He Shared My Breast Milk, I Chose Divorce

This house, too, was supposed to be mine to manage.

But by now, David Miller had long forgotten those vows he once swore to me.

“Emily, your husband is away on a business trip, isn’t he?”

At the mention of her husband, Emily Brooks’s eyes flickered with hesitation before she replied,

“Yes, Rachel, he’s been so busy lately.”

“Well, when he comes back and sees how well my husband’s been taking care of your baby, I’m sure he’ll be very comforted,” I said lightly.

“What are you trying to say?!” David roared at me immediately.

I smiled. “Nothing. Just chatting.”

My sudden calm seemed to unsettle Emily.

She quickly stood, scooped her baby out of Margaret Miller’s arms, and hurried to the door.

Before leaving, she glanced back and said,

“Rachel, you can keep your milk. I’ve got enough for now.”

As soon as she left, David stared at me, his eyes stripped of any former affection.

All that remained was disgust and resentment.

“Emily’s husband being away—what business is that of yours?” he snapped.

I had expected that question.

Cradling Sophie Miller, I turned and headed back to my room.

Halfway there, David grabbed me by the arm.

“Talk to me!”

I let out a quiet laugh.

“I’m just curious—what do you think her husband would say if he found out that child wasn’t his?”

From the first time I laid eyes on Ethan Brooks, I knew something was wrong.

He looked so much like David—more than Sophie ever did.

His strange behavior in recent months only made my suspicions grow stronger.

I secretly asked a close friend to help me arrange a DNA test.

Even though I knew what the result would be, it still shook me when it came.

The test confirmed a 99.99% probability that David was Ethan’s father.

Which meant he had been involved with Emily for at least a year—probably longer.

What infuriated me most was his parents’ attitude.

Not only did they accept Ethan’s existence, they doted on Emily and her son.

It was as if David had his own mistress living comfortably right under their roof.

David grew anxious.

“Rachel, baby, don’t overthink this. I was just helping the neighbor, that’s all.”

Margaret jumped in too.

“That’s right, don’t let your imagination run wild. David would never do something like that.”

“It’s simple,” I replied coldly. “One trip to the hospital would reveal the truth.”

“Are you done yet?!” David shouted, his shame boiling over into anger.

His roar startled Sophie in my arms, and she burst into tears.

“Move,” I said, my voice like ice as I glared at him.

For the first time, I let him see the fury in my eyes—the kind that could devour him whole.

He flinched, stepping back instinctively.

I locked the bedroom door behind me and held Sophie close, soothing her until she calmed.

David tried to knock, but Margaret stopped him.

She whispered, “What are you still doing here? Hurry over to Emily’s.”

“But what about Rachel—”

“She’s your wife. Where’s she going to run? Now go.”

“Alright, I’ll go right now.”

David always listened to his mother.

He went next door and spent a long time coaxing Emily until she was calm again.

Then Emily asked nervously,

“What if Jason Carter comes back? What do we do then?”

Jason was her husband. They had only recently married—she had just wanted someone decent and dependable.

David chuckled dismissively.

“Then he comes back. Wouldn’t that make things even more exciting?”

“You’re terrible!” Emily giggled, slapping his chest playfully.

“But really,” she added, “you can’t keep coming so often. You’ll have to control yourself.”

“Fine. If it doesn’t work here, we’ll just go to a hotel.”

With that, David suddenly grabbed her by the hips, his hands shameless and greedy.