While away on a work trip, I checked the baby monitor expecting peace—only to see a woman I didn’t know tucking my son into bed. She kissed his forehead like he was hers. I called my husband, Logan. He panicked and hung up. My brother rushed over and confirmed the unthinkable: the woman was Logan’s affair, and she said, “When you divorce your wife, Ben will be my son too.”
I flew home and filed for divorce immediately, gaining full custody. Logan begged, but I was done. Weeks later, I found her—Claire—online and booked a styling session under a fake name. Face to face, I revealed the baby monitor screenshot and handed her a therapist’s card:
“Just in case you forget—he was never yours.”
Now, my home is calm again. Just me and Ben. Every night, I tuck him in with love—not because I’m pretending to be a mother…
But because I never stopped being one.
