My Ex-Wife Dragged Me To Court For Child Support—She Thought She’d Win Easy Money, Until The DNA...

My ex-wife dragged me to court for child support. She thought she'd win easy money until the DNA test turned the whole case upside down. I'm a 34-year-old male who met Sarah, a 31-year-old female, at my best friend Jake's wedding back in 2016.

I was the best man. She was a bridesmaid. And yeah, I know how cliche this sounds, but bear with me.

I was doing pretty well for myself at the time. I had a solid job as an IT consultant for a healthcare company. Those hospital systems don't update themselves.

I had just bought my first house and was finally getting somewhere with my project car, a beatup 67 Mustang that my dad and I had been restoring since I graduated college. Life was good, you know. The wedding was at this fancy vineyard place in Napa.

Jake's wife comes from money. Sarah caught my eye during the rehearsal dinner. She was gorgeous, funny, and seemed really interested in what I did for a living.

Looking back, I should have realized she was more interested in my salary than my job. But hindsight's 2020, right? We hooked up after the reception.

Classic wedding story, I know. But then we kept talking. She lived about an hour away from me and worked as a social media manager for this tech startup that was supposedly going to be the next Facebook for pet owners or something.

I remember being impressed that she had this cool sounding job in tech. Spoiler alert, the startup was basically three guys in a wei work space burning through their parents' money. When the company inevitably went under 6 months later, Sarah was devastated.

She called me crying about how she'd put her heart and soul into this company. Translation posted pictures of dogs on Instagram. By then, we were officially dating and I suggested she move in with me while she figured out her next move.

I had the space and her lease was up anyway. Classic mistake number one, folks. Here's where I need to give you some background about Sarah that I wish I'd known earlier.

She came from an upper middle class family where her dad paid for everything, and I mean everything. Private school, college, fancy car, credit card bills, you name it. when her dad finally cut her off at 25 because apparently even he had a limit.

She bounced between startups and influencer gigs, never staying anywhere long enough to build a real career. But man, she could sell herself. When she moved in, she had all these grand plans about starting her own social media consulting business.

She'd spend hours making PowerPoint presentations about her brand strategy and talking about all these potential clients she was networking with. I actually believe she was building something. Meanwhile, my credit card bills kept getting bigger and bigger.

The first red flag I ignored, and there were many, was when she borrowed my card for some essential business expenses. Turned out these essentials were a $2,000 MacBook Pro because you can't run a business on a regular laptop, a $500 ring light setup, and about $1,000 worth of clothes for business meetings that never happened. When I brought it up, she turned it around on me, saying I wasn't supporting her dream, and that investment in yourself is the best investment.

You know what's sad? I actually fell for it. I was making good money, around $120,000 at the time, had some savings, and thought I was helping someone I loved build their future.

Plus, she was fun to be around when she wasn't spending my money. We'd go on random road trips. She'd leave cute notes around the house, and she actually seemed interested in learning about cars.

Another red flag I missed. She was just pretending. We got married in 2018, about 2 years after meeting.

It wasn't a huge wedding, but it wasn't cheap either. Sarah insisted on having it at the same vineyard where we met because it's our story. Her parents contributed nothing despite all their talk about wanting to help.

My savings took a pretty big hit, but I figured it was worth it. The wedding was beautiful. Everyone had a great time, and Sarah seemed genuinely happy.

My dad pulled me aside during the reception. He's this old school guy who worked the same job at Ford for 30 years and restored cars in his free time. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "Son, did you get a prenup?

" When I nodded, thank God for my lawyer friend Mike who insisted. He relaxed a bit but still seemed worried. Just remember, he said someone who loves you for you won't need your credit card to prove it.

I should have paid more attention to those words, but you know how it is when you're in love. You think you're the exception to every rule. You think your story is different.

You think the red flags are just part of your partner's quirky personality. Boy, was I wrong. After we got married, she stopped even pretending to care about our budget.

It's like the wedding ring was some kind of limitless credit card activation code in her mind. But let me back up and paint you the whole picture of how badly things spiraled. About 3 months after the wedding, I got a promotion at work.

Now I was making around $150,000 as a senior consultant, which should have made life easier. Instead, Sarah took it as a sign that she could finally focus on her personal brand full-time. She quit her part-time job at a local marketing agency, the only real job she'd had in years, without even telling me first.

She just came home one day and announced, "Honey, I'm finally free to pursue my dreams. " Those dreams apparently involve turning our home office into her content creation studio. She spent $5,000 of our savings on camera equipment, lighting, and this ridiculous pink velvet couch that she said would be perfect for her Instagram aesthetic.

