My Wife Seemed to Carry My Father's Child

My wife cheated on me, and my son wasn't mine. She confessed this bluntly on our wedding night.

But then, by some bizarre twist of fate, I discovered that my son shared my extremely rare blood type: Rh-negative.

Behind my wife's back, I secretly took a paternity test. The results floored me: a 99.99% DNA match.

Andrew was related to me, without a doubt. But if he wasn't my son, who was his "real" father? My mind raced, my stomach twisted. Could it be... A horrible thought crept into my mind, leaving me sickened.

Chapter 1

"Is this Simon Swift, Andrew Swift's father?" The call came in abruptly, shattering my morning peace.

"This is Children's Hospital. Your son had an accident at school. He fell, hit his head, and lost a lot of blood. He urgently needs a transfusion.

"Please come immediately."

I glanced at the clock. It was 10 AM, and annoyance quickly overtook concern.

It wasn't worry or even anger, but irritation.

"You should call his mother," I said coldly.

"Besides, I'm Rh-negative. What good is calling me? Doesn't your hospital have a blood bank?"

I was ready to end the call when I noticed Roger, my driver, shooting me a stunned, judgmental glance.

I could read his thoughts clearly.

What kind of father would respond so callously to news that his son was hurt?

Yet the truth was simple.

Andrew wasn't my son.

Beatrice Moore, my wife, had been three months pregnant when we met. She married me carrying another man's child, and I accepted it.

I was nothing but a pathetic stand-in.

"What kind of father are you?"

The doctor's voice on the line grew sharper, thick with frustration. "If our blood bank had his type, why would we call you?

"We've already tested Andrew. He's Rh-negative, exactly like you. Get here now!"

The call ended abruptly, leaving me frozen in disbelief.

Andrew had Rh-negative blood too?

How could that possibly be just a coincidence?

Roger cleared his throat gently.

"Simon, he's just a kid. Kids get hurt. It's part of growing up.

"Maybe you've been a bit strict with him, but right now, you really should focus on his health."

"I'm not his father!"

I blurted out, louder than intended. Immediately regretting it, I lowered my voice.

"Sorry, Roger. I didn't mean to snap. Let's just... get to the hospital."

After the transfusion, Andrew drifted into sleep.

For the first time, I found myself truly studying his face, startled by the striking resemblance I saw there.

Roger stepped beside me quietly, his voice low but sincere. "Simon, you can't deny it. Andrew looks exactly like you."

A sudden panic surged through me. I turned to the doctor urgently. "Can you perform a paternity test here?"

The doctor gave me a puzzled look. "Isn't your shared blood type enough proof?"

"That's not enough. Just tell me, can you do it or not?"

"We can't run it here," he replied slowly, still eyeing me skeptically. "But we can send the samples to the central hospital downtown. Results take three days."

Without hesitation, I rolled up my sleeve. "Do you need blood...