The Honorable Judge Yvonne Chambers had seen it all in her fifteen years on the family court bench. Teenage mothers, deadbeat fathers, grandparents raising grandchildren, couples who hated each other so much they could not stand to breathe the same courtroom air. But something about the energy today was different. The plaintiff and defendant had not even exchanged greetings when they walked in. They had not made eye contact. They had sat at their respective tables like boxers in opposite corners, waiting for the bell.

“Please be seated,” the bailiff announced.

Judge Chambers adjusted her glasses and looked out over the courtroom. The gallery was half-full—a few family members, a couple of curious spectators, and one woman in the back row who was already taking notes. Jerome, the court clerk, stood at attention beside the bench.

“Hello, Your Honor,” Jerome said.

“Hello,” Judge Chambers replied. “This is the case of Weatherspoon versus Ferguson.”

“Thank you, Jerome.” The judge turned to the plaintiff’s table. “Good day, everyone.”

“Good day,” came the murmured response.

“Mr. Weatherspoon,” Judge Chambers began. “You have brought your ex to court because you claim she is trying to pin her three-year-old son, Aiden Ferguson, on you. You claim to know who her child’s father is, and that it is not you. Is that correct?”

Cordell Weatherspoon sat forward, his broad shoulders squared, his jaw tight. He was a man who looked like he had spent a lot of time bracing for impact. Thirty-one years old, built like a linebacker, with tired eyes that had seen too many late nights and too many broken promises. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt and a tie that looked like someone had helped him tie it that morning.

“Yes, Your Honor,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Judge Chambers turned to the defendant’s table. “Miss Ferguson, you claim that the plaintiff is denying your child only because he is a deadbeat who runs from his responsibilities. You testify that you are certain he is your son’s father. And once it is proven, you say he owes you and your son an apology. Is that correct?”

Belinda Ferguson sat with her arms crossed, her posture a mixture of defiance and hurt. She was twenty-nine, with sharp features and eyes that flickered between anger and something softer—something that looked a lot like exhaustion. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she wore a simple black dress that seemed chosen for its seriousness rather than its style.

“Yes, Your Honor,” she said. Her voice was firm, but there was a tremble underneath.

“So, Mr. Weatherspoon,” Judge Chambers continued, “why do you believe Miss Ferguson is trying to pin her baby on you?”

Cordell leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him. “Well, Your Honor, from the time that I met this woman until now, it has been at the baseline of deception. She knows how I am with our oldest son, Cameron, and also my other kids as well. She knows that I am a father and that I take real good care of my kids. So she wants that for herself. She likes to make mistakes, and then she wants me to clean it up for her.”

He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “We were together at one point. So she knows what type of man that I am. And she wants me to share that same joy with the other kids that she also has. So that is why she is—”

“But you believe she is just trying to pin this baby on you?” Judge Chambers interrupted. “You believe she is just trying to pin this baby on you?”

“Trying to pin them on me? Yes.”

Judge Chambers turned to Belinda. “Are you doing that, Miss Ferguson?”

Belinda’s eyes flashed. “No, Your Honor. If I put some kids on this man, they are his kids. I ain’t just trying to pin no kids up on this man. He ain’t nobody.”

“So you have another child together?” the judge asked. “An older child?”

“Yes, we do.”

“But you refuse to accept Aiden?”

Cordell shook his head, his jaw tight. “No. Yes. I do not accept him at all. My mama raised me not to never let a woman like this come and try to bring me down.”

“Like what woman like?” Judge Chambers pressed.

The air in the courtroom seemed to thicken. Cordell’s voice rose, just slightly. “A woman who tries to manipulate. A woman who lies. A woman who cannot be trusted.”

Judge Chambers held up a hand. “So hold on, Miss Ferguson. Does Mr. Weatherspoon treat Aiden differently than he does the other children?”

Belinda’s voice cracked. “I feel like he does. When he calls me or messages me, he only asks about Cameron. He does not never ask about Aiden.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And when he comes to see Cameron, he does not play with Aiden. He will probably speak to Aiden, but he does not give him that fatherly feel like he gives Cameron. And Aiden deserves a father. His father needs to be there just as well as he is there for his oldest brother.”

