– He doesn’t look a thing like me! – snapped the actor in the cheap TV drama. – Are you blind? He’s the spitting image of you!
Edward forced a dry chuckle and glanced at his wife. It had been her idea to spend the evening with tea and a show. If someone had told him then that this very soap opera would tear his family apart, he’d have laughed it off.
– I get where he’s coming from, actually, – Edward said coolly, eyes still fixed on the screen. – My boys don’t resemble me either. Not one of them. All four are your doubles. Maybe I should get a DNA test too?
– Hilarious, – Lucy grimaced. – What next?
– I mean it. I know the truth. The kids aren’t mine.
– What rubbish! Who’s been filling your head with this?
– A mate from work. Took one look at our family photo and said, ‘You sure they’re yours?’ And you know what? It hit me—they’re not. Not in looks, not in temperament.
Lucy went pale. Her chest tightened with hurt, anger, and panic. Twenty years together. Twenty years of struggles, joys, illnesses, exams, births. And now… One glance at a photo, and he trusted a stranger over her.
– You honestly believe I’d lie to you for two decades? That I’d saddle you with another man’s children? Are you out of your mind?
– Enough with the act! You see it too! They’re all carbon copies of you! What am I to them—some uncle?
– Who is she? – Lucy’s voice turned icy. – The woman who poisoned your thoughts?
– What woman? It was a bloke! A colleague! He’s been through the same thing.
– Right. And you—like a schoolboy. First whisper of doubt, and you crumble. So, you’re leaving?
– I am, – he said flatly. – I want the tests. If none of them are mine—that’s it. Let their birth certificates say ‘father unknown.’
When the children learned their dad doubted their blood ties, they stopped speaking to him. The eldest, just turned eighteen, swore he’d never call him ‘Dad’ again. The youngest, only five, just stared in confusion and asked, ‘Daddy, why’re you cross?’
The family shattered. Friends, relatives, coworkers—all stunned. Lucy was devastated; Edward, stubborn and deaf to reason. The root of it? A woman named Emily, the new girl at work—young, ambitious, with a gleaming smile and the instincts of a predator.
– Don’t take this the wrong way, – she’d murmured over coffee. – Just odd, isn’t it? The kids inherited nothing from you. Not a single trait. And that does happen…
At first, he bristled. Then he wavered. Then he believed. And so came the court orders, the tests, the results—four confirmations: Edward Miller, biological father.
Emily wept, begged forgiveness, swore it was love, that she never meant harm. He married her a week after the divorce.
But the fresh start never came. Work turned hostile. They sacked him quickly. Emily too. Friends vanished. Neighbours spat curses as he passed. Soon enough, Emily packed her bags—‘couldn’t handle the pressure.’
He tried to go back. Knocked on the familiar door.
– Sorry, – Lucy said, – we don’t need you anymore. We’re fine.
And Edward was left alone. No family. No friends. No children—who, as it turned out, resembled him far more than he’d ever realised.
