His Mistress Posted My Ultrasound, So I Took Back Control and Exposed Them

She'd posted photos—a whole spread of dishes that looked exactly like Tim's cooking.

I called him. Again and again, the line cut off.

Then a WeChat message popped up. From Tim.

Babe, just finished up at work. Bringing home all your favorites.

Be there in thirty.

I stared at the clock, counting every tick of the second hand.

Thirty minutes later, the keypad beeped outside the door.

"Cora, come eat! Got everything you love."

The moment I saw those containers—not a trace of warmth left in them—

Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them.

"Cora, is the baby giving you trouble? Just hang in there a little longer, okay?"

He crouched down, gently massaging my swollen ankles.

"It's all your favorites. Got held up on the way though—few work calls ran long."

"Wait here. Let me heat these up."

He grabbed the takeout containers and headed for the microwave.

My phone buzzed. A new reply on that post.

[My boyfriend made way too much food, so I had him pack up the leftovers. Picked out this adorable Hello Kitty container myself—can't have my baby boy going hungry.]

The Hello Kitty container sitting on our table burned into my vision.

The tears wouldn't stop.

So the foolish woman in that post—the one being played for a fool—was actually me.

"Cora, it's all warmed up. Let me feed you."

I looked at Tim's gentle expression.

I still didn't want to believe it. That he could scheme against me with another woman like this.

We'd met through a matchmaker. He'd seemed so sincere, so hardworking, so steady.

We got together because we were compatible, but somewhere along the way, I'd fallen in love with him.

Every time we failed to conceive, he'd comfort me so tenderly.

When the IVF finally worked—when those two lines appeared—he was even happier than I was.

I'd been naive enough to think our devotion had moved heaven itself.

Turns out I was just stupid enough to walk right into someone else's trap.

I pushed away the spoon he held to my lips.

"Tim." I met his eyes. "What if there was a mix-up during the embryo transfer? I want to get it checked."

His spoon froze mid-stir. Something flickered across his face—guilt, maybe.

"Babe, you've been reading too many novels. That's impossible. A hospital that big, with technology that advanced? They don't make mistakes."

"But I'm scared. I looked it up—amniocentesis can test DNA. Please, Tim. Let's just do it."

He set down the bowl, anxiety flashing in his eyes.

"Cora. I'm worried it might hurt you or the baby. Trust me—there's no way they made a mistake."

He pleaded with me, patient and earnest. But I wouldn't budge.

His phone rang. He glanced at the screen.

"Cora, there's an issue with a project. Let me take this real quick."

He disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the faucet.

The rushing water drowned out his conversation.

Five minutes later, he emerged—brow smooth, tension gone.

"Cora, if you're really that worried, then let's do it. I'll book the appointment right now."

"Really? But you just said—"

Tim cut me off. "Cora, I love this baby. But I love you more. If you have doubts, we check. Once you're at peace, the baby can grow up healthy."

Something nagged at me. What had changed his mind so suddenly?

On the way to the hospital, I found my answer in that thread.

[The old hag suddenly wants a DNA test. Did she actually see this post?]

[Whatever. Let her test all she wants. One little lab report won't be a problem for me.]