“Here’s $5,000. I truly believe the baby is mine, but once I get back in a few days, let’s do a DNA test just to be sure.”

Her heart skipped a beat. The words hit her like cold steel, echoing through her chest with a sharp, metallic thud. She reread them, convinced her exhaustion was playing tricks on her. But no—they were still there. Unfiltered. Unforgiving. And deeply wounding in their simplicity.

Claire had never been unfaithful to Samuel. Not once in the six years they’d shared a life together. She had loved him with unwavering loyalty—enduring the long nights he spent at the office, the endless work trips, the way his career always seemed to take priority over their time together. She had felt overlooked, yes. Lonely, often. But disloyal? Never. And now, lying in a hospital bed, raw and aching from childbirth, she was being met not with love or reassurance—but with doubt. Doubt that pierced deeper than any scalpel ever could.

Her mind drifted back to that night, nine months earlier. A brutal winter storm had swept through Chicago, leaving her stranded alone in their apartment for days. Samuel had been gone—again—on a business trip. With the power out and the city paralyzed, she had found comfort in the kindness of their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Ramos. The two of them had shared food, candles, and quiet conversation as the snow piled up outside. That was it. Nothing more. Nothing that should ever justify the suspicion Samuel now harbored.