The following weekend, I hosted a “neighborhood BBQ.” I invited Lisa, Dylan’s mom, and my husband—neither knowing the other would be there. Over dinner, I calmly dropped the truth: “I had a DNA test done.” The color drained from their faces. Silence followed, but I was done with silence.I looked my husband in the eye. “Pack your things. You’re leaving. The house is mine. The lawyer’s already informed.” His reputation, his secrets, his life—ruined in one evening.
