My Wife Told Me That Our 3-Year-Old Son Was Buried - A Day Later I Found Out the Horrible Truth

My wife, Natalie, and I split after five years together. We were young when we first met, so when things fizzled out, we didn't try hard enough to make things work.

Since the divorce, we now live in different states — the quickest way to get to each other is by flight. But to make things complicated, we share a three-year-old son, Oliver.

Although I get all the holidays with my son, it's not enough. But I didn't want to fight with Natalie. It was more important for us to be on good terms rather than constantly fighting.

Oliver didn't deserve to be in a family where the parents constantly fought. I believed that, and Natalie did, too.

Every evening before bed, Natalie would video call me with Oliver so that he could say goodnight. It had become our routine, and it was a comfort to me.

So, everything was going fine, until Natalie called me in tears one day.

"Greg!" she screamed into the phone. "Our son's gone!"

"What?" I asked, unable to comprehend her words.

"Oliver is dead," she repeated.

"What? How? What happened?" I asked, sinking to the ground in my living room.

"It all —" she started talking before getting cut off.

"What?" I repeated.

"He's just gone, Greg."

"I'll be there soon. I'll get the next flight out."

"Don't," Natalie said. "We've already had a ceremony. He's been buried."

I hung up, devastated. How could Oliver have passed away? And why didn't Natalie tell me anything sooner? It made no sense. If he was sick or something had happened, I deserved to know.

And then the whole thing about Oliver being buried? Natalie had the time to tell me and chose not to.

I bought the next ticket to Natalie's city — unfortunately, it was only the next day. I stared at my computer screen the entire evening, looking at the departure details and wondering what had happened.

I couldn't believe that Oliver, my little guy, was dead.

I hated Natalie for not inviting me to the funeral. How could you forget to tell the father? And if not Natalie, because of her grief, why didn't her parents call me? Or even Mike, her new husband?

The next day, as I was packing my bags, I got a phone call from Mike.

"Hi, Mike," I said. "I'm on my way. I'll be there by tonight."

"Wait, Greg," he said softly. "I need to tell you something."

The words Greg said shocked me to my core.

"Natalie has lost her mind. She made all of this up. Oliver is alive, Greg."

"What?" I asked, stunned.

"Natalie made it up," Mike repeated. "Oliver is with Natalie's parents."

It turns out that while I spent the entire night mourning my child, Natalie had made up a story in the hopes that I would leave her life forever.

It made sense — without Oliver, I did not need to be in contact with her.

According to Mike, Natalie had let it slip that she didn't want me interfering in their lives anymore. Despite her pleading, Mike said he called me immediately when Natalie told him.

Now, knowing the truth, I felt a rollercoaster of emotions. My child was alive. But I was also so furious at Natalie.

Even after the divorce, I never mentioned wanting Oliver's sole custody. He needed us equally. But for her to go to these lengths, to keep Oliver to herself?

I packed the rest of my things and went to the airport. I needed to know more.

When Natalie answered the door, her eyes filled with tears, and her lips quivered.

"Greg," she said meekly, letting me in.

"How could you do that to me?" I asked, setting my luggage down in the hall.

"I thought you would take Oli from me," she said.

"Why would I do that?" I asked her. It was a ridiculous thought.

"Because I'm pregnant with another child. I was worried that you would take Oliver away from me once you found out. There would be another child with me, and you'd want to keep Oli with you — that's what I thought."

Natalie started crying, clearly shaken by her actions.

"Natalie," I said softly, aware that Mike had entered the room.

"This changes things, but it doesn't excuse what you did. It would help if you had trusted me enough to be open and honest. I would never have separated Oliver from you. He needs both of us. But I am so angry and hurt by the lie. I went hours thinking my son was dead."

Natalie sat and sobbed for a long time, cradling her stomach every few minutes.

Then, I heard the sound of little footsteps running through the hallway.

"Daddy!" Oliver screamed and jumped into my arms.

I refused to let him go.

Ultimately, I reassured Natalie that I wasn't there to take Oliver away. But I was also firm that if she did something like that again, I would be forced to take legal action.

On one hand, I think I understand the pain and uncertainty that Natalie felt at the thought of losing her child. But it also made no sense. Given the opportunity, I would have told her I was happy Oliver would be a big brother.

I've insisted that Natalie and I go to counseling to address any underlying issues from our divorce.

Mike has been a great source of support for her, and I'm grateful that if anyone had to be a stepfather to my son, it's the man who phoned me and told me the truth.

I've returned home, but I'm looking for jobs closer to Oliver.

Have you been told any lies that threatened life as you know it?

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