Austin kept asking where Daddy was and when he was coming back, and I had no idea what to tell him.
I could not believe Paul had fallen for Vanessa’s manipulation so easily. But I also could not entirely blame him. She had shown him “proof.”
Hours went by, and all I could think about was Paul and that stupid test. I kept going over possibilities in my mind, trying to figure out how the result could be wrong. One conclusion I reached was that the lab might not be reliable.
I decided to do a test myself.
So, the following day, I submitted samples from myself and Austin to the lab and waited.
A week later, I got an email with the results.
I sat in front of my laptop, hands trembling, and opened the attachment.
Probability of maternity: 0%.
I knew it! I knew that lab was awful! There was no way that could be accurate.
I’d gone through sixteen hours of labor — I was absolutely, without question, his mother.
I printed out the results and headed straight to Vanessa’s house, because I knew Paul was staying there.
When I arrived later, I rang the doorbell again and again, impatiently, until Paul finally opened the door.