Judge Chambers turned back to Cordell. “Your honor,” he said, his voice tight, “she trained this baby to call me daddy. She trained this baby to believe that I am his father. She sends me pictures of him. When I come to see Cameron, that baby is calling me daddy. You have got to see how I feel. This baby is calling me daddy. She is pushing something on me that I do not feel is there.”

“And you believe she is trying to manipulate you and make the child call you daddy to make you buy into this fact,” the judge said.

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

“So now you have Cameron, the first child. You do not question the paternity of Cameron, Mr. Weatherspoon?”

Cordell shook his head firmly. “No, I do not. I do not.”

“But I did start having my doubts,” he continued, his voice dropping. “Because after a while of us being together, I was actually sick one day and ended up going to check my mail. I noticed a car was pulling up.”

“That was me,” Belinda said under her breath.

“So I turned around,” Cordell went on, ignoring her. “When the car pulled up, she got out. But as I am looking over her shoulder, I see a white boy in the car with her. So I am looking like, you know, what is going on? I say, ‘Belinda, who is that white man outside of my house?’ You know what I am saying? So she says, ‘He is just a friend. He just let me use his car to come over here.’ So I am thinking to myself, she never mentioned this friend.”

“You thought she was cheating?” Judge Chambers asked.

“Yes.”

“And you confronted her about that?”

“Yes.”

Judge Chambers turned to Belinda. “Miss Ferguson, were you cheating?”

Belinda shifted in her seat, her arms still crossed. “He was teaching me how to drive. We were friends.”

Judge Chambers raised an eyebrow. “Is he teaching you how to drive or teaching you how to ride? Those are two different things.”

The gallery tittered. Belinda’s face flushed. “He taught me how to drive out of a friendly gesture. That is all it was. It was not any intimate anything going on between me and that man. I even knew him before I even met Cordell.”

“So you were never intimate with him?”

Belinda hesitated. The pause lasted just a fraction of a second too long. “We were intimate before I even met him. But it was one time.”

Judge Chambers leaned back, a knowing look on her face. “Okay. So see, now the plot thickens. See, this is the problem. Now I know why you never really told him too much about the man, because you would have had to admit that this is a man you have been intimate with before.”

Belinda’s voice was small. “I just did not look at it that way.”

“So, Mr. Weatherspoon,” the judge continued, “is this the only other time you heard Miss Ferguson was entertaining other men?”

Cordell shook his head. “I had some friends at a supermarket, and they called me on the phone. It is crazy because I was actually around the corner at another store with my sister shopping at the time. So they call me and say, ‘Cordell, are you still with Belinda?’ I say, ‘Yes, I am.’ They say, ‘Well, she just walked in the store holding hands with this other man.’”

Belinda shot forward in her seat. “I was not holding hands with him.”

Cordell continued, his voice rising. “I said, ‘No, that is not her. You got that wrong.’ But in my mind, I knew they were telling the truth because I knew about this other man. So I called Belinda’s phone. There was no answer. I called her again. There was no answer. I called her a third time. She picked up, but it sounded like she was in the bathroom. There was an echo. I said, ‘Where are you?’ She said, ‘I am at a party store with my friend. We are getting some stuff for her party.’ She hung up.”

Cordell’s hands were gripping the edge of the table now. “When she hung that phone up, I went to my sister and said, ‘Can I see your keys? Let me see your keys.’ I hopped in her truck. I drove as fast as I could around that corner to try to catch her. When I got there, I ran inside. My friends said, ‘She is already gone.’ So I was real upset.”

“So you just missed her,” Judge Chambers said.

“I just missed her. So in my mind, I said, ‘Enough is enough. I am done.’”

Belinda shook her head, her voice rising. “I do not recall that, Your Honor. I do not recall him being there because after that situation with my white friend, we were at the supermarket—”

“Wait a minute,” Judge Chambers interrupted. “You testified earlier that you were not holding hands.”

Belinda backpedaled, her words tumbling out. “It came out wrong. We were not holding hands. But we were at the supermarket together.”

“Now that is the same man that is teaching you how to drive,” the judge observed. “Now he is taking you to the supermarket.”

“Yes.”

