What is irregular, Counselor, is your client seeking a million dollars in support for children she knew were not fathered by the respondent,” the judge snapped. He turned to me, his expression softening into something resembling respect. “Mr. Chandler, what relief do you seek?”
I had rehearsed a scorched-earth speech. I had planned to demand she be jailed, to see her ruined. But as I stood there, I thought of Marcus teaching me how to play video games. I thought of Jolene crying when she scraped her knee. I thought of Wyatt falling asleep against my chest. They were innocent. They were the collateral damage of a war they didn’t start.
“Your Honor,” I said, my voice thick. “I loved those children. I still do. What my wife did is unforgivable, but the kids didn’t choose this. I am requesting that all child support obligations be terminated immediately. However, I am requesting visitation rights. I am the only father they know. Ripping me out of their lives would only hurt them more.”
The judge nodded slowly. “A remarkably measured response. Given the admission of paternity fraud, I am setting aside the divorce settlement entirely. Mrs. Chandler, I strongly advise you to find a criminal defense attorney. I am referring this matter to the District Attorney for a fraud investigation.”
Lenora collapsed into her chair, sobbing about her children needing her.
“You should have thought of that,” the judge said, raising his gavel, “before you deceived the man who raised them.”
The gavel fell with a final, echoing thud.
I didn’t turn on my truck engine for an hour after I left. I just sat in the parking lot, shaking. I had won my freedom, my assets, and my dignity, but the cost was a hole in my soul. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Marcus: “Mom is crying and won’t tell us what happened. Are you coming home?”
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