My mother-in-law was convinced my baby wasn’t her son’s. To humiliate me, she invited the whole family over to reveal a DNA test. With a smug look, she opened the envelope and announced, “The boy really is my son’s child.” The room sighed with relief.

I stood up. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I have another envelope to open.”

Her face went pale. “No… don’t.”

But it was too late.

Weeks earlier, I had agreed to the paternity test—on one condition: she would take one too. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it fairly,” I said.

Back at the dinner, I opened the second envelope:
“According to the test… Igor is not Anatoly’s biological son.”

The room froze. My father-in-law stared at her. My husband was in shock.

She whispered, “That was a long time ago…”

I turned to my husband. “I didn’t know. I just wanted things to be fair.”

And now… they were.