The Baby Trap Backfired

Mia snuggled against him.

"He's such a joke. Three seconds and he's done. And every dime he makes goes toward buying formula for our son anyway."

I stared at the screen, my temples throbbing. It felt like the blood vessels in my eyes were about to burst.

The video kept rolling.

Mia suddenly climbed off Andy's lap, pulled open the TV stand drawer, and took out a folder.

The folder with our marriage documents.

"Come here."

She opened it. Our marriage certificate was inside, with a wedding photo tucked behind it. She pulled out the photo, laid it on the coffee table, and turned it until my face was staring up at them.

Then she lifted her chin, eyes shining with excitement and pure malice.

"Do it on his face. Cover him completely."

Andy threw his head back laughing.

"You're mean."

Then he did it.

Without a second thought.

Right in front of the camera.

Right in front of me.

The disgusting mess was smeared all over my face in the photo.

Mia laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. "Now that's what you should look like! Hahaha!"

My phone creaked in my grip, almost cracking.

I wanted to book the first flight home and beat those two pieces of trash into the ground.

But I didn't.

I took a deep breath, opened the recording settings, cranked the resolution to the highest quality, and switched the recording time to unlimited.

***

Over the next three days, more guests showed up.

Ryan came first.

His leg was still wrapped in bandages. The pain-transfer device had left him with a fracture, and he hadn't fully recovered. Even so, he never missed a chance to mess around with my wife.

"Mia, do you really think his salary can support you? Be with me, and I'll take care of you for the rest of your life."

Next came Luke.

He lay on my bed with Mia while drinking from the mug on my nightstand that read, [I Love My Wife.]

"Your husband's built like a stick. He could train for a hundred years and still wouldn't be half the man I am."

Three men.

Three days.

One after another.

Each one was more arrogant than the last.

Each scene more disgusting than the one before.

I exported every video, compressed and encrypted them, then saved copies to three separate hard drives.

After that, I created a new folder.

Its name was simple.

Death Row.

***

When I got back from the business trip, Mia rushed over with her usual bright smile.

"Honey, you've lost weight! That trip must've been exhausting."

I patted her head.

"It was fine. Somebody has to make the money."

I pulled the wrinkled travel allowance from my pocket and set it on the coffee table.

Right beside the folder holding our marriage documents.

Mia's eyes flickered for a split second before returning to normal.

"Oh, right."

I sat down casually.

"Noah's almost a month old. How about we throw him a baby welcome party?"

Mia looked away.

"I mean, we could. But parties like that cost money..."

"Don't worry. I ran the numbers. If we invite everyone, the gifts should cover most of it."

"Everyone?"

Her eyes lit up.

"Friends, family, coworkers. A big party."

"Then we need to book somewhere nice!"

I smiled. "I'll take care of it."

Over the next few days, I used three different phone numbers to message Andy, Ryan, and Luke.

The wording changed slightly each time, but the meaning stayed the same.

[Come to Noah's welcome party. We need to talk about Noah.]

The message was vague, but the implication was obvious.

None of them refused.

They couldn't.

Because every one of them believed Noah was his son.

At the same time, I spent two thousand dollars and used a hospital contact to get biological samples from all three men.

Andy's blood sample from his hospital stay.

A cigarette butt Ryan had left in my living room.

A drinking glass Luke had used.

The three samples, along with Noah's hair, were sent to three separate testing labs.