My mother-in-law Gloria’s obsession with proving that my son Logan wasn’t truly part of our family had long been a sore subject. For years, she’d dropped insinuations and sly comments about my “questionable fidelity” ever since Logan was born. I never imagined that her desperate need for proof would one day lead her to secretly take a DNA test—and that what she discovered would shatter everything she thought she knew about herself and our family.

I wish I could say I was surprised when, one afternoon, I discovered an empty DNA test kit hidden away in Logan’s nursery. I’d been tidying up his tiny room, folding his soft onesies and checking on his crib, when I noticed a small, discarded box tucked behind a drawer. My hands began to tremble with anger and disbelief. How could Gloria have done this without even telling me? The thought sent a surge of fury through me, but it also sparked a deep concern for the integrity of our family secrets.

Gloria had been very vocal about her suspicions. One day, as I was changing Logan’s diaper, she leaned over the crib with that piercing, scrutinizing look that I had grown to despise. “You know, Mia,” she said coolly, “I just can’t see any of Dylan in him. Look at him—he doesn’t have our family’s eyes, or nose, or… well, nothing like us really.” I took a deep breath, reminding myself of what my therapist had advised, and answered, “He’s only three months old, Gloria. Babies change as they grow.” But her gaze never wavered; she simply hummed dismissively and continued with her own plans.Her constant insinuations about my faithfulness and about

Dylan’s paternity had always annoyed me, but I had tolerated them for the sake of family harmony. Dylan, ever the adventurer, was off in Antarctica leading a research expedition that would keep him away for months. His absence, I now realized, had emboldened Gloria to voice her baseless accusations even more. Perhaps she felt that without Dylan around, she could finally expose what she believed was the “truth” about Logan’s origins.