On Lucas’s first day of first grade, I wanted everything perfect.

My husband, Travis, was supposed to come with us, but—as usual lately—he was distant and late.

I walked Lucas in alone.

Moments later, Travis finally showed up.

As I went back to drop off Lucas’s water bottle, I heard his teacher call, “Jamie, sweetheart…”

Lucas smiled and went to her without hesitation. Travis didn’t react.

My stomach sank.After school, Travis announced he was taking Lucas to his mother’s for a “father-son night.”

Suspicious, I followed their car in a taxi—straight to a house I didn’t recognize.

Lucas ran to the backyard pool like he’d been there before. Then a blonde woman came out and kissed Travis.

My heart dropped—it was Lucas’s teacher.

When I confronted them, Lucas revealed Travis had told him to answer to

“Jamie” because the teacher had lost her own son by that name.

He’d even bribed Lucas with candy.

To her, it was “comfort.” To me, it was betrayal.

Travis hadn’t just cheated—he’d built a fake family using our child.I didn’t scream.

I went to my mother-in-law, who adored Lucas.

I laid out everything. In the end, I got the house, child support, and my freedom.

Travis got to watch his life crumble.