After my husband’s funeral, I went to my sister’s son’s first birthday party, and she announced, “My son is your husband’s child, so…””Inheritance, I’m going to take half of your $800,000 house.” She even showed me her will. I said, “Oh, I see,” and tried to stifle a laugh. BECAUSE MY HUSBAND…

Then came that terrible Tuesday. Adam, 36, left for work with a headache, insisting it was “just a migraine.” He never called after his meeting. By the time I reached the hospital, he was gone, a brain aneurysm.

The following days were a blur of grief. Cassandra was strangely absent. When she did appear at the funeral, she left quickly. I was too numb to notice.

One week after Adam’s burial, Lucas’s first birthday arrived. “Adam would want you to go,” my mother insisted. So, with heavy heart, I drove to Cassandra’s rental house. The party felt tense. Guests whispered, my parents looked uncomfortable. Cassandra, glowing in a new dress, seemed almost giddy.

“Thank you all for coming,” she began, then paused dramatically. “I have been keeping a secret. Lucas is not Tyler’s son. He is Adam’s.”

The world seemed to stop. Gasps echoed. “Bridget’s husband and I had a brief affair two years ago,” Cassandra continued, her voice rehearsed. “It was a mistake, a moment of weakness.” She then produced a folded document. “Adam updated his will. He wanted his son to be provided for. This will states that half of our house should go to Lucas.”

Every eye turned to me. A strange smile tugged at my lips. I fought the inappropriate laughter. “Oh, I see,” I said calmly. “May I see this will, Cassandra?”

Her confidence faltered. She handed me a typed page with Adam’s purported signature. I quickly spotted inconsistencies: the language was wrong, and the signature was clearly forged. “Thank you for sharing this,” I said, handing it back. “I think I need to go now.”

“That is it?” she asked, confused. “You’re not going to say anything else?”

“Not right now,” I replied. “This is Lucas’s day. We can discuss this privately later.” As I walked to my car, I could hear the party’s murmurs. Once inside, I finally let out the laugh that had been threatening, tears streaming down my face—a mix of grief, anger, and disbelief. Cassandra didn’t know the full truth.

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The truth about Adam and Cassandra began three years ago. During a dinner at our home, while I was on a work call, Cassandra made a pass at Adam. He gently rebuffed her and immediately told me. We initially dismissed it as wine and her competitive nature, but it escalated. Over months, she sought inappropriate physical contact, sent flirtatious texts, and even showed up at his office. Adam always maintained boundaries and confided in me. When we confronted my parents, they dismissed it as friendly gestures.