Another Woman’s Son
— Your husband is the father of my child.
With these startling words, a stranger approached Christine as she quietly enjoyed her lunch. Making herself comfortable across from her, the woman seemed to wait for any kind of reaction to her bold claim.
“And how old is your little one?” Christine replied, completely unphased, as though such announcements were an everyday occurrence.
“Eight,” Marina answered, pursing her lips in frustration. This was not the shock or outrage she had been expecting! No denial, no accusations, not even a hint of disdain?
“Wonderful,” Christine smiled slightly and returned to her delicious cherry pie — served only at this particular café. “We’ve only been married for three years, so anything that happened before me isn’t relevant. Just one question — does Arthur know?”
“No,” the woman retorted, leaning back in her chair. “But it doesn’t matter! I’m demanding child maintenance! He will pay, do you understand?”
“He will, of course,” Christine agreed. “My husband adores children, and if he’d known sooner, he certainly would have wanted to be part of your son’s life. What’s his name, by the way?”
“Ethan,” Marina replied automatically, then frowned. “Don’t you care that your darling husband has a child with another woman?”
“As I said, anything before our marriage doesn’t concern me,” Christine’s soft smile didn’t leave her lips. “I knew perfectly well I was marrying a grown man, not some innocent lad. Naturally, he had a past, and that doesn’t bother me. What matters is that I’m the only one now.”
“Fine. See you in court. You’d better get ready to fork out, because I’ll be demanding everything my son is legally entitled to.”
With that, Marina left, leaving behind an overpowering scent of perfume. Christine struggled not to grimace — it was as if the woman had doused herself in half a bottle.
“Go ahead, try your luck,” Christine mused philosophically, finishing the last bite of her pie. “I wonder how you’ll react when you find out Arthur’s official salary is only thirty thousand? The business is in his father’s name… Plus, he’s caring for his elderly, ill mum at the moment. You’ll barely see a penny.”
Christine even felt a little sorry for the innocent boy. Maybe she should pay them a visit, see how they lived, and perhaps arrange a decent monthly sum for the child — provided Ethan really was Arthur’s son. She’d met women like this before…
*********************
The DNA test was done quickly — when you have money, many things are resolved with the snap of a finger. The result was clear: Ethan was indeed Arthur’s son.
In fact, Christine found the boy unnervingly quiet and withdrawn. What eight-year-old sits motionless and silent for ninety minutes while paperwork is filled out? He didn’t ask for cartoons, didn’t run about, didn’t make a sound… Nothing like other kids his age forced to wait around.
It was odd. Christine was now even more certain she should visit this new “relative.”
The flat was in a posh part of town, with a concierge at the entrance, two bedrooms, modern decor, everything top-notch.
Christine made note of these things, unable to fathom why a woman living in such comfort could complain of being hard up.
“Court’s in a week,” Marina grumbled, letting her in. “You could have waited to talk there.”
“I wanted to get to know Ethan a bit better. Arthur is keen to be involved in his life — maybe take him on weekends, once he’s settled.”
“As if I’d let him!” Marina bristled.
“The court will decide,” Christine replied coolly. “He’s the boy’s father — it’s his right. But… I don’t see a single toy around here?”
“I don’t have spare money for that nonsense,” Marina said dismissively. “Can barely afford him clothes, never mind toys.”
“Seriously?” Christine glanced pointedly at Marina’s designer handbag, the expensive clothes strewn over the sofa, the premium cosmetics beside the mirror. “You’re short of cash?”
“I’m still young. I want a family — that’s not your business,” Marina snapped, bristling at Christine’s tone.
“And who looks after your son while you’re out at all hours?” Christine pressed, beginning to understand why Ethan seemed so quiet and detached.
“He’s not a baby. Can stay by himself,” Marina muttered. “Is that all? See you in court!”
“I’ll insist you’re accountable for every penny given for Ethan’s upkeep,” said Christine, fighting the urge to stay any longer. She was horrified by the woman’s attitude towards her own child. “I doubt you’ll be pleased with what the judge decides…”
**********************
“…the court has ruled: Marina Lipova’s claim is granted in part. Arthur Malin is recognised as the father of Ethan Lipov. The register office is to amend the birth certificate accordingly. The claim for maintenance is denied. Arthur Malin’s counterclaim for residence is granted…”
Christine smiled contentedly — she had achieved her goal. Ethan would live with them. Some might judge her for “taking a child away from his mother,” but it was the right thing to do. All of Marina’s neighbours agreed the boy was unwanted — she’d scream at him for no reason, hit him openly, heedless of witnesses. The child psychologist insisted Ethan needed to be removed for his own welfare. His teachers and former childminders said the same.
Now Ethan would have his own spacious room, stacks of toys, a computer… And, most importantly, the love of parents he’d never felt before, as both Arthur and Christine were now utterly smitten with this wonderful little boy. Your husband is the father of my son. With those words, a stranger approached Emily as she sat enjoying
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