When I pointed out that we'd agreed to use that money for a new roof, she actually said, "But babe, this is an investment in our future. Do you want me to work in a space that doesn't inspire me? " Here's where it gets really fun.

She started this YouTube channel about luxury lifestyle on a budget. Ironic, right? The crazy part.

She was using my credit card to buy designer stuff for her videos, then returning most of it after filming. But some things mysteriously never made it back to the store. When I found a shoe box with $900 Louisboutuitton in her closet, she claimed they were props that were essential for her brand.

Meanwhile, my project Mustang that I mentioned earlier, Sarah started complaining that it was taking up too much space in the garage. Mind you, this car was my weekend project with my dad for the past 5 years. We'd restored about 70% of it and I was so close to getting it running.

But Sarah needed the garage for her yoga and wellness space because apparently our spare bedroom wasn't good enough for her YouTube yoga sessions. I came home one day to find she'd listed my car on Facebook Marketplace. She hadn't sold it yet, but she'd already had people coming to look at it.

her excuse. Honey, we need the space. And honestly, you spend too much time on that old car anyway.

Don't you want to support my wellness journey? That was our first huge fight. I'd never yelled at her before, but finding out she tried to sell my car behind my back, I lost it.

She cried, said I was being controlling about money, and then hit me with the classic manipulation, "If you really loved me, you'd want me to succeed. " The next day, she apologized, and promised to never do anything like that again, like an idiot. I believed her, but she started this passive aggressive campaign against the car.

She'd accidentally leave the garage door open on rainy days or store her production equipment right next to it where she could easily bump into it with her boxes. Finally, after she managed to scratch the fresh paint job with her yoga equipment, I gave in and sold the car. My dad was so disappointed.

He didn't say anything directly, but I could see it in his eyes when I told him. That car represented years of weekends we'd spent together, and I let Sarah take that away. the money from the car.

She spent it on a business retreat in Bali that was really just a luxury vacation where she took Instagram photos with other wannabe influencers. She came back with grand plans about starting a wellness coaching business, bought all these essential oils and meditation cushions, set up a website that I paid for, and even ordered business cards with Sarah Mitchell, holistic wellness expert and lifestyle curator, printed on them. Want to know how many clients she got?

Zero. But she managed to rack up $15,000 in credit card debt buying inventory for a skincare line she wanted to launch. The products sat in our garage where my car used to be until they expired.

When I found the boxes of expired facial creams and asked about them, she blamed me for not promoting her business to my cooworker's wives. By this point, I was working 60-hour weeks trying to keep up with her spending. I'd get home late, exhausted, only to find she'd ordered $200 worth of takeout because she was too stressed to cook.

The house was always a mess because she was too busy creating content to clean. But her YouTube channel had a whopping 342 subscribers after a year of full-time hustling. Looking back, I realized she was probably posting about our perfect life on Instagram while maxing out my credit cards.

But I wasn't allowed to follow her social media accounts because she said it would mess with her analytics. Red flag city population me. The breaking point.

I found out she'd taken a loan against my 401k without telling me. She'd figured out my password, my car's model year and name. Yeah, I know, stupid.

And taken out $30,000 for what she called a business opportunity. Turned out she'd blown it all on a mentorship program run by some Instagram guru who promised to help her reach a h 100,000 followers. After discovering the 401k loan, I spent a week sleeping in my office while trying to figure out what to do.

I'd forward my calls to my cell phone and tell people I was testing a new remote work setup. In reality, I was too embarrassed to tell anyone what was happening. My dad's words about the credit cards kept playing in my head on repeat.

Remember my lawyer friend Mike? Well, he'd been trying to warn me about Sarah for years. When I finally called him at 2:00 in the morning from my office couch, he didn't even sound surprised.

He just said, "Send me your calendar link. Let's talk tomorrow. Mike's the kind of friend everyone needs.

" He'd rather help you fix your mess than say, "I told you so. " The next morning, I discovered Sarah had gone on a shopping spree that would make a Kardashian blush. She'd somehow gotten approved for three new credit cards in my name.

The total damage, $47,000. Her excuse? I was stressed about our relationship problems, and retail therapy helps my anxiety.

I wish I was making this up. Mike took one look at the credit card statements and actually laughed. Not because it was funny, but because Sarah had made our divorce case ridiculously easy to win.

See that prenup I mentioned earlier? It had a specific clause about financial misconduct. Thank God for Mike's paranoid planning.