“All this while you are supposed to be in a relationship with Mr. Weatherspoon.”

Belinda’s defense was weak, and she knew it. “Yeah. But at that time, I did not feel like me and him would be serious. I did not know that we were going to get as serious as we did. So I was still talking to a friend. I did not feel like I was disrespecting him.”

“So now he says he is done,” Judge Chambers said. “At some point, you break up.”

Belinda nodded. “Yes, we did. We broke up. I ended it.”

“And that was before Aiden was conceived.”

“Exactly.”

Judge Chambers turned back to Cordell. “So now you are convinced that she was dating another guy during this breakup.”

Cordell nodded grimly. “Yes. There was an incident with this street thug guy. I was coming to see Cameron and pick him up to spend time with him. When I got to where she was staying, the street thug and her were pulling up in a car. So I asked her, ‘Belinda, what is my son doing in the car with this man?’ She said, ‘Oh, no, we were not doing nothing. I was just driving him around. We were running his errands.’ So I looked at her, grabbed my son, and just walked away.”

Belinda threw her hands up. “But how does that say that I was messing with the man?”

Judge Chambers held up a hand. “Hold on, Miss Ferguson. It is only so many rides and driving around the corner and supermarket runs. This does not make no kind of sense.”

Belinda’s voice was defensive. “If I am not with him, I can do whatever I want to if me and him are not in a relationship.”

“So you are saying this is when you all were done?”

“Yeah, we were done.”

“So you did entertain. You did have another friend.”

Belinda’s answer was defiant. “I had another friend, but we were not together. We were not in a relationship, so I can do what I want.”

Judge Chambers turned to Cordell. “Mr. Weatherspoon, what you are saying is you believe this other man is Aiden’s biological father.”

Cordell nodded firmly. “Exactly, Your Honor. That is exactly what I am saying. I believe the other dude is his biological father.”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping as he recalled another incident. “One time, she called me and told me Cameron needed diapers. She did not know when I was going to come and bring them. I did not tell her, but it was seven o’clock at night. I decided to come and drop his diapers off. I rang her doorbell. She normally answered, but this time she did not. So I called her phone. She did not answer. So I texted and said, ‘I am downstairs with your son’s diapers.’ She texted back and said, ‘I am at church.’”

Judge Chambers’s eyebrows shot up. “At church? At seven o’clock at night?”

“That is what I said,” Cordell continued. “She said, ‘I am at night church with a family member.’”

Belinda nodded, a smug look on her face. “I am just glad she going somewhere church, because she be riding in that car with everybody.”

“So you were at church?” the judge asked Belinda.

“Yes, I was at church.”

“Who took you?”

Belinda’s answer was quick. “My sister.”

Judge Chambers turned back to Cordell. “So, Mr. Weatherspoon, you are at the door with the diapers. She says she is at church. Then what happens?”

Cordell’s voice was tight. “I found other family members of hers to confirm her story. And that family member said, ‘No, she is not at no church with no other family member.’ That was a lie. So I texted her back and said, ‘Where are you at with my son? You are not at no church.’ So she called me and said, ‘I am on my way.’”

He paused, the memory clearly still painful. “Whole time I am standing on the street in the building where she at, I notice a car pull up on the side. She hurry up and gets my son out. She came out, talked to me. I said, ‘I thought you was not going to take my son back to that street thug’s house.’”

“Hold on,” Judge Chambers said. “When she pulled up, she did not get out of her sister’s car?”

Cordell shook his head. “No, she got out of the street thug’s car.”

Judge Chambers turned to Belinda, her voice sharp. “Miss Ferguson, I thought you just testified that you were at church and your sister brought you.”

Belinda’s story shifted again. “We did go to church. But at that time that he texted me, we was leaving church, and I ended up going to the dude’s house. But I was at church.”

“So a month later after that incident,” Cordell said, his voice heavy, “she claimed she was pregnant with her son, Aiden.”

“Take me to that day,” Judge Chambers said. “How did she tell you she was pregnant?”

