Divorced my ex, married his friend

The physician’s face twisted in outrage as he glared at Harley and me. He wasn’t just any doctor—he was someone we trusted, practically our family doctor.

“Mr. Babylon, we need to talk,” he said, forcing a tense smile. “Mrs. Babylon, if you don’t mind, could you excuse us?”

Embarrassed and confused, I stepped out of the office. Our daughter, Harley, is physiologically challenged, but what had he discovered that he couldn't tell me?

Or is he hiding something from me? I'm her mother—I deserve to know everything about her.

From beyond the closed door, I caught only a few hushed words:

“Eight-year-old Harley Babylon is…”

The rest faded into silence. My heart raced like wildfire, pounding loudly in my ears.

A few minutes later, Richard pushed Harley’s wheelchair out of the office.

“Let’s go,” he said coldly. His voice was unfamiliar—detached and void of warmth.

He didn’t open the car door for me like he always did. Instead, he drove silently, passing the restaurant we had planned to visit without a word. His gaze was locked straight ahead, his face darkened by a deep scowl.

When we got home, Harley wheeled herself inside. Even she could feel the change in her father. Richard didn’t speak to her or touch her as he usually would.

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist roughly and shoved me to the floor. He held an envelope in one hand.

“I don’t even know what’s inside this,” I said, terrified.

He threw the envelope on the bed.

“What’s this, Theresa? So this is who you are? How could you?” His voice was thick with pain and fury.

“What are you talking about?” I stammered, tearing open the envelope. My hands shook as I read the doctor’s report.

“No… this can’t be right. Richard, please—we can fix this. Harley is your child!” I fell to my knees, clutching his leg, pleading.

He bit his lip, trying to hold back emotion.

“Your tears won’t solve anything,” he muttered, sinking into the chair beside the bed.

“I... I don’t understand. I know nothing about this. Maybe we should get a second DNA test—at another hospital,” I begged.

“Leave me, Theresa!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the wall. “She’s a bastard.”

My breath caught. “Something isn’t right. You met me as a virgin—no man has ever touched me. This isn’t just hurting me—it’s traumatizing Harley.”

“I don’t care anymore,” Richard snapped, pointing at our daughter. “You know what, Theresa? Pack your bags—and hers. Get out of my house! I want a divorce!”

“A divorce?” I cried, gripping his arms. “After eight years of marriage? You really believe this?”

“Did you pity me when you deceived me?” he shouted. “I gave you everything. Is this how you repay me?”

“Richardson, wait—please. We can work through this.”

“No. I’m done. And there’s a good chance your unborn child isn’t even mine.” He ripped his arm away and stormed out.

Harley had been watching everything in silence.

“Mommy, what’s happening?” she asked, tapping