She Had a Baby With Her Ex’s Dad

As I prepared for my IVF sperm collection, I accidentally overhead my wife Chloe whispering to her mother—Dr. Davis:

“Mom, I need to switch the sperm sample. I want Brandon’s baby.”

Dr. Davis sounded confused:

“But Brandon’s dead, honey. How could you possibly have his sperm?”

Chloe fell silent for several seconds before blurting out,

“It’s Mr. Hayes Sr.’s. Brandon’s mom is too old to have another baby, so I’ll carry their family’s child. You have to keep this from Liam.”

Brandon had been Chloe’s first love.

At that moment, I watched Mr. Hayes Sr. exit the adjacent sperm collection room.

“Liam, my daughter’s making a huge sacrifice carrying your child. She’ll be hormonal during pregnancy—you need to be extra careful around her.”

“And there are important pregnancy precautions—pay attention.”

Dr. Davis stopped short, her expression hardening as she noticed my distraction.

Chloe jabbed my arm sharply. “Liam, are you listening? Mom’s talking to you.”

A bitter wave washed over me. My throat tight, I muttered, “Whatever. Handle it yourselves. I need to go.”

I’d barely taken two steps when Dr. Davis’s voice cut through the air. “See? I never approved of him! You insisted on marrying this man, and look what happens! So irresponsible—how’s he supposed to take care of you and the baby?”

I froze, her words dropping my heart to my stomach.

Even before we married, I’d always been the one handling things for Chloe’s family.

When her dad passed, she and her mom were lost. I took care of everything—funeral arrangements, bills, everything.”

When Dr. Davis broke her leg, I cared for her around the clock for a month.

After Chloe was attacked and struggled to cope, I spent two years helping her recover—every single day.

But none of that seemed to matter to them.

“Liam, apologize right now! Look how upset you’ve made Mom.”

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “And if I don’t?”

Chloe’s tone turned icy. “Then I won’t have this baby.”

That comment made my blood boil. I spun toward her. “Are you threatening me with another man’s child?”

She froze, finally realizing I’d heard every word.

“Since you heard, I won’t lie. You’re my husband, so you deserve to know—but I hope you can try to understand.”

I lost it then, shouting, “Understand you carrying another man’s baby?”

Dr. Davis stepped between us, snapping, “Who do you think you’re yelling at? My daughter can have a child with whomever she chooses! It’s her body—you have no say!”

Chloe stared me down. “If you can’t accept this, we’ll get divorced.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut. I was furious, but some stupid part of me still wanted to fix this marriage.

“If you’re dead set on having his baby, then our marriage is over.”

With that, I walked out of the hospital and never looked back.

Three years ago, after Chloe was assaulted and traumatized, I promised I’d never pressure her about having kids.

Three years later, she was somehow planning to use her dead first love’s father’s sperm to have his child.

As I exited the hospital, a familiar face waved at me from a car’s backseat.

I climbed in, and we drove to a nearby café.

The old man’s face was lined with deep wrinkles, his hand trembling slightly as he gripped his coffee cup. He looked like a tree withering in autumn.