Cordell’s jaw tightened. “Well, first, she sent me a text and said, ‘I think I am pregnant.’ I said, ‘But who?’ When I said that, she called me. She pretty much stopped playing. She said, ‘I think I am pregnant for real.’ So I hung the phone up. She went to go take a pregnancy test. She sent me a picture of the test and said, ‘Yeah, I am pregnant. What are we going to do?’ I said, ‘No, what are you going to do?’ Pretty much that is when I knew and started feeling like—”

Judge Chambers turned to Belinda. “So Miss Ferguson, you tell Mr. Weatherspoon you are pregnant?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“That is the first person you tell?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Did you tell the other guy?”

Belinda shook her head. “No, the other guy did not have no reason.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was not sexually active with the other guy. We was just conversating. When I was going to his house, we was just chilling. It was never anything sexual between us.”

Judge Chambers’s voice was incredulous. “Come on, man. He is a street thug.”

Belinda doubled down. “We never had sex. We never had sex!”

The gallery erupted in laughter and murmurs. Judge Chambers banged her gavel. “Order. Order.”

She looked at Belinda, her expression a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “So, Miss Ferguson, I really want to keep it real. Are you suggesting that through all of this, everything you have done, all this time, you have never had sex with anybody else?”

Belinda’s answer was emphatic. “No, Your Honor.”

“Are you for real?”

“So all it is is entertainment? Nothing sexual?”

Belinda nodded. “Yes.”

Judge Chambers turned to Cordell, her voice dry. “Who entertains a super thug? Who does that?”

Cordell shrugged helplessly. “The same person that entertains another.”

“So, Miss Ferguson,” Judge Chambers continued, “take me to the birth.”

Belinda’s voice softened. “I went through the labor without him. After I had Aiden, I called him. He came up there, and he walked right back out. He looked at Aiden and walked right back out.”

Judge Chambers turned to Cordell. “Is that what you did, Mr. Weatherspoon?”

Cordell did not flinch. “That is exactly what I did, Your Honor. I walked right in. I looked at that baby. There was no attachment, no feeling with me. I know my kids. I have a bond. I have an attachment with all my kids. When I walked in that hospital and saw that particular baby in the bed, I knew for a fact that that told me to get out of there. So that is what I did. I left.”

“And Mr. Weatherspoon, you never volunteered to do anything for the baby when he was a newborn? No diapers, no toys, no clothes, no onesies, no visits?”

Cordell shook his head. “No, I left that to the man who was responsible for that situation.”

Belinda’s voice rose. “Aiden did not even have his dry skin just like him.”

“Now he got dry skin,” Cordell said, a note of exasperation in his voice. “I told her about my eczema. I have eczema. I told her about it.”

“When that baby started growing up,” Belinda said, “she gave me a call and said, ‘I think he really is yours. He is starting to have dry skin like you.’”

“Now all of a sudden he got dry skin like me,” Cordell muttered.

Judge Chambers held up her hand. “So what I want to understand is, because when we talk about eczema, it actually runs in my family a lot too. So I want to get more information on this and see how this potentially could relate to the paternity question we are here to deal with. So I am calling on Dr. Jamila Gator. Jerome, will you please escort Dr. Gator into the courtroom?”

The courtroom door opened, and a woman in a white lab coat walked in. She was in her early forties, with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. Dr. Jamila Gator was a dermatologist who had testified in dozens of family court cases over the years. She knew the drill.

“Hi, Dr. Gator,” Judge Chambers said.

“Hi,” Dr. Gator replied.

“Thank you for joining us again. So I was curious as to the medical information we have regarding eczema. Is this something that is related to genetics that could be somehow connected to paternity?”

Dr. Gator nodded. “Well, possibly. Eczema is typically caused by allergies, which are often hereditary. And what happens is the skin gets irritated when it is exposed to certain environmental factors like foods, pollen, mold, dust mites, and that causes the skin rashes that we see—the dry, patchy skin with eczema.”

She paused, choosing her words carefully. “But eczema can also be caused by other environmental irritants like soaps, detergents, lotions that come in contact with the skin. And in that case, it would not necessarily be due to allergies and then typically not hereditary. So I have to ask you, Miss Ferguson, do we know if the street thug has eczema?”

Belinda shook her head. “No, I do not know that.”

