Our usually reliable nanny, Emma Spencer, called me three times in a row today, sounding completely panicked.

"Ma’am, something’s wrong. The kindergarten security won’t let Noah in, no matter what! They said the name that shows up when they scan the card doesn’t match. The card belongs to a kid named 'Gabriel', not our Noah at all!"

My hand paused over the report I was reviewing, my brows furrowing. "Emma, didn't my husband hand the card to you himself last night?"

On the other end, she sounded like she was about to cry. "Yes! But the scanner shows the name 'Gabriel Cooper'. The guard says we must have the wrong card and keeps questioning me!"

That didn’t make any sense.

To get Noah into the top-tier Starlight Bilingual Academy, I had pulled every string I could half a year ago and paid a $300,000 donation just to secure a spot.

For the past month, my husband, Scott Shaw, had been the one driving our son to school every day. This morning, he said he was busy and couldn’t take Noah, so Emma went instead.

So how did it suddenly turn into someone else’s school card the moment she took over?

I calmed Emma Spencer down and told her to wait at the entrance with Noah Shaw, then grabbed my keys and headed straight for the kindergarten.

When I arrived at the gates of Starlight Bilingual Academy, I took the access card from her. I held it up to the scanner.

"Beep! Pre-K Class 1, Gabriel Cooper."

A boy’s face popped up on the screen. It looked strangely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen him before. For some reason, a wave of unease crept over me.

I called Scott Shaw.

It rang for a while before he finally picked up. There was a lot of background noise on his end.

"Hey, honey? Why are you calling right now? I’m about to head into a meeting." Scott’s voice sounded as gentle as ever.

"Did you grab the wrong school card last night—the one you left by the door?" I asked casually, "Emma tried scanning it, and it showed a kid named Gabriel Cooper."

There was a brief pause on the other end. Then he let out an awkward chuckle. "Oh… that. On my way home yesterday, I gave a coworker a ride. It must’ve been her son’s card. He probably dropped it in my car, and I mixed them up."

His tone was full of self-blame. "Just have Emma take Noah home for the day and let him rest. I’ll go to the school office tomorrow and get him a replacement card."

"That’s fine. If we can’t find it, we’ll just get a new one. It’s only a few hundred dollars anyway," I said evenly.

"Don’t!" Scott’s voice suddenly shot up, sharp and jarring.

As if realizing he’d overreacted, he quickly softened his tone and coaxed me gently, "I mean, the school admin office is a nightmare. Replacing a card means ID checks, paperwork, fees… It’s a hassle.

"I’ll take a good look in the car tomorrow. I’ll definitely find Noah’s card. You’re busy with work, so don’t worry about something this trivial, okay?"

Thrown off by his interruption, I didn’t press further. I took Emma and Noah back home first.

However, the more I thought about it, the more something felt off.

So I picked up my tablet. Scott had a habit. His dashcam automatically synced to the cloud on the tablet.

I pulled up the footage from yesterday morning.

In the video, Scott first got into the car with Noah. Then the car stopped outside an old, run-down apartment complex.

A heavily made-up woman walked over, holding a young boy’s hand, and got into the car.

"Scotty, thanks for driving Gabriel again today," she said in a soft, sugary voice.

"Why so formal?" Scott smiled and patted the boy’s head. "Gabriel, be good at school today."

"Okay! Thanks, Dad!" the boy shouted brightly.

"Dad?!"

I stared at the screen, frozen, as if every drop of blood in my body had solidified in that instant.

That crisp, innocent "Dad" hit me like a hammer straight to the temple. My mind went blank, my thoughts scattering into nothing.

Scott cheated? And not just that, but he even had a child with her?!

My chest tightened. I shut off the tablet, unable to keep watching. All I could see was that boy calling him "Dad".

At ten that night, Scott pushed the door open, looking worn out. The moment he finished changing his shoes, I slammed the tablet down on the coffee table with a sharp crack.

On the screen was the frozen frame from yesterday morning—the boy looking up at him, calling him "Dad".

"Scott Shaw, explain this." My eyes locked onto his, refusing to miss even the slightest flicker of emotion. "The kid who called you Dad—whose child is he?"

The moment he saw the screen, his whole body stiffened, but just as quickly, a helpless, bitter smile spread across his face. He walked over, took my hand, and sat down beside me without a trace of guilt.

"Katie, you’ve got the wrong idea.

"That woman’s name is Amanda Cooper. She used to work under me. Her husband died in a car accident a couple of years ago and left her alone with the kid. It’s been hard on them."

He let out a quiet sigh, his gaze steady and sincere. "Gabriel gets picked on at kindergarten for not having a dad. He’s gotten withdrawn, insecure.

"Amanda had nowhere else to turn. She asked me more than once if I could step in occasionally and just pretend to be his father. Give him a little confidence.

