Chapter 1

When the nurse drew blood for Lily Cater's test, she glanced at the results, then looked up at me with a strange expression. "Are you sure this is your biological child?", her voice hesitant.

I was stunned, standing there, not knowing how to respond, "What do you mean?"

The nurse pointed to the blood type section on the report. "You're O-type, and the child's father is A-type. But this child is AB-type. That's genetically impossible."

I stared down at the report, my mind blank.

My hands started to shake uncontrollably.

*****

My name is Emily Grant. I'm thirty-four years old.

I've been married for nine years and have three kids.

My oldest, Sophie Carter, is eight.

Alex Carter, my second, is a six-year-old boy.

Lily Carter, the youngest, is three and a half.

I always thought these three kids were my greatest pride.

They were healthy, smart, and sweet.

I quit my job for them.

I stayed up countless nights for them.

I even gave up grad school for them.

But now, a single lab report changed everything.

Lily wasn't really mine.

On the way home from the hospital, I didn't say a single word.

Lily sat in her car seat, snacking on a cookie. "Mommy, I want strawberries."

I glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

Her round face, big eyes, and those dimples when she smiled

I always thought she looked like me.

Everyone always said she was my little twin.

But blood types don't lie.

There's no way someone with O-type and someone with A-type blood could have an AB-type child.

That's middle school biology.

When I got home, I handed Lily over to Linda Carter, my husband's mother. "Linda, I'm heading out for a bit."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I need to take care of something."

I didn't explain any further.

I drove straight to a DNA testing center in the city.

I kept it all to myself.

I used the leftover sample from Lily's last checkup, along with my own.

Three days later, the results came back.

The results excluded any biological relationship.

It was all there in black and white. [Probability: 0.00%.]

I stared at those words for a long time.

Then, I made my second decision.

I found the blood cards from Sophie and Alex's last school checkup in their backpacks.

I sent those, along with my own sample, to the testing center.

While waiting for the results, I kept up the routine; cooking, dropping the kids off at school, chatting with David Carter, my husband, as if everything was normal.

When he got home from work, he'd change his shoes, flop onto the couch, and start scrolling through his phone. "Dinner tastes great tonight."

"Yeah," I replied.

"Lily's teacher said she's been behaving really well lately."

"Yeah."

He didn't notice anything was off.

On the fourth day, the testing center called, "Ms. Grant, all three results are in."

"Okay, I'll come pick them up," I replied.

When I got to the center, the staff handed me three reports.

First, Sophie. Excluded.

Second, Alex. Excluded.

Third, Lily. Excluded.

Three kids, none of them were really mine.

I sat in the waiting area, staring at the three reports.

The sun was shining outside.

A young mom walked in, holding her baby, chatting and laughing with the staff.

I folded the reports, slipped them into my bag, zipped it up and got to my feet.

As I left, I checked my phone.

David had messaged me: [What do you want for dinner? I'll pick up groceries.]

I replied with one word: [Whatever.]

Then I turned off the screen.

Eight years.

Three kids.

None of them carried my blood.

My hands didn't shake.

But I knew, from this moment on, something inside me was broken.

Broken beyond repair.

On the way home, I didn't cry.

My mind kept circling one question.

If none of the three kids were really mine, then who was their real mom?

Who did my husband have these three kids with?

And how did he pull it off, making me believe all this time that they were mine?

Eight years.

Three pregnancies.

Three deliveries.

I remembered every moment of pain.

I remembered the day Sophie was born, signing that critical condition form while lying on the operating table.

I remembered when Alex had high jaundice after he was born, and how I sobbed in the hospital hallway, holding him tight.

I remembered falling a month before Lily was born, bedridden for weeks to keep her safe.

Were those memories even real?

Or were my memories fake, too?

I got home and pushed the door open.

Sophie was doing her homework.

Alex was watching cartoons.

Lily ran over and wrapped her arms around my leg, "Mommy."

I looked down at her.

I bent down and lifted her into my arms.

David poked his head out from the kitchen. "You're back? Dinner's ready."

"Okay," I said.

I put Lily in her high chair.

Then I sat down to eat with my family.

At the table, I looked across at David.

He was serving Alex some food.

What kind of person was he, really?

After dinner, David went to wash the dishes.

I grabbed his phone, saying I'd charge it for him.

He didn't think much of it.

I went into the bedroom and closed the door.

I turned on his phone.

The password was Sophie's birthday.

I scrolled through his photo album.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then I scrolled through his WhatsApp.

Still nothing unusual.

I paused, then opened the phone's hidden album feature.

It needed a separate password.

I tried a few passwords.

The password was my cousin Jessica Grant's birthday.

It unlocked.