Judge Chambers sighed. “I do not know what to believe anymore. The truth is what we have heard from the doctor is there could be more than one cause, and that leaves us smack dab in the middle of some more confusion.”

She turned to Dr. Gator. “Thank you, Dr. Gator, for being with us. You have provided us with the testimony we needed. When I call a witness, sometimes I feel like I am going to get greater insight, but I feel like after hearing Dr. Gator testify, it truly validates the doubt that we see here because we really do not know. We have talked about super thugs and superstars, but we are in fact dealing with a super mystery as it relates to this DNA.”

She took a deep breath. “Let’s get the results.”

The courtroom tensed. Jerome walked to the bench, a sealed envelope in his hand. Judge Chambers took it, slit it open, and pulled out the papers inside.

But before she could read them, she paused, her eyes scanning the file in front of her. “Now, before I go to these results, in the court file it is indicated, Mr. Weatherspoon, you brought another case because you questioned paternity of her one-month-old son Elijah as well.”

Cordell nodded grimly. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“So when I say paternity issues repeat themselves until they are resolved, that is the truth.”

Judge Chambers leaned forward. “How do we get to the point where a one-month-old baby, another baby, has a question of paternity over its head? You do not know if this baby is yours either?”

Cordell shook his head. “No, I do not. I do not know if that baby is mine.”

“So tell me how this started.”

Cordell sighed, running a hand over his face. “Well, this all started. I actually had sex with her one time throughout this time. We were broken up or whatever, but I had no clue that she was seeing a guy from work. She never mentioned that to me. So I came over one time, we talked, it was a heat of the moment type thing, and it happened. But whole time she was in a relationship with another guy.”

Belinda shot back, “I was not in a relationship with the other guy.”

“She got this thing with just putting babies on me and just telling me babies is mine,” Cordell said, his voice rising.

Judge Chambers held up her hand. “Well, you are the one sleeping with her.”

“Yeah, I mean, I slept with her at a point. But at the end of the day, you are already in a relationship with somebody else. So you are bypassing this relationship that you are in, where you are having sex with a guy on a constant basis, to a guy that you slept with one time.”

“But at this point, you are broken up,” the judge pointed out. “How do you know she is with somebody else?”

“She admitted it to me,” Cordell said. “There were times when I came to pick up Cameron and I have knocked on the door. I have been outside for maybe five minutes. I can hear feet inside the house.”

“You never saw that,” Belinda interrupted.

“I can hear feet running inside the house like somebody is looking out the window,” Cordell continued. “Feet.”

Judge Chambers’s eyes narrowed. “Feet? Honey, you know what I am saying? So you just assume somebody was running trying to hide.”

“Could that be the children?” the judge asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Cordell shook his head. “Oh no. You know children’s feet from grown men’s feet. These were heavy feet. They were heavy feet.”

Judge Chambers turned to Belinda. “Were you sleeping with a coworker, Miss Ferguson?”

Belinda’s answer was reluctant. “Yes, I did sleep with a coworker. But when he came to my house, that was not even a coworker that I was sleeping with. It was a whole other guy. He never even saw the coworker. So I do not understand why he started throwing that up in there. That was not even him.”

“So there were other men at your house,” the judge said flatly.

“Yeah, but it was only one man at my house.”

“So why was he running through the house when you—”

“It was not him running,” Belinda insisted. “Why did it take so long for you to open the door? I thought it was a wrong number or something. I did not even think it was him. When I finally realized that it was actually him at the door, that is when I opened the door.”

“When I finally get into the house,” Cordell said, “the man is sitting on the couch looking at me like he runs the show. So I asked her, ‘Where is my son?’ She said, ‘He is in the back.’ So I asked her to go get him. I leave. I called her later that day and told her, ‘You are still doing it. You are still bringing men around my son.’ And that is when she pretty much admitted to me that she was messing with another coworker.”

Judge Chambers shook her head slowly. “So by the time baby Elijah is born, you do not believe he is your child either. But you do admit you slept with her that one time.”

Cordell nodded. “Yeah, that one time.”

“With no protection.”

“With no protection.”

“She just got a thing with saying that I am the father,” Cordell continued, reaching into his pocket. “I actually got evidence, Your Honor.”

