Chapter 1

My husband was smiling in another woman’s family portrait, his hand on her shoulder while she held a baby with his gray-blue eyes.

I stared at the photograph on my desk.

For one foolish second, I thought it had to be someone who looked like him.

Then I saw the scar beside his left eyebrow.

I had kissed that scar countless times.

My fingers went cold.

"When was this taken?" I asked.

Sarah, the studio manager, checked the client file.

"Six years ago. The baby was three months old."

Six years ago, Stellan and I had been newly married.

I remembered him holding my hands at our wedding.

I remembered him promising that I would be his only family.

I turned the photograph over.

Client: Maris Hale.

Child: Arden Hale.

Father: Stellan Hale.

A sharp pain spread through my chest.

I wanted to call Stellan and scream until he gave me an answer.

Instead, I pressed my nails into my palm.

It was my first morning as the new owner of Everlight Studio. The acquisition had been kept private until the studio’s fifteenth-anniversary relaunch. Stellan knew I had bought a portrait business.

He had never bothered to ask me which one.

That morning, Sarah had brought me Everlight’s longest-running family files so I could choose several for the anniversary exhibition.

One of them contained my husband.

Now my husband’s secret life lay open on my desk.

The file contained six Christmas sessions.

In the second photograph, the baby sat on Stellan’s knee.

In the third, the boy wore pajamas matching Stellan’s.

By the fourth, he was kissing Stellan’s cheek. The fifth showed the woman—identified in the file as Maris Hale—leaning against my husband while snowflake confetti clung to his hair.

The sixth had been taken last December.

Stellan’s arm circled Maris’s waist.

A boy of about six stood between them, holding both their hands.

They wore matching red sleepwear and smiled with the unguarded ease of people who knew where to stand.

The title beneath them read:

THE HALE FAMILY

I stared at those three words.

Stellan and I had been married for six years.

We had wedding photographs, pictures from other people’s dinners, and blurred vacation selfies taken by strangers.

We did not have one formal family portrait.

I had tried once.

During our fourth Christmas, I booked a session at a department store and bought a silver frame for the photograph.

Stellan arrived forty minutes late.

He took one look at the waiting families and sighed.

"We don’t need a picture to prove we’re a family, Linnea."

I had believed him.

I had smiled, canceled, and carried the empty silver frame home beneath my coat.

It still stood in our bedroom, filled with the sample photograph that came with it.

Now I knew where he had been.

He had not hated family photos.

He had only hated taking them with me.

My eyes burned, but I did not cry.

"Do they come every year?" I asked.

"Every Christmas," Sarah said. "They’ve already reserved their seventh session."

She turned to the final page.

The booking was for the following Saturday.

Participants: Maris Hale, Stellan Hale, Arden Hale.

Status: Awaiting Confirmation.

"Should I cancel it?" Sarah asked.

I reached for my phone.

One call would be enough.

I could ask Stellan who Maris was. I could demand to know why a six-year-old boy carried his name.

My thumb hovered over his number.

But if I confronted him now, he would have eight days to build another story.

I set the phone facedown.

"No," I said."Don’t cancel them."

I wanted to see what kind of husband and father Stellan became when he thought I was not watching.

I turned the monitor toward me.

Everlight offered several anniversary packages. I selected the most extensive one.

FAMILY STORY PACKAGE

Sarah read the description and looked at me.

"That requires both parents and the child to attend. They’ll also review their previous family portraits during the interview."

"I know."

I clicked UPGRADE.

Then I selected the Hale file for the anniversary exhibition shortlist.

LEGACY FAMILY FEATURE — APPROVED

The confirmation went directly to Maris.

Three minutes later, my computer chimed.

A reply appeared beneath the reservation.

[Thank you. Stellan and Arden will both be there.]

Then another sentence loaded.

[This matters to us because it will be our last Christmas as a secret family.]

I read it twice.

Not another Christmas.

Their last one in hiding.

Whatever Stellan had promised Maris was supposed to happen after Saturday.

And my husband had eight days left to tell me about it.