It happened back during my student days.

I was working as an assistant, accompanying a lawyer to court hearings.

The case involved a married couple going through a divorce.

The husband had built a major business and was very well-off.

He was a calm man—clearly a caring one, too. The couple had three children, aged 12, 7, and 3. The husband had read his wife’s correspondence with her lover; he realized he had been cheated on and that the youngest child was not his. A divorce petition followed shortly thereafter.

The husband was willing to pay child support for two of the children, and he pleaded with his wife—doing everything in his power—to keep the proceedings free of scandal.

The wife, however, couldn't help herself. Declaring, «Since you have the audacity to doubt me, we’ll have DNA tests done on *all* the children—just so you can be shamed,» she filed a formal motion for forensic testing.

At the final hearing, the judge stared wide-eyed at the DNA test results, while the now-somewhat-crestfallen wife uttered a memorable line: «Well, I *assumed* the other two were definitely his… so where on earth am I supposed to find *their* fathers now?»