Judge Chambers raised an eyebrow. “Let me see this evidence. Jerome, will you hand me that, please?”

Cordell handed over his phone, and the judge scrolled through the messages. Her expression darkened as she read.

“What is this evidence, Mr. Weatherspoon?”

“Every time she is in a situation, she texts me when she gets herself in a situation and tries to pin the baby on me.”

Judge Chambers read aloud. “So in your mind, she is dating somebody else. So you get these text messages. Miss Ferguson says, ‘What are we doing about this baby?’ And you write back, ‘I do not know what you are talking about.’ Miss Ferguson says, ‘The baby that I am pregnant with, which is your child.’ And you text back L-M-A-O. Like it is a joke.”

Cordell shrugged. “I was trying to figure out what was funny about that.”

“So Miss Ferguson says, ‘So this situation is a joke to you?’ And you write back, ‘No, it is just funny. You putting a baby on me once again?’”

“Yes.”

“So Miss Ferguson sends a video that looks like your belly,” the judge continued, turning to Belinda.

“Yes,” Belinda said.

“And you send back, ‘For real, for real. Whose baby is that?’ Then you write back, Miss Ferguson says, ‘Cordell, stop playing with me. For real. This is your son.’”

Belinda nodded. “Yes.”

“And so during the window of conception, we need to find out what in the world is going on,” Judge Chambers said. “I see you submitted a calendar. I would like to see that calendar.”

Jerome handed her the document, and the judge studied it carefully.

“So, in October, you indicate you were intimate with Mr. Weatherspoon,” she said to Belinda.

“Yes, Your Honor. One time.”

“During the month of October?”

“Yes.”

“All right. And now in the red, you found out three months later you were pregnant with Elijah in January.”

“Yes.”

“How did you find out you were pregnant?”

Belinda’s voice was softer now. “Cordell actually told me that I looked pregnant. And once he told me that I looked pregnant, I took a pregnancy test. But I was still having periods, so I was not really sure was I pregnant or not. But I really did have a pudge. So I did a pregnancy test and it was positive. I ended up going to the ER, and they did an ultrasound. I was thirteen weeks pregnant.”

“You found out you were thirteen weeks pregnant,” the judge repeated. “Now, when was Elijah born?”

“July tenth.”

“You say you were intimate with your coworker when?”

Belinda hesitated. “The end of November. Beginning of December.”

“So, November. So we count back—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. So you got October is when you identified that you were intimate with Mr. Weatherspoon. In your mind, Mr. Weatherspoon would be Elijah’s biological father when you count it back.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Cordell shook his head vehemently. “I object to that calendar because it is completely wrong. And she knows it. She knows it.”

“How is it completely wrong?” the judge asked.

Cordell’s voice was tight. “The woman was actually due in August. So if you count back from her original due date in August—”

“So you are saying Miss Ferguson was actually due in August,” the judge interrupted.

“August first.”

“Okay.”

“So it really is not a big difference,” Belinda said quickly.

“Yeah, she was actually due in August,” Cordell insisted. “I do not know what persuaded that date to make her have that baby in July, but she was actually due in August. So if you count back from August, you get November.”

Judge Chambers looked at Belinda. “And that is when she said she was intimate with the other guy.”

“Other guy,” Cordell repeated, a bitter edge in his voice.

“I had Elijah two weeks earlier, Your Honor,” Belinda said. “Two weeks. I had him at thirty-eight weeks.”

“Thirty-seven weeks,” Cordell corrected.

“We cannot predict when babies are due,” the judge said. “That is why they give us a window of conception. But when a baby is early and you slept with two different men in the span of one month’s time, that is what we call a paternity question.”

She turned to Belinda. “Did you ever tell the other guy about the baby?”

Belinda nodded. “Yeah, I told him when I first found out I was pregnant.”

“Why?”

“Because I did not want to talk to him no more if I was pregnant with another man’s baby.”

“So you say you told him just to break it off with him?” the judge pressed. “Are you sure you were not telling him because it was a possibility that he could be the biological father?”

Belinda’s answer was defensive. “No, Your Honor. I just wanted to break it off with him because I knew it was not his baby.”

“And so, do you know where this guy is?” Judge Chambers asked. “If in fact, Mr. Weatherspoon is determined to not be Elijah’s biological father.”

