Rejected by my Husband novel Chapter 17

(Reid's Point of View)

The next morning I found her sitting on the bed, Ethan nestled against her chest.

His tiny fingers clutched at the fabric of her gown, his breaths small and uneven, the kind of fragility that makes you realize how breakable life is.

He looked so innocent. So untarnished by the lies, the accusations, the poison that had been fed into my veins.

For one painful second, I let myself imagine what it would feel like, if he were mine. If he could carry my name. If I could hold him without hesitation, without doubt.

But reality is never that merciful.

I stepped closer, my voice colder than the ache inside me.

“Tell me,” I demanded. “Who’s the father, Karline?”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide, shimmering with unshed tears.

“Reid…” her lips trembled, and she clutched Ethan tighter, as if shielding him from me.

“The child isn’t Adrian’s,” I cut her off sharply, each word like a blade.

Her mouth parted but nothing came out. She looked at me as though I’d stolen the air from her lungs. Then, in the faintest whisper, she choked,

“Because… because Ethan’s yours.”

The words sank into me like fire and ice all at once. I froze, my chest heaving, my mind refusing to trust what my heart desperately wanted to believe.

I forced a breath, my jaw tight. “Karline… we both saw the DNA results.”

“They’re wrong!” she broke out, her tears finally falling. “They have to be wrong, Reid! D–DNA tests can be mistaken. They can! Ethan is yours, only yours!”

I swallowed, my throat aching. I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to.

For weeks, I had been drowning in doubt, tearing myself apart between what I saw and what I felt. And now, as I looked at Ethan, my chest burned with something I couldn’t name.

I lowered my voice, almost against my own will.

“Okay,” I muttered, more to myself than her.

Her eyes searched mine, startled by the softness that slipped through my cold mask.

Because the truth was, more than logic, more than evidence, more than the damn DNA test—I wanted him to be mine.

I wanted Ethan to be my son.

And in that moment, I realized I was ready. Ready to forgive. Ready to bury the wounds if it meant keeping him. If it meant living a life where Ethan called me father.

Even if part of me still bled with doubt.

AFTER SOME DAYS.

After I told Natalie to prepare another DNA test.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify