We Lived as Husband and Wife for Almost Ten Years Before the Divorce.
I Continued to Pay for the Children’s Education and Living Expenses—
Until I Realized the Four of Them Looked Nothing Like Me.
The DNA Test Humiliated Me… And Revealed Something Far Worse.
My ex-wife and I divorced a year ago.
The reason was simple.
“We’re incompatible.”
“Too many long-term conflicts.”
I didn’t want to drag things into a public court battle like so many other couples.
So I chose to take the loss.
I moved out.
I left the house to her and the children.
There was only one thing I insisted on:
I voluntarily covered 100% of the expenses—
tuition, food, daily needs—for all four children.
I believed I was doing the right thing.
Even if the marriage failed, they were still my kids.
Or so I believed.
But as they grew older… they became more and more different.
The eldest was tall, fair-skinned, with sharp features—almost European-looking.
The second was small-framed, with monolid eyes, looking half-Japanese.
The third had tightly curled hair and darker skin.
The youngest looked unmistakably… South Asian.
I started to feel uneasy.
But I kept telling myself:
“Children change as they grow.”
“Genetics can be unpredictable.”
I wanted to believe that.
Until one day, the school requested identity verification for overseas academic records.
An administrative staff member casually asked:
“Sir… are you the children’s biological father?
Some of the records don’t seem to match.”
That question pierced straight through my chest.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
And I made a decision I never thought I would make.
I ordered DNA tests for all four children.
When the results came back, my legs gave out.
Not one of them shared my blood.
Not a single one.
I felt like I was going insane.
But the worst pain was yet to come.
When I asked the doctor to review the results more closely, he hesitated—then said:
“What’s unusual is that these four children…
aren’t biologically related to each other either.”
I froze.
“That means,” he continued carefully,
“each child has a different biological father.”
The world went silent.
My head spun.
I could barely breathe.
Ten years of marriage—
and I realized I had been nothing more than a financial backup plan,
while my ex-wife had turned our home into a gathering place for
four different biological fathers.
I called her over and confronted her.
At first, she lashed out, accusing me of being paranoid.
But when I placed the four DNA reports on the table, her face turned deathly pale.
I asked only one question:
“Four children. Four different fathers. Why?”
She broke down in tears.
But her answer sent a chill down my spine.
“I… I don’t even know who their fathers are.
But there’s something you need to know too…”
She swallowed hard.
“You were never my legal husband.”
I jumped to my feet.
Her hands trembled as she pulled out an old, yellowed document from a drawer.
“Do you remember our wedding?
I told you I would keep the marriage papers.
I never submitted them to the civil registry.
Legally… we were never married.”
The ground seemed to collapse beneath my feet.
Ten years together.
Four children.
All the property I left to her after the separation.
None of it had any legal standing.
Then came the final blow.
“Don’t look for the children’s fathers,” she whispered.
“Because… they don’t even know I was pregnant.”
Those men—
each of them married, influential, respected—
never knew they had children.
I walked out of the house like a ghost.
Behind me, her voice followed:
“You may not be their biological father…
but you’re the only man they’ve called ‘Dad’ for ten years.
Are you really going to abandon them?”
I turned back, my chest tightening.
The DNA results told me I had no biological connection to them.
But my heart…
was telling me something else entirely.