"He’s about the same age as Noah. I thought maybe the two of them could be friends… so I felt bad and agreed. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you’d overthink it.

"As for the school card, when I dropped them off yesterday, Gabriel was playing around and must’ve mixed it up with Noah’s by accident."

His calm tone and airtight explanation slowly loosened the knot in my chest.

Thinking back, Scott had always been soft-hearted. He donated to underprivileged communities all the time.

Had I really just been overworked lately and letting my imagination run wild?

"Next time something like this happens, you tell me in advance. I don’t like other kids calling my husband 'Dad'." I pulled my hand back, my tone easing.

"Yes, ma’am. Lesson learned. I swear, from now on, I’ll keep a strict distance from them. No more getting carried away trying to help." Seeing that I’d believed him, Scott immediately leaned in with a grin and kissed me. "I’m going to shower. I’m exhausted."

I watched his back as he headed into the bathroom, letting out a long breath.

So it really was just a misunderstanding.

I stood up to hang the suit jacket he’d tossed onto the couch.

Just then, the screen of his phone on the coffee table lit up. A message notification popped up.

[Sunflower Daycare: Mr. Shaw, your son Noah Shaw’s meal fee of $800 for this month is overdue. Please settle it promptly to avoid disruption to his meals tomorrow.]

The curve at the corner of my lips froze instantly.

My son was enrolled in Starlight Bilingual Academy, a tuition well into the tens of thousands a year, with meals designed by a high-paid international nutritionist.

So how could he possibly be attending some no-name daycare?

A surge of panic and rage flooded through me, impossible to contain.

I reopened the dashcam app and resumed the footage I hadn’t finished that morning.

On the screen, Scott drove Gabriel all the way to the grand entrance of Starlight Bilingual Academy.

"Gabriel, go on. Say hello to your teacher." Scott gently hung my son’s platinum access card around the boy’s neck.

Then he drove off, turned onto a side street, and stopped in front of a run-down alley. At the end of it stood a shabby place with a rusted gate: Sunflower Daycare.

Scott turned his head, the warmth gone from his face, replaced by sheer impatience. "Noah, get out and go inside. I’ll pick you up tonight. Remember, nothing that happens today gets back to your mom."

My four-year-old son, Noah, clutching his little backpack, glanced timidly at the dark, dingy entrance. "Dad, I don’t want to go here. It smells bad… and the food isn’t good…"

"What’s with all the whining? I’ve spoiled you rotten! Get out, now!" Scott snapped.

Noah flinched, his small body trembling, tears pooling in his eyes. In the end, he could only push the door open and walk into that broken-down yard alone.

Watching his tiny, helpless figure on the screen, my chest ached so badly I could barely breathe.

How dare Scott do this?!

Noah had been born premature. He’d always been fragile. For the first three years of his life, I had never left his side—not for a second.

And now Scott had the nerve to dump him in a place like that?

That was his son too…

Tears spilled over, but I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to make a sound.

The next second, a warning icon flashed on the screen: "Video unavailable."

Scott had deleted it.

That low-life. Not only was he cheating, but he was using my money to raise his illegitimate child while dumping my own son in a slum to suffer.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom.

For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to storm in and stab him, but I held back. Confronting him now would only tip him off and give him time to move assets and destroy evidence.

I wasn’t about to let them get away with this.

Over the next few days, my life split cleanly in two. By day, I went to work like usual, leaving early and coming home late.

Even when Scott put on his fake concern, I could still force myself to smile back sweetly, swallowing the disgust.

Behind the scenes, I hired the best private investigator in the city at a premium rate to dig into Amanda’s background. I worked through the nights, pulling together every financial record and message Scott had from the past few years. I even had professionals recover the deleted dashcam footage.

In less than three days, a thick report landed in my inbox.

As I read through it, I let out a cold laugh. At the very top was a paternity test between Scott and Gabriel Cooper.

It was a confirmed biological relationship. No wonder the boy had looked familiar the first time I saw his face. He looked exactly like Scott as a child.

Another document made my blood boil even more. It was a file from Starlight Bilingual Academy. Clear as day, there was an "Enrollment Slot Transfer Agreement", signed with my name.

After thinking it through, I realized what must have happened.

Scott had used my fingerprint while I was asleep, then forged my signature, transferring the $300,000 spot to Gabriel.

That wasn’t all.

Over the past two years, under the excuses of "failed business investments" and "pulling strings", Scott had taken nearly $200,000 from our household funds.

Every cent of it had gone toward the down payment on a school-district apartment under Amanda’s name.

I organized all the evidence, backed it up, and dialed my lawyer, Daniel Carter.

"Mr. Carter, draft a divorce agreement for me. I want him walking away with nothing.

"And prepare the filings. I’m suing him for embezzlement, asset concealment during marriage, and document forgery."