At my son's tenth birthday, I unexpectedly gained the power to read minds.

Standing before the candles, he made his wish.

"I hope I score a hundred on my finals."

Before I could commend his maturity, a second wish slammed into my ears.

"I don't like Dad. I want Mr. Shaw to be my dad.''

My hands froze halfway through a clap.

"Charles, what did you just say?"

I stared in disbelief at the innocent face of Charles Smith, my son, struggling to accept the words I thought I had heard.

"Dad, I didn't say anything. You must've been hearing things," Charles replied, his eyes darting nervously.

However, I knew better. A child's fleeting emotions could not easily slip past a parent.

Just as I convinced myself it was a mistake, I heard his thoughts again, clear as day.

'Dad's such a pain. He's always on my case, even on my birthday. Mr. Shaw's way cooler. He gets me whatever I want.'

Charles's lips had not moved, not even a twitch, and that was when it hit me.

I could read minds.

That day was supposed to be a joyous occasion, Charles's tenth birthday.

I had gone all out, preparing his favorite dishes and ordering a massive cake, only to be met with that silent rebuke.

I racked my brain for any clue about that 'Mr. Shaw'.

Then, it clicked. Yvette Smith, my wife, had recently hired a secretary named Patrick Shaw.

Yvette had not come home yet, claiming she was tied up with work and would be late.

However, Charles's thoughts cast a shadow of doubt over her so-called overtime.

Keeping my face calm, I gently broke the news to Charles.

"Buddy, Mom might have to work late tonight, so she might not make it back for your birthday."

I watched his reaction closely, and there it was. A flicker of scorn in his eyes.

'Dad's clueless. Mom's definitely with Mr. Shaw, but he made me swear to keep their secret. I can't spill the beans to Dad, the poor guy.'

My son's thoughts sent a chill through my heart.

To think my wife, whom I had shared my life with for over a decade, could betray me. Even my own son did not show an ounce of respect for me.

I spent years as a stay-at-home dad, letting my wife chase her career dreams, while I cooked and cleaned. It felt like I was preparing someone else's happily ever after.

A bitter laugh bubbled up inside me.

Did fate give me the power to read minds as a gift or as a cruel joke?

Over the past couple of years, Yvette had come home less and less. We were practically living separate lives.

Every time I tried to get close, she would brush me off, saying she was too 'tired' from work.

Then, it made sense. Since she had been enjoying herself outside, of course she was not in the mood with me at home.

Staring at my son's peaceful sleeping face, a daring thought crossed my mind. 'Could he even be mine?'

Lost in my thoughts, I was snapped back to reality by the sound at the door. Yvette came home early, a rare occurrence.

I sprang into action, peeling off Yvette's coat and handing her the warm water I had prepared, guiding her to the couch for a massage.

I figured no woman could turn down that level of pampering. I was right.

For a moment, guilt flickered across Yvette's face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Eugene, you've been great with Charles today. I've got more work later, so you head to bed early," she said.

The same old lip service, pretending to care while keeping me at arm's length.

There was a time when Yvette was my everything, and I never once questioned her love for me. However, I saw a voice message from someone named Pax on Yvette's phone.

Trying to sound nonchalant, I asked, "Honey, who's Pax?"

Yvette seemed rattled as she replied, "Oh, he's just a younger guy at work, that's what everyone calls him."

"Really? He must be well-liked. Why's he contacting you so late?"

I pressed on, keeping my face calm, curious to see what tale she would spin.

However, what I did not expect was for a few simple questions to set her off.

"It's just work stuff! We're colleagues, so it's normal for him to reach out, isn't it? Why are you always so paranoid?" she snapped.

Before I could respond, Yvette stormed off into her study, leaving me to stare at her retreating figure, my heart growing colder by the second.

'If you can be heartless, Yvette, don't expect me to play the saint,' I thought bitterly.

I had a paternity test done at the hospital.

Deep down, I had my suspicions, but seeing the proof that Charles and I were not related hit me like a lightning bolt.

I was frozen in shock.

