My husband refused to do a DNA test for our daughter’s school project – so I did it behind his back, and the results prompted me to call the police.

And that’s what happened.

I stared at the line “0% shared DNA” for so long that I forgot to blink.

But it wasn’t the lack of correspondence that shook me. It was the presence of a person.

Mike.

The results arrived the following Tuesday.

Tiffany’s godfather. Greg’s best friend since college. He was a man who had keys to my house.

I closed my laptop. My legs moved before my thoughts. I walked into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bathtub, numb, staring at the tiled floor.

I sat there until the water stopped and the curtain creaked open.

“Sue?”

I got up.

“We need to talk tonight,” I said. “Don’t stay late at work.”

I closed my laptop.

**

After school, I packed Tiffany’s bag and dropped it off at my sister’s house.

“Is Daddy coming too?” she asked me, hugging her unicorn pillow tightly.

“Not this time, darling. We have to work late tonight, so I thought you might enjoy spending some time with Aunt Karen.”

**

That evening, I waited in the kitchen.

Greg came in.

“Sue?”

I slid my phone across the table, the results open. He looked at the screen.