Belinda’s voice was quiet. “Yes, he is back in Chicago.”

Judge Chambers looked at Cordell. “When she said that, I can just see the grimace on your face, Mr. Weatherspoon. She knows this man’s every movement. So in her mind, she knows that it is a strong possibility that that baby belongs to that guy.”

Cordell nodded. “You know what I am saying? She actually told that guy before she told me she was pregnant.”

“Really?”

Belinda shook her head. “I do not recall that.”

“How do you know that, Mr. Weatherspoon?” the judge asked.

“Because she told me. When I told her that she looked pregnant, she did go take a pregnancy test. But I asked her, ‘Did you tell that guy?’ She said, ‘Yeah, I already told him.’ So that is how I knew she had told him before she told me.”

Belinda’s voice was sharp. “That is a lie. I never said that.”

“That is what she told me on the phone,” Cordell insisted. “She said, ‘I already talked to him, and I already told him.’ And I am not going to lie, I asked her, ‘Can I talk to that guy?’ Because I wanted to know if she really told him.”

Belinda’s eyes flashed. “The man was trying to lie to get out of the situation. And I can tell she—I told her, ‘Do not say nothing to the man till I get there.’ That is what I told her. She already called that man and coached him before I got there. I asked her, ‘Did you talk to this man before I came?’ She said, ‘No.’”

Judge Chambers held up her hand. “So, has the other man ever met Elijah?”

Belinda shook her head. “No. No, Your Honor. You have not.”

“Have you seen Elijah?” the judge asked Cordell. “He is just one month old.”

Cordell shifted in his seat. “I just saw him right there on that screen.”

“Oh, that is the first time you have seen him?” the judge asked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I am sorry, Your Honor,” Belinda interrupted. “Actually, she had called me, which I really did still get a good look at him. She had no ride from the hospital at this moment. And I feel sorry for her because, you know, I got my first son with her. So I am not going to leave her out bogus. She needed a ride back from where we was at. They do not let you leave the hospital with your child unless you have a car seat in a car to take him home.”

“That is correct,” Judge Chambers said.

“So I came up there, picked her up. I dropped her off at her destination.”

“And you saw the baby that day?” the judge asked.

Cordell hesitated. “I really did not see him because his face was kind of covered. But I looked back and took a glance.”

Judge Chambers turned to Belinda, her voice softening. “You know, Miss Ferguson, you have been very matter-of-fact throughout this hearing. Everything Mr. Weatherspoon says, you say he is crazy, he does not know what he is talking about. But I have to say, as a mother, you have now had three children in the span of four years, and you are raising these children by yourself.”

Belinda’s composure cracked. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Two of which the man you say is the biological father does not participate, will not help, and denies. That has to hurt.”

Belinda’s voice was barely a whisper. “It does.”

“What does it feel like going through that?”

Tears welled in Belinda’s eyes. “It just feels like I am all alone. And I just feel like I am a failure sometimes to my kids because I feel like my kids deserve a father. Sometimes I take the blame because I know I was wrong. I am not sitting here trying to put it all up on him. It was both of us. But I feel like him doing the kids like that, I just feel like that is a whole other level. Whatever me and him going through, he should not put the kids up in it. He put the kids in it.”

“How did I put the kids in it?” Cordell shot back.

“Because if you would have never surrounded yourself around certain men and had intercourse with those men and then had sex with me, maybe we would know what is going on,” Cordell said, his voice rising. “But see, you want to do something with another man and then do something with me, and it leaves us all confused. And that is not right. So that is why I say I feel like she is the reason why we are even in this predicament. Do not have sex with me knowing you are in a relationship.”

“I was not in a relationship,” Belinda insisted.

“Well, you were having sex with your guy—”

Judge Chambers banged her gavel. “Mr. Weatherspoon, I hope you do know you have a large part to play in this.”

Cordell slumped back in his seat. “Okay.”

“And it kills me,” the judge continued, turning to the gallery. “I mean, Jerome, I have never seen too many people—I mean, these two do not agree on one thing. Two different people. But possibly having all these babies. You have not agreed on one thing in an hour, but steady possibly making babies and bringing babies into the world. It is ridiculous.”

