old son into the evening's “surprise entertainment.” My sister-in-law, Tessa, had hidden cameras set up in advance, waiting to capture my reaction when I was accused of cheating. Adrian knew the report was fake, but in front of dozens of relatives and friends, he still called my son a bastard and shoved a prepared divorce agreement at me. After the video went viral, people plastered my son's face across the internet, dug up the name of his preschool, and found the company where I worked. I lost the project I'd spent a year building. My son started waking from nightmares, asking me why Daddy didn't want him anymore. When the truth finally came out, Adrian said, “We just wanted to scare you a little, see if you'd act guilty. It was just a family prank. Why did you have to ruin everyone over it?” In my previous life, I tried desperately to explain myself. In the end, their edited videos and fabricated evidence cost me my child, my property, and my reputation. I died alone on a forgotten winter night. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that restaurant, one minute before the fake report flashed onto the screen. This time, I didn't argue. I held my son tighter and looked at my father-in-law, Graham. “Celeste is right. Owen isn't your biological grandson.”