Just the day before, while massaging Yvette, I had stealthily taken a strand of her hair. The test confirmed that Charles was indeed her child, but not mine.

For a decade, I was the fool, raising another man's child, toiling away while someone else reaped the rewards.

What a joke.

It was no wonder Yvette was so adamant about our kid taking her last name when we were picking out names.

It turned out that the kid was not even mine. She was probably worried my family name would somehow spoil her precious little one's lineage.

I could not even recall how I had stumbled out of that hospital.

Staring blankly at the sky, I was haunted by the promises Yvette made on our wedding day.

"Eugene, I swear, you're the only man I'll ever love, my one and only husband."

I let out a bitter laugh. "My one and only husband..."

It all clicked. She needed a husband for show, to keep up appearances, while her heart and fun times were reserved for her lover.

However, she had made a big mistake, starting right then.

Little did Yvette know that the company she had been so proud to work for was actually mine.

She had come from nothing, and to keep her from feeling small, I had kept my wealth a secret, quietly smoothing out her path.

Her life was a breeze, and it had gone to her head.

I rang up my sister and spilled the beans about Yvette's dirty laundry.

Just like I thought, my sister blew her top.

"Eugene, just you wait, I'll make sure they get what's coming to them."

A wicked grin spread across my face. "Now, it's my turn to teach their kid a lesson."

When I got home, there was Charles, looking all guilty, slumped over his homework at the table.

I did not need to check the cameras I had installed to know he had been up to no good.

However, that time, I let it slide.

I spoke to Charles with a calm demeanor. "Buddy, I'm pretty wiped out today. Why don't you watch some TV?"

His face lit up brighter than a kid in a candy store. "For real, Dad? I can actually watch TV?" he asked, his voice quivering with excitement.

I gave him a warm, fatherly look and said, "I've been thinking, son. Always telling you 'don't do this, don't do that' isn't good for a kid's spirit. From now on, you make your own choices. I'm stepping back."

Over the next few days, Charles went wild. His homework was in shambles, and he did not bother listening in class.

It was not long before he got called in for a parent-teacher meeting. However, it was not me they called, it was Yvette, swamped with work as always.

That evening, she stormed in with Charles in tow, launching right into me.

"Eugene, what kind of lessons are you teaching our boy? Charles's grades have tanked this week, nearly bottom of the class. I leave you to look after him, and this is what happens?"

I knew Yvette would be fuming, not just because of the school meeting, but because she had also been hit with layoff news at the company. She and Patrick were on the verge of being booted from the Garcia Group.

I glanced at Charles, who was sobbing quietly behind her, and pulled her into a feigned tender embrace. "Hey, the kid's right here. No need to be so harsh. Charles, buddy, stop crying. We'll buckle down and do better next time, okay?"

Caught off guard by my 'model husband' act, Yvette was at a loss for words.

However, she could not hold back her complaints. "You can't keep coddling him like this. Getting called in by his teacher today was a total embarrassment."

I let out a silent scoff. So, the kid was just another prop for her public charades.

Then, Charles's thoughts broke through.

'Mom's so harsh, and Mr. Shaw too, they're just mean. Dad's the only one who's nice. When I get picked on, he's the only one who cares.'

My plan was working.

I hid a smirk and turned to Yvette with feigned concern.

"Kids grow up, you know. We can't keep a tight leash on them forever. Experts say that open education is key for their development. If you're not on board with my teaching style, then maybe you should take over."

Yvette's temper flared. "What do you mean I should take over? I slave away all day, and you and the boy lounge around at home. Isn't that enough? Eugene, who do you think you are, giving me attitude now?"

In her rage, she sent the coffee table cups flying, glass shattering across the floor.

I watched her, my face a mask of calm, as I fought back my own anger.

"Honey, what's wrong? Trouble at work? You can't let it spill over onto the kid. Look, you've scared Charles. That's not good."

My words hit home.

Yvette's anger faltered. She touched her forehead, remorseful.

"Sorry, Eugene. There was an issue at work today. I let it get the best of me."

She staggered back to her room. However, I knew the show was far from over.