I tried to act normal, but inside, I was crumbling. Later that night, I secretly collected strands of my husband’s hair. The next day, I did the same with Dylan’s. Days later, I opened the DNA results—99.9% match. Dylan was his son.The betrayal was unbearable. My husband had a child with our neighbor, and I had been blind to it for years. But instead of collapsing, I planned his downfall.
