My Husband And His Mistress Mocked Me In German To My Face. They Called Me A “walking Atm” And Planned My Replacement. They Didn’t Realize I Understood Every Word. What Should My First Move Be?

The DNA Results

3 days later, the express envelope I was waiting for arrived. I opened it calmly. It was the private investigator’s full report. My eyes scanned past the dense text and charts, landing on the final page where a bright red stamp from the lab and a bolded conclusion confirmed my suspicions.

No Paternity Match.

I laughed out loud. So it was true. My intuition as a woman and my calculations as a risk manager were never wrong. David had thrown away his wife, his career, and his family’s honor all for another man’s child.

The investigator’s message added another layer to the sordid tale. I reread Lisa’s background check. She wasn’t just a simple gold digger; she was part of a sophisticated syndicate that targeted wealthy heir-obsessed men.

Her past was a dark web of deception. She had never been to Germany. She was from a poor rural town, had dropped out of school, and worked in bars before being recruited by a madam who ran the entire operation. This madam had funded Lisa’s plastic surgery and training, teaching her how to act like a high-society woman, even memorizing a few German phrases to fool her targets.

But the most shocking revelation was the baby’s true origin. The file contained surveillance photos of Lisa with a heavily tattooed, muscular man named Kevin. He was a personal trainer at a gym she frequented, and the man she had introduced to David as her cousin from out of town.

The baby was their biological child. They had used the infant as a tool to extort money from David under the guise of child support. The bank statements told the whole story. Every time David wired money to Lisa, a large portion was immediately transferred to Kevin’s account with notes like “for my hubby” and “diaper money for our pup.”

Oh David, you, the self-proclaimed brilliant businessman, were played for a fool by a pair of con artists. You funded their lifestyle, raised their child, and were ready to give them your entire family fortune. For this level of stupidity, a lifetime of regret would not be enough.

I photocopied the entire file. Three identical sets, three brown envelopes: one for my records, one for Eleanor, and the last one addressed to David, sent via Express Courier to Lisa’s condo where he was now living. I sealed the envelopes like I was priming time bombs.

The Broken Man

Less than 2 hours later, my office door burst open. David appeared, looking like he had aged a decade. He wasn’t arrogant anymore; he was a broken man. He fell to his knees before my desk.

“Catherine, I’m begging you. I was wrong, a thousand times wrong. But the baby… he’s innocent. He’s just a month old. How can you freeze everything and cut off his livelihood?”

I looked at him, my heart a block of ice. Even now, he was using the child as a shield, still playing the part of the great self-sacrificing father. He continued to sob.

“You’re a woman, you’ll be a mother one day. Put yourself in my shoes. How can you watch a child go hungry, unable to see a doctor? Take your anger out on me, don’t punish the boy.”

His moral hypocrisy was nauseating. He was trying to emotionally blackmail me into submission. I slowly opened my desk drawer and took out the original file. I tossed it onto the table in front of him.

“You want to provide for your son? Admirable. But before you play the great father, you should probably go home and ask who the baby’s real father is.”

David stared at me, bewildered.

“What… what are you talking about?”

I gestured to the file.

“Open it. It’s my final gift to you so you can wake up from this fantasy family you’ve been living in. Read it carefully, especially the page with the DNA results.”

The room felt airless. He picked up the test results, his eyes bulging as he read “No Paternity Match.” His fingers dug into the paper, his whole body shaking.

“No, this can’t be,” he whimpered. “This is fake. You faked this to hurt me. You hate me so you made this up to tear me away from my son.”

He looked at me with wild, crazed eyes, wanting to believe I was the villain rather than accept he was the world’s biggest fool. I didn’t give him an escape.

“Keep reading,” I said, my voice soft but brutal. “Read the next few pages, then tell me who’s making things up.”

He shakily turned the page to the bank statements. The numbers danced before his eyes, a painful, undeniable truth. Every transfer he made to Lisa was almost immediately funneled to Kevin. The final photo in the file was the cruelest blow: a picture of Lisa and the tattooed trainer Kevin in a loving embrace, holding the very baby David had called his heir.

“Ahhh!” David let out a guttural, inhuman scream. He crumpled the file in his hands and threw it to the floor. His world had completely imploded.

His male ego, his business pride, his family legacy, all turned to ash. He hadn’t been a powerful man supporting a mistress; he had been a cash cow milked dry by con artists. He had betrayed the wife who built his empire with him, all to raise another man’s child and finance another man’s family.

“Those bastards! I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them all!” he roared, tears and snot streaming down his contorted face.