She shook her head. “So, while I appreciate the fact that Miss Ferguson’s sexual practices are important to us finding out the paternity issues, please do not think I believe you were innocent in this.”

She took a deep breath. “I am ready for the results. Jerome, hand me the envelope.”

The courtroom went silent. Jerome walked to the bench and handed the judge the sealed envelope. She slit it open and pulled out the papers.

“The first result is for Aiden,” she announced. “These results were prepared by DNA Diagnostics and they read as follows. In the case of Weatherspoon versus Ferguson, when it comes to three-year-old Aiden Ferguson, it has been determined by this court—Mr. Weatherspoon, you are the father.”

The gallery erupted in applause. Belinda burst into tears, her body shaking with the release of years of frustration and hurt. Cordell sat frozen, his face ashen, his mouth hanging open.

“You truly look shocked,” Judge Chambers said. “That little boy you have been ignoring, that is your son.”

Cordell let out a long, slow breath. “I am going to do what I got to do.”

“But it is her fault,” the judge said, reading his mind.

“It is her fault.”

“It is your fault,” the judge corrected him. “You are not angry at her. You are angry at yourself. In moments like this, there is a young boy who is three years old whose father has admittedly neglected him. That was your choice. You cannot change what Miss Ferguson did. What I am not going to let you do is put it all on her. You know, you slept with her, so you were a possibility.”

She picked up the second paper. “We have another result. This result is for Elijah. In the case of Weatherspoon versus Ferguson, when it comes to one-month-old Elijah Ferguson, it has been determined by this court—Mr. Weatherspoon, you are the father.”

The gallery erupted again. Cordell dropped his head into his hands.

“No,” he whispered.

“Now, are you all right?” the judge asked.

Cordell’s voice was hollow. “What am I going to tell them kids? I have missed out on one of them for three years. I was not there for this one. What am I going to tell them kids?”

“You just got to be there for him now,” the judge said softly. “Elijah, at least he will have the opportunity to know you from the beginning. You will never get back the hospital time and the birth, but you can say you brought him home on the first day, because Elijah is not going to remember this. But Aiden knows that he was treated differently, and we are going to start changing that today.”

She looked at Cordell, her voice firm but not unkind. “I would like to meet you in my chambers so that you can see your son and begin to form the kind of bond he so desperately needs and deserves. You understand?”

Cordell nodded slowly, tears forming in his eyes. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“I will see you in my chambers,” Judge Chambers said. “Court is adjourned.”

The gavel came down. Belinda collapsed into her seat, sobbing. Her mother rushed forward from the gallery, wrapping her arms around her. Cordell sat alone at the plaintiff’s table, staring at the empty bench, the weight of two children he had denied pressing down on his shoulders.

He had spent three years running from the truth. He had blamed Belinda, blamed the other men, blamed everyone except the one person who had made the choice to walk out of that hospital room without looking back.

But the DNA did not lie. And neither did the judge.

As the courtroom emptied, Cordell sat in silence, his mind racing. He thought about Aiden—three years old, with dry skin just like his. He thought about Elijah—one month old, a face he had barely glanced at from the back seat of his car. He thought about Cameron—his son, the one he had never doubted, the one he had raised and loved and held.

And for the first time, he wondered what it would feel like to hold Aiden the same way.

He did not have the answer. But he had the rest of his life to figure it out.

Outside the courtroom, Belinda stood in the hallway, her mother’s arm around her waist. She was still crying, but the tears were different now. They were not tears of frustration or anger. They were tears of relief.

“Finally,” she whispered. “Finally.”

Her mother squeezed her tighter. “Told you, baby. The truth always comes out.”

Belinda looked down at her phone. There was a text from Cordell. Three words: “Can I see him?”

She typed back: “Tomorrow. Nine o’clock.”

Then she put her phone away and walked out of the courthouse into the bright afternoon sun. The weight was still there, but it was lighter now. The uncertainty was gone. And for the first time in four years, she allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—her sons would finally have the father they deserved.

It would not be easy. The trust was broken, the years were lost, and the wounds were deep. But the door was open now. And that was more than she had ever dared to hope.