A year after she stole my husband, my ex-best friend invited me to her baby shower—mocking my pain—but what I did next changed everything.

Daniel crossed his arms. Camille lifted the lid with exaggerated sweetness.

“Oh, Naomi,” she said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “You really shouldn’t have.”

Inside sat a framed document.

Not a birth certificate.

Not a blessing.

A certified DNA report.

Camille’s smile froze instantly.

Daniel frowned. “What the hell is that?”

I stood slowly.

“My gift,” continue reading …