When I finally told my parents what was happening, my mom cried and my dad just sat there cleaning engine parts, his way of processing emotion. Then he said something that changed my perspective. Son, she's not going to stop until she hits rock bottom or finds another target.

right now, you're the easier option. Filing for divorce was surprisingly easy. The hard part was going home and telling Sarah.

I'd planned this whole speech, but when I walked in, she was filming a day in the life of a boss babe video in our kitchen. She'd ordered $300 worth of organic groceries for the background, all on my card, naturally, while our actual fridge was empty. I waited until she finished recording and said, "Sarah, I'm filing for divorce.

" her response. She grabbed her phone and started recording again, saying, "Guys, I have to be real with you about something. I walked out before I could become content for her my truth video series.

The next few weeks were insane. " Sarah tried everything to stop the divorce. First, she lovebombed me with memories of our perfect life together.

She even dug up my old Mustang parts from the garage, which she'd hidden instead of throwing away, and suggested we could restore another car together. Hard pass. When that didn't work, she switched to threats.

I'll tell everyone you were abusive. I wasn't. I'll ruin your career.

She tried, but my boss had met her at company parties and knew exactly what she was like. I'll make sure no woman ever wants to date you again. Spoiler alert, that didn't work either.

The best worst part, she started a whole social media campaign about being a survivor of financial abuse. According to her posts, I was a controlling monster who wouldn't let her work or follow her dreams. Meanwhile, I had spreadsheets showing I'd spent over $200,000 supporting her various business ventures.

Mike was worth every penny during this time when Sarah's lawyer, some guy she found on TikTok, tried to claim she deserved alimony because she'd sacrificed her career for our marriage. Mike pulled out her Instagram posts bragging about being a self-made entrepreneur. Can't claim you gave up your career when you're posting about being a girl boss every day.

The divorce was finalized in early 2021. Thanks to the prenup and Sarah's documented financial misconduct, she got way less than she expected. She did get to keep her business equipment, the camera gear in that pink couch, and a small settlement that I agreed to just to get it over with.

The last time I saw her in court, she tried one final manipulation. "I hope you know you're throwing away the best thing that ever happened to you," she said. Fake tears in her eyes.

I just replied, "The best thing that ever happened to me was Mike suggesting that prenup. " The look on her face was priceless. I spent the next year rebuilding my life.

I got promoted to senior management at work. Turns out working 60-hour weeks has some benefits. I started hitting the gym again.

Amazing how much time you have when you're not funding someone else's Instagram career, and even bought another project car, a 70 Chevel that needed some love. My dad and I spent weekends working on it, making up for lost time. Life was finally good again.

I was dating casually. My credit score was recovering and I'd almost forgotten about Sarah's existence. Almost.

January 2023 started pretty normally. I was in a good place. The Chvel was almost finished.

Work was going great and I'd even started seeing someone new. More on that later. Then I got home one evening to find a certified letter in my mailbox.

The return address was from the county courthouse, which immediately made my stomach drop. I opened it right there in my driveway, and I swear my brain shortcircuited trying to process what I was reading. It was a petition for child support and custody arrangement.

According to these documents, I had a 1-year-old son named Aiden James Mitchell. The petition claimed I'd abandoned my parental responsibility and needed to start paying support immediately. Here's the thing that really fried my brain.

The kid was supposedly born in November 2021. For those keeping track, that's 9 months after our divorce was finalized. Sarah was claiming we'd hooked up one last time right after the divorce.

Absolutely never happened and that she'd gotten pregnant from that. I literally sat in my car for an hour reading and rereading those papers. The document included a birth certificate with my name listed as the father.

She'd actually put my name on a birth certificate without my knowledge. I didn't even know that was legal. The more I read, the more surreal it got.

The petition included a whole Saabb story about how Sarah had tried to contact me throughout the pregnancy, but I'd blocked her on everything. True, but irrelevant since there was no kid. She was asking for $2,800 a month in child support, plus back pay for the past year, and wanted me to cover the kid's medical insurance.

I called Mike immediately. It was 9:00 in the evening, but this was emergency territory. He answered on the first ring because he's literally the best lawyer friend anyone could ask for.

When I told him what was happening, he was quiet for a long moment, then said, "Don't do anything. Don't contact her. Don't post about this online.

Come to my office first thing tomorrow. " That night was probably the longest of my life. I couldn't sleep.

Kept thinking about how Sarah had actually gone and created a whole human being just to scam me. I mean, I knew she was manipulative, but this was next level. I found myself googling how to prove you're not the father at 3:00 in the morning.

