This is a story about how a Malaysian man spent RM2.7 million on his family, only to discover his children were illegitimate.
For more than 20 years, I lived my life thinking I was a husband and father—providing, sacrificing, and pushing through whatever storms life threw at me. My marriage to Mellissa (anonymized) and the family we built became the compass for every major decision: career shifts, migrating overseas, taking on debt, and putting my emotional health on the line.
Then, in 2023, everything unraveled. A simple DNA test delivered a blow no man ever wants to hear—neither of the children I raised were biologically mine.
This is not a sob story. I’m not asking for sympathy. I’m telling this because the consequences of misplaced trust are real—and I don’t want any other man in Malaysia, regardless of race or religion, to walk blindly into a similar nightmare.
So I ask: What happens when the family you built is founded on lies?
How It All Started
Back in ‘99, I was just a regular guy, working as an operations clerk. Mellissa was a billing clerk at the same company. It started off professional—nothing out of the ordinary—until one day, she rang me from a public phone, crying and scared.
She said she was being abused by another man—”Shariff.” I didn’t think twice. I helped hide her at a friend’s place, and during that time, she opened up to me. From sympathy, things grew deeper. She became my girlfriend, and not long after, we moved in together.
I was in love. I felt responsible for her, loyal, hopeful. Only later did I find out she was actually engaged to Shariff at the time. But I brushed it off. I chose to trust her. Big mistake.
The First Red Flag I Ignored
In October 2001, Mellissa told me she was pregnant. I was stunned. Our intimacy was… let’s just say, not frequent. She had even said she wasn’t keen on having kids.
Still, we rushed into marriage at the Buddhist Maha Vihara Temple in Brickfields. Come May 2002, she gave birth to our daughter, Sandra—just seven months later.
Looking back, the math didn’t add up. But I silenced the doubts. I was already invested. I chose love. I chose trust.
Another Pregnancy, Another Excuse
In 2004, Mellissa went to Medan with so-called “friends.” When she came back, she accidentally let it slip that her trip involved only male company. A few months later, she was pregnant again.
Our bedroom life hadn’t exactly improved, so yeah—I had questions. But once again, I let work stress and blind trust get the better of me.
Migration and Meltdown
We moved to Adelaide in 2013. You know how expensive those visas are? Subclass 163 nearly drained me dry. I put everything I had into it—over AUD500,000 (that’s about RM1.5 million) into a home and courier business.
Later, I bought a restaurant to secure Permanent Residency. That too failed—poor management, chaos, and zero support from Mellissa. Another RM600,000 gone, just like that.
In 2018, our visas expired. I returned to Malaysia, but Mellissa and the kids stayed. Just like that, my family chose Australia over me.
The Truth Starts to Show
Back in Malaysia, I started noticing things that didn’t sit right. Mellissa tried to get PR through various visa routes, all rejected. We spent over AUD20,000 in legal fees. Meanwhile, our daughter was being nudged into nursing—a profession with a fast-track to Aussie PR.
That’s when I realised—this wasn’t about family. It was a strategy. It was survival. And I was just a stepping stone.
The DNA That Changed Everything
Friends, even my own siblings, started saying the kids didn’t look like me. I had ignored these whispers for years. But deep inside, something had started to break.
My lawyer pushed me to take action. So, on my birthday in 2023, I sent the DNA samples to Jabatan Kimia Malaysia. Like most government processes, it was lots of waiting, chasing, and dead silence in between. The results crushed me. Neither of the children were mine.9
The results crushed me. Neither of the children were mine.
I won’t lie—it broke me. Depression hit hard. I had dark thoughts. But I had good people in my corner. Friends who refused to let me spiral.
When Love Is Not Enough
After the DNA results came out, everything changed—just not in the way I had hoped. The children I had raised, protected, and loved as my own… cut me off completely. It felt like I had been deleted from their lives—like a ghost in a story I spent two decades writing.
I tried to reach out. I wasn’t their father by blood, sure—but I was there. I fed them. Held them. Stayed up nights when they were sick. Paid for everything. I was their father in every way that mattered.
And I didn’t know what to do with that kind of emptiness. How do you process the idea that you gave your heart, your years, your money, your entire self—only to be erased overnight? There’s no guidebook, no answer to the questions: “If I wasn’t their father, then who was I? What was I doing?
I was shattered—angry, ashamed of my blind trust, and terrified of what silence could do to me. I’ve survived, but I’m not the same. There’s a scar now—a permanent one.
Love, I learned the hard way, love given in good faith doesn’t guarantee love returned. It’s not enough to keep a family together. Not enough to earn loyalty. And betrayal doesn’t care how much you’ve sacrificed.
The Courts and the Cost of Truth
When I filed the paternity suit, the Family Court struck it out, accusing me of delay tactics. Just like that. So far, I’ve poured over RM500,000 into legal costs. There’s another RM120,000 coming up.
Our joint HSBC account? She could still withdraw. I couldn’t touch a sen without legal risk. That account is empty now.
A separate Civil Court case is ongoing. They’ve allowed a new paternity suit—but her lawyers are doing everything to block another DNA test.
I’m still fighting. Not just for myself. But for every man who’s been trapped by lies.
Final Thoughts: A Hard-Learned Lesson
My late mother used to tell me, “Character is everything.” I wish I had listened harder.
So, to all the abang-abang, uncles, and brothers out there: when your child is born, get the DNA test. Don’t be shy. Don’t feel guilty. You’re not doubting your partner—you’re protecting your future.
I’m not here to shame anyone. But I won’t stay silent. This is a real problem. This is paternity fraud. And in Malaysia, it’s happening more than people are willing to admit.
If you’re going through something similar—know this: you’re not alone. Speak up. Fight back. And most importantly, don’t let misplaced trust steal years of your life.
*Names and details have been changed for privacy.
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Read also: “He Chose Me Not Love,” M’sian Woman Shares What It’s Like to Be Married to a Self-described Sociopath
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