My Wife Told Me That Our 3-Year-Old Son Was Buried, A Day Later I Found Out the Horrible Truth

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Anger swelled in my chest. How could she do this to me? To Oliver?

“Greg, I know this is a lot,” Mike continued, “but I couldn’t keep this from you. Natalie’s been… she’s been unraveling for a while. I called you as soon as I found out.”

I didn’t respond right away.

I could barely form a coherent thought. My son was alive. But Natalie, the woman I had trusted to co-parent with me, had lied.

Not just a small lie, but something so monstrous I couldn’t even wrap my head around it. Without another word, I finished packing and booked the next flight. I needed answers.

I needed to see Oliver. The flight felt like an eternity. By the time I landed, the anger that had been simmering beneath the surface had grown into a rage I could barely control.

When I finally arrived at Natalie’s house, she opened the door before I could even knock. Her eyes were red, tears already streaming down her face. “Greg,” she said softly, her voice cracking.

She stepped aside, letting me in. I dropped my bags in the hallway, not caring about the formalities. “How could you do that to me?” I asked, my voice low but trembling with fury.

She wiped her eyes, her lips quivering. “I—I thought you’d take Oliver from me.”

“What?” I blinked, stunned. “Why would I do that?”

Natalie hesitated, looking down.

“I’m… I’m pregnant with another child,” she admitted, her voice small. “I was scared. I thought if you found out, you’d take Oliver away from me.

That you’d think he should live with you because I’d have another baby here.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “That’s what you thought? That I’d just take Oliver away from you?”

She nodded, sniffling.

“I panicked, Greg. I didn’t know what else to do.”

My anger flared again, hot and sharp. “So you faked our son’s death?

Natalie, you buried him in my mind. Do you even realize what you’ve done to me?”

She sobbed quietly, unable to meet my eyes. I was shaking now, barely able to contain the storm inside me.

“This isn’t about your new baby or what you thought. This is about Oliver, and you almost ripped him away from me. Forever.”

Natalie started crying, clearly shaken by her actions.

“Natalie,” I said softly, aware that Mike had entered the room. “This changes things, but it doesn’t excuse what you did. It would help if you had trusted me enough to be open and honest.

I would never have separated Oliver from you. He needs both of us. But I am so angry and hurt by the lie.

I went hours thinking my son was dead.”

Natalie sat and sobbed for a long time, cradling her stomach every few minutes. Then, I heard the sound of little footsteps running through the hallway. “Daddy!” Oliver screamed and jumped into my arms.

I refused to let him go. Ultimately, I reassured Natalie that I wasn’t there to take Oliver away. But I was also firm that if she did something like that again, I would be forced to take legal action.

On one hand, I think I understand the pain and uncertainty that Natalie felt at the thought of losing her child. But it also made no sense. Given the opportunity, I would have told her I was happy Oliver would be a big brother.

I’ve insisted that Natalie and I go to counseling to address any underlying issues from our divorce. Mike has been a great source of support for her, and I’m grateful that if anyone had to be a stepfather to my son, it’s the man who phoned me and told me the truth. Back home, the distance between Oliver and me was unbearable.

I couldn’t let that be our reality anymore. I opened my laptop, scrolling through job listings. There was no question about it.

I had to be closer to my son. And soon. “Next time, Natalie,” I muttered to myself, “I won’t be so far away.”

Source: amomama