The next morning, Mike explained something that made my blood run cold. In our state, if you don't contest paternity within 30 days of being served, you can be legally declared the father by default, even without a DNA test. Sarah had timed this perfectly.

She filed right after the holiday court slowdown, probably hoping I'd missed the deadline while the courts were backed up. But here's where it gets really wild. Mike started digging into the timing, and things weren't adding up.

According to the birth certificate, the kid was born in November 2021, but our divorce wasn't finalized until March 2021. If we'd actually hooked up right after the divorce, like she claimed, the kid would have been born in December 2021 at the earliest. Mike pulled up Sarah's Instagram from a burner account we used to monitor her crazy and found posts of her clearly not pregnant at a music festival in May 2021.

Either she had the world's fastest pregnancy, or she was lying. We filed our response immediately, demanding a DNA test and challenging the birth certificate. But while we waited for the court date, Mike kept digging.

He hired a private investigator. I was already in debt from the divorce, what was a few thousand more, to look into Sarah's recent past. That's when things got interesting.

The PI found out Sarah had been living with some guy named Chris for most of 2022. Chris had been paying her child support under the table about $1,500 a month, but he'd stopped paying around October 2022. Guess when Sarah filed her petition against me?

Yep. December 2022. The PI also found Sarah's Tik Tok because of course she had one.

She'd been posting these dramatic single mom struggles videos about raising a baby alone while the father lives his best life. The comments were full of people supporting her and bashing the unnamed deadbeat dad, aka me. Supposedly, she'd built this whole fake narrative about being abandoned during pregnancy.

But here's the kicker. In one of her videos from July 2022, she accidentally showed a piece of mail on her counter. It was addressed to Chris Anderson, the same Chris who'd been paying her support.

The PI tracked him down and what he told us blew this whole case wide open. Now, let me tell you about Chris and how Sarah's house of cards started tumbling down. Meeting Chris was surreal.

Mike and I met him at a coffee shop outside of town, neutral territory, since we weren't sure if he was involved in Sarah's scam or another victim. Turns out he was definitely a victim, and his story made my blood boil. Chris was a software developer who met Sarah at a Kio working space in early 2021, right after our divorce.

According to him, she introduced herself as a digital marketing consultant who is building her own agency. Sound familiar? She was running the same playbook, just with a different target.

She seemed so genuine, Chris told us, stirring his coffee absent-mindedly. He said she was focused on her career after leaving a toxic marriage where her ex wouldn't let her work. I nearly choked on my drink.

She'd completely flipped our story, making herself the victim of the same thing she'd done to me. Chris and Sarah started dating in March 2021. By May, she'd moved into his downtown loft apartment.

Then in June, she dropped the pregnancy bomb. Chris was excited. He was 36, had a good career, and wanted kids.

Sarah played the perfect expectant mother, going to prenatal yoga classes, and posting bump photos on Instagram. She even had Chris drive her to doctor's appointments, though he noticed she never let him come inside with her because of CO restrictions. Here's where it gets wild.

Sarah had been faking the entire pregnancy. She wore one of those silicone belly props for her Instagram photos. The PI found the purchase receipt on her Amazon account.

She scheduled her appointments for times when the OB/GYN office was actually closed. Chris never questioned it because, well, who lies about being pregnant. In November 2021, Sarah told Chris she was going to visit her sister in another state for a women onlyly baby shower.

A week later, she came back with baby Aiden, claiming she'd gone into early labor while at her sister's. Chris was disappointed about missing the birth, but was too excited about being a dad to question the story for the next year. Chris played dad.

He paid for everything: rent, baby supplies, Sarah's postpartum care, also known as shopping sprees. He even started a college fund for Aiden. Sarah had him completely convinced he was the father, though she always had excuses for why they couldn't add him to the birth certificate yet.

"It's just paperwork," she'd say. "We know you're his dad. That's what matters.

" But crack started showing. Chris noticed Aiden didn't look anything like him or Sarah. When he mentioned this, Sarah would get defensive and accuse him of not loving Aiden enough.

Classic manipulation. Then Chris's mom, who's a nurse, started asking uncomfortable questions about the birth story. The timeline wasn't adding up.

In October 2022, Chris finally insisted on a paternity test. Sarah threw a massive fit, accusing him of betraying their family. But Chris stood firm.

He bought a home DNA test kit. And that's when Sarah showed her true colors. She disappeared one weekend while Chris was at a work conference taking Aiden and most of her stuff.

