Chương 2 - Nỗi Lo Âu Của Người Mẹ

I had given to twins.

boys.

I knew were .

I had heard both of them cry.

I had seen Owen before they took him to special care.

If this baby wasn’t biologically mine, was only question that mattered.

was the baby I had actually given to?

My knees gave out.

I ended sitting on the kitchen floor with my phone in my hand.

Owen began fussing in the swing.

The sound snapped something in me.

I crawled over, unbuckled him, and picked him .

He settled immediately against my chest.

That made me cry harder.

whatever the said, he was still a five-week-old baby.

He hadn’t done .

He had no idea who I was.

He had no idea who he was supposed to be.

I called my .

She answered on the second ring.

“Hey, honey.”

“Mom.”

Silence.

Then her voice changed.

“What happened?”

“I a DNA .”

Another silence.

“On Ethan?”

“No.”

My throat closed.

“On the boys.”

She didn’t say .

“Noah’s mine.”

I forced the next sentence out.

“Owen isn’t.”

My inhaled sharply.

“What do you mean he isn’t?”

“The says I’m excluded as his biological .”

“…”

“I carried twins.”

“I know.”

“I carried .”

“I know.”

“So is my son?”

Mom’s voice became extremely calm.

“Do not call Ethan.”

I was crying too hard to answer.

“, listen to me. Do not text him. Do not accuse him. Do not post . Don’t even let him know you took the .”

“You think he knows.”

“I think the way he treats that baby stopped looking normal three weeks ago.”

I looked down at the infant in my arms.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m coming over.”

“Mom—”

“I’m already getting my keys.”

She arrived forty minutes .

She read both DNA reports.

Then she sat at my kitchen table for a long time without speaking.

Finally she said, “These home tests are enough to scare the hell out of us, but they’re not we stop.”

“I know.”

“We get a real lab .”

“Yes.”

“And a lawyer.”

My stomach dropped.

“A lawyer?”

“, of the you gave to is missing.”

Hearing someone else say it made the room tilt.

Mom reached across the table.

“And I need you to hear me. You are not confronting Ethan alone with this.”

I nodded.

We found a family-law attorney that afternoon.

Her name was Patel.

Her office squeezed me into a phone consultation the next morning my used the phrase “possible newborn identity issue” with the receptionist.

didn’t sound shocked.

She sounded focused.

“First,” she said, “I’m not going to speculate about what happened. We need verified information.”

“Okay.”

“Second, do you believe either baby is in immediate physical danger?”

“No.”

“Has Ethan ever been violent?”

“No.”

“Threatening?”

“No.”

“All right. Then we preserve evidence and move carefully.”

She had me repeat the entire timeline.

Delivery.

Owen’s special-care stay.

My .

His .

Ethan handling .

Jenna’s name on his phone.

The DNA tests.

I finished, was quiet for a moment.

“, do you have access to your children’s hospital records?”

“Yes. The patient portal.”

“Good. Download you can legally access. Delivery notes, newborn records, summaries, related to both .”

She paused.

“Do not attempt to access anyone else’s records.”

“I won’t.”

“And we need proper chain-of-custody DNA testing.”

“What happens if it confirms this?”

“Then we deal with the facts we have. Not the facts we fear.”

That sentence kept me functional.

I downloaded the records that afternoon.

My medical chart showed exactly what I remembered.

live male infants.

Owen Bennett, born at 11:48 a.m.

Six pounds, four ounces.

Noah Bennett, born at 11:51.

Five pounds, fifteen ounces.

Owen had been transferred to special care for transient breathing problems.

Noah stayed with me.

Owen’s chart showed improvement over the next four days.

Then came the note.

Released in stable condition.

Parent education completed.

The date was correct.

The day Ethan brought a baby home and me Owen had been discharged.

On paper, lined .

Except the child sleeping upstairs wasn’t Owen.

Which meant the switch had happened the hospital had correctly identified him.

That narrowed the window.

And it put Ethan directly in the middle of it.

He had handled Owen’s .

I had been home with Noah.

I suddenly remembered something from that day.

Ethan came home with “Owen” around noon.

Then, less than an hour , he said he had forgotten a folder at the hospital and needed to go .

He was gone for almost three hours.

At the time, I had been annoyed.

Now my hands cold.

What had he actually gone for?

arranged the accredited lab testing.

My with me.

I Ethan the twins had a pediatric follow-.

He didn’t question it.

days , the professional results confirmed the home tests.

Noah was biologically mine.

The baby we had been calling Owen was not.

I sat in ’s office with the papers in front of me.

She folded her hands.

“All right.”

I swallowed.

“What now?”

“Now we find out who this child is.”

The answer started with money.

Ethan and I had joint checking for household expenses, joint savings, and separate credit cards.

I had never monitored every transaction I trusted him.

That trust lasted until I searched fourteen months of statements.

were transfers I didn’t recognize.

