When my son Ryan was a senior in college, his girlfriend of just three weeks told him she was pregnant. He was overwhelmed but determined to “do the right thing.” When he came to me for advice, I told him I’d support him—but suggested a DNA test before he made any life-changing decisions.

Ryan agreed. The results said he was the father, and he proposed soon after.

That’s when everything turned ugly.

His girlfriend, Shelley, was furious that I’d even suggested the test. She told everyone I was cruel, controlling, and trying to sabotage their relationship. Her family believed her. I was quietly uninvited from the wedding, and my son—under immense pressure—went along with it. I stayed silent, even though it broke my heart.

Then, two weeks before the wedding, Shelley’s mother called me.

“Get in the car and come over,” she said, shaking. “We need to cancel the wedding.”

When I arrived, she told me the truth: Shelley had been seeing another man at the same time. Terrified the baby might not be Ryan’s, she paid someone to tamper with the DNA test. The results Ryan saw weren’t real.

We told Ryan immediately. A legitimate test was done days later.

He was not the father.

The wedding was canceled. Shelley eventually admitted everything. Ryan graduated, built a good life, and later married a woman who truly loved him. Today, he’s a devoted father to a little girl who adores him.

He once told me, “That test saved my life.”

Sometimes love means being misunderstood—so the people you love can be protected anyway.