I always thought having a baby would bring Bill and me closer. But I never expected the real problem would be his mother, Jessica.
From the moment I got pregnant, Jessica inserted herself into everything. “You need me to come with you,” she insisted. At every appointment, she acted like she knew best. Bill wouldn’t set boundaries, no matter how much I begged.
When we found out we were having a girl, Jessica sneered, “You couldn’t even give my son a boy. He needed an heir.” I snapped, “An heir to what? His video game collection?”
After a difficult birth, I woke up weak and empty. Jessica stormed in, furious. “You didn’t even tell me you were in labor!” Later, she told the nurse, “Give her formula,” but I whispered, “I’m going to breastfeed her.”
Two weeks later, she came with “proof” that I wasn’t faithful. Bill believed her. I left, taking our daughter Eliza with me.
Days later, I gave Bill the real DNA test. He read aloud, “99.9%.”
“Eliza is your daughter,” I said.
“Please… come back,” he begged.
I shook my head. “I’m filing for divorce. I want full custody.”