$2,500.

$4,000.

$7,800.

payment for $9,200.

Some directly to something called Cole Aesthetics LLC.

Others to a commercial landlord.

Altogether, a little under twenty-five thousand dollars had left accounts containing marital income.

I Googled Cole Aesthetics.

The first thing that came was an Instagram account for a small med spa in Buckhead.

Owner: Jenna Cole.

I stared at her photo.

Late twenties or early thirties.

Dark hair.

Expensive-looking scrubs.

Perfect skin.

The same first name that had appeared on my husband’s phone with a heart beside it.

I scrolled.

Most of the account was business content.

Skin treatments.

Before-and- photos.

Product promotions.

Then I found a personal post from four months earlier.

Jenna standing sideways in a white dress, visibly pregnant.

The caption said:

Baby Cole arriving sooner than expected. Already running the show.

My hands numb.

I checked the date.

She had been pregnant at the same time I was.

I sent the screenshot to .

She called me five minutes .

“Do you know she gave ?”

“No.”

“Don’t try to obtain private records.”

“I know.”

“But you can contact her.”

My stomach tightened.

“You think I should?”

“I think we need information she may voluntarily provide. I also think you should not meet her alone.”

I didn’t tell Ethan .

For the next three days, I slept beside him while every cell in my body screamed that I was sharing a bed with a stranger.

He kissed my forehead before work.

He asked if we needed diapers.

He spent forty minutes night walking “Owen” around the living room the baby wouldn’t settle.

I watched him.

was real tenderness in his face.

That almost made it worse.

On Saturday, my stayed with the .

didn’t come with me to Jenna’s med spa, but she knew exactly I was, and my phone was recording audio in my purse Georgia law allowed me to record a conversation I was part of. had been very careful about that.

The med spa was bright and smelled like eucalyptus.

A receptionist smiled.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I need to speak with Jenna.”

“She’s with a client.”

“Tell her Bennett is here.”

The receptionist hesitated.

Then disappeared down the hallway.

Less than a minute , Jenna appeared.

The color drained out of her face.

She knew my name.

That me almost I needed to know about the affair.

“.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Can we talk somewhere private?”

She glanced at the receptionist.

Then nodded.

We into a small consultation room.

Jenna closed the door.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she said, “I’m sorry.”

I almost laughed.

“You don’t even know why I’m here.”

Her eyes filled.

“I know who you are.”

“Good.”

“Ethan me—”

I held a hand.

“If you tell me he said your relationship started our marriage was basically over, I’m going to save you some time. Our marriage was not basically over.”

Her mouth closed.

“He me you were staying in the until the were born.”

“No.”

“He said you were living separately inside the .”

“No.”

“He said—”

“I was sleeping beside him until the night before my C-section.”

Jenna sat down.

Her face had gone gray.

For vicious second, I was glad.

Then I remembered why I was actually .

“I’m not here you slept with my husband.”

She looked .

“I mean, I’m furious about it. But that’s not why I came.”

I took the lab report from my purse.

Jenna stared at it.

“What is that?”

“A maternity .”

She looked confused.

I slid it across the desk.

“The baby living in my as my son Owen is not biologically mine.”

Her eyes moved across the page.

Then to me.

“I don’t understand.”

“I gave to twin boys.”

“I know.”

That stopped me.

“You know?”

“Ethan showed me pictures.”

Of course he had.

I pushed through the nausea.

“ of my actual twins is somewhere else.”

Jenna’s breathing changed.

I watched the exact moment the possibility entered her mind.

“No.”

“ you have a boy?”

She stood so fast the chair rolled backward.

“No.”

“?”

“No.”

“Jenna.”

“Don’t.”

“ you give ?”

She pressed both hands to her mouth.

I waited.

Finally she whispered, “The day you.”

Every hair on my arms lifted.

“What happened?”

She stared at me.

“I hemorrhaged.”

I said nothing.

“I barely remember the first day. I saw Caleb for maybe minutes delivery.”

“Caleb.”

“My son.”

Her voice broke.

“They took me to surgery. Then ICU. Ethan handled .”

My chest tightened.

“What does ‘’ mean?”

“He said he would take Caleb the hospital released him. I didn’t have family in town yet. My mom was flying in from Tampa.”

“ he take the baby?”

“Yes.”

“ you see him again?”

Jenna started crying.

“ I got home.”

“What day?”

She me.

I already knew the date.

It was the same day Ethan had brought “Owen” home to me.

I felt sick.

“ Ethan leave during the day?”

“I don’t know. I was still in the hospital.”

“ you got home, the baby was already ?”

She nodded.

“With Ethan?”

“Yes.”

“ he say he’d been keeping him?”

“He said he’d had him at a friend’s for a few hours he was going and forth between hospitals.”

I closed my eyes.

A friend’s .

Our .