She left a note saying Chris's lack of trust had broken their family bond. Classic Sarah move. Chris tried to find them, but Sarah had blocked him everywhere.

He stopped paying her unofficial child support and started looking for legal help. That's when she turned to her backup plan. Me.

But here's the crucial part. Chris had receipts. He documented everything after Sarah started acting sketchy about the birth certificate.

He had text messages where she admitted to faking doctor's appointments. He had security camera footage from their building showing her wearing and removing the fake pregnancy belly. And most importantly, he had proof of all the money he'd paid her for his child.

While all this was happening, the PI made another discovery. Sarah's sister, the one who supposedly hosted the baby shower, had been living in Australia since 2020. There was no sister's house, no baby shower, no early labor.

The whole story was fiction. We also found Sarah's baby registry from 2021, registered under Sarah and Chris Anderson. She'd used Chris's last name, even though they weren't married.

The registry was full of expensive items, most of which Chris had bought. She'd run the same scam with him that she tried to run with me, just more elaborately. But the biggest bombshell came when the PI tracked down records from the hospital where Aiden was supposedly born.

There was no record of Sarah giving birth there. In fact, there was no record of her giving birth at any hospital in our state during that time period. That's when Mike's eyes lit up with that look lawyers get when they know they've got someone.

We need to subpoena the real birth records, he said. I think I know what she did, and if I'm right, she's in serious trouble. We filed the subpoena request right away, but courts move slowly.

Meanwhile, our court date for the DNA test was coming up. Sarah's lawyer, still the Tik Tok guy, kept trying to delay it, claiming she was too stressed to handle a court appearance. The day before our hearing, Sarah made one last desperate play.

She posted a tearful video on Instagram about how her abusive ex was trying to deny his own child and asked her followers to pray for her strength. The comments were full of support and people offering to donate to her cause. Little did her followers know, everything was about to come crashing down.

The morning of the court hearing, I was a nervous wreck. Even though we had solid evidence, Sarah had always been good at manipulating situations. I'd seen her talk her way out of crazy situations before, and part of me was worried she'd somehow do it again.

Mike met me outside the courthouse early. He had this thick folder of evidence that he kept patting like it was his lucky charm. Remember, he said, "Let her talk.

The more she says, the more she'll contradict herself. " Chris was there, too, looking like he hadn't slept in days. Can't blame him.

Finding out you've been paying for a kid that might not even be yours would keep anyone up at night. Sarah arrived looking like she'd raided the humble single mom section of a costume shop. No makeup, hair in a messy bun, wearing what looked like scrubs.

She'd never worked in healthcare a day in her life. She had Aiden with her. First time I'd ever seen him.

Cute kid, but didn't look anything like her, which suddenly seemed very relevant. Her Tik Tok lawyer looked nervous, which was our first good sign. He kept whispering to her and showing her something on his phone.

Later found out he'd just discovered some of the evidence we were about to present and was trying to convince her to settle, but Sarah being Sarah thought she could talk her way out of anything. The judge was this older guy who looked like he'd seen every trick in the book. When Sarah's lawyer tried to delay the DNA test again, claiming she had religious objections.

Since when? The judge just stared at him until he sat down. Then Mike stood up and dropped the first bomb.

Your honor, before we proceed with the DNA test, we have evidence that the birth certificate submitted to this court was fraudulently obtained. The judge raised an eyebrow. The universal signal for this better be good.

Mike pulled out the subpoenaed hospital records, or rather the lack of them. There was no record of Sarah giving birth anywhere in the state. But that wasn't the bombshell.

The real shocker was what the PI had found when he dug deeper into Aiden's background. Turns out Sarah had gotten Aiden's birth certificate using a technique common in identity theft. She'd taken advantage of a clerical error in a small county office, submitting paperwork that made it look like a home birth with a midwife.

The midwife, whose name she used, retired 3 years ago. The address she listed, a vacant lot. But here's the part that made everyone in the courtroom gasp.

We had proof that Sarah had been shopping around for a baby around the time Aiden was supposedly born. The PI found messages from her on various social media platforms, reaching out to pregnant women about private adoption. Some of these women had come forward when they saw her posts about being a single mom.

Sarah's face went through about 50 different expressions as Mike laid out the evidence. When he showed screenshots of her wearing the fake pregnancy belly in different states, thanks to Chris's security cameras, she actually tried to object, saying the footage was taken out of context. The judge shut her down hard.

Miss Mitchell, unless you're about to explain how security footage can misrepresent a fake pregnancy belly, I suggest you let your counsel do the talking. Her lawyer looked like he wanted to disappear. Can't blame him.

He was probably realizing he was way out of his depth. When Mike presented the proof that Sarah had been simultaneously claiming Chris and me as Aiden's father, the lawyer actually started packing up his briefcase. Then came the moment that broke Sarah's performance.

The judge asked her directly, "Miss Mitchell, can you provide any medical documentation of your pregnancy and delivery? " Sarah started her usual act, tears welling up, voice shaking. "Your honor, I I was very traumatized by the birth experience.

I didn't keep records because the judge cut her off. That's not what I asked. Do you have any medical proof that you gave birth to this child?

" For the first time since I'd known her, Sarah was completely speechless. She looked around the courtroom like she was searching for an escape route. Then she did something I never thought I'd see.

She broke character completely. "This is ridiculous," she snapped, her humble mom voice replaced by the entitled tone I remembered from our marriage. "I don't have to prove anything to you.

That home birth was totally legal. " Mike was practically grinning. "Your honor, we have one more piece of evidence.

" He pulled out one last document, the real bombshell that would end this once and for all. Mike handed the judge a file containing police reports from a small town about 3 hours away. In November 2021, right when Sarah claimed she'd given birth, there had been a series of reports about a woman matching Sarah's description hanging around the local hospital's maternity ward.

She'd been posing as a lactation consultant trying to get access to new mothers. The judge read through the file, his expression growing darker by the second. Then he looked at Sarah and said something I'll never forget.

Miss Mitchell, are you aware that trafficking in minors is a federal offense? The entire courtroom went dead silent. Sarah's lawyer actually stood up and said, "Your honor, I need to withdraw as counsel.

I can no longer represent Miss Mitchell in this matter. " Then he straight up packed his briefcase and walked out. Never seen anything like it.

Sarah started to panic. This is all a misunderstanding. She screamed.

But Mike wasn't done. He had one more witness, a young woman named Jessica, who'd been admitted to that hospital in November 2021. She'd given birth to a baby boy, but had been experiencing postpartum depression.

Sarah had befriended her, posing as a social worker, and convinced her to temporarily sign over guardianship of her baby while she got help. Jessica had been trying to find her son for over a year. She'd reported it to the police, but Sarah had used fake documents and a fake name.

It wasn't until she saw one of Sarah's Tik Toks about being a single mom that she recognized her and reached out to our PI. The judge immediately ordered DNA testing, not just to prove I wasn't the father, but to confirm if Aiden was Jessica's son. Sarah completely lost it.

She tried to run out of the courtroom with Aiden, but the baiff stopped her. She was screaming about how she was just trying to give him a better life and how no one understands what it's like to want a baby so badly. The DNA results came back within a week through an expedited order.

Aiden was indeed Jessica's son. Sarah had essentially stolen a baby from a vulnerable mother and then tried to use him to scam multiple men for child support. The judge was furious.

The consequences came down like a hammer. Sarah was charged with multiple felonies, including fraud, identity theft, and custody interference. Both Chris and I were granted restraining orders against her.

She was ordered to pay back every penny Chris had given her in fake child support. She's facing 15 to 20 years in prison, still awaiting final sentencing. The judge referred the case to the FBI for potential federal charges.

Jessica got Aiden back, and it turns out she's an amazing mom. She'd gotten treatment for her postpartum depression and had been searching for her son non-stop. She even reached out to thank me and Chris for helping expose Sarah's scheme.

She's now working with a nonprofit that helps mothers with postpartum depression and advocates for better hospital security. Chris and I actually became friends through all this. We meet up sometimes to work on the chevel and talk about how we both fell for Sarah's act.

He's doing better now dating a nice woman who actually has a real job. She's a teacher. As for me, I finally finished restoring the chvel with my dad.

My girlfriend, the one I mentioned, loves going for rides in it and is actually interested when I talk about cars. No pretending. She helped organize all the evidence for the trial and says this whole experience will make a great story for her law school application.

Sarah's social media empire crumbled once the truth came out. Her followers turned on her hard and several drama channels on YouTube covered the story. Last I heard, she's trying to get a plea deal, but the prosecutor isn't being very generous.

Turns out there might be other victims we don't know about yet. The biggest lesson I learned from all this, when someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. Sarah showed me her true colors during our marriage with all the financial scams, but I kept making excuses.

If id trusted my gut and my dad's wisdom, sooner, maybe I could have helped prevent what happened to Chris and Jessica. But at least Justice finally caught up with her.