Chapter 1
Inside his suitcase, I found an invitation to a baby's one-month celebration.
It was bright red, with gold lettering embossed across its front cover.
I assumed it belonged to one of his colleagues.
But when I flipped it open, the baby the celebration honored bore his family name, Warren.
The child was Lucas Warren.
I went still.
My daughter's name was Sophie Warren.
David Warren had once said that names he personally chose were a special mark reserved only for his own children.
I glanced at the date printed at the bottom.
The celebration was set for the day after tomorrow.
That was the exact day he claimed he would leave on a three-day business trip.
*****
I stared at the invitation for a long time.
The cover was bright red, and the characters were embossed in gold. [Lucas Warren's Full Moon Celebration.]
Next to it, in smaller print: Grand Regency Hotel, Ballroom A.
My hand trembled.
David was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, the water running loud enough to muffle all sound outside.
I slipped the invitation back into place and zipped the suitcase shut.
He said, "Honey, I'm leaving for a business trip the day after tomorrow. I'll be gone for about three days."
He came out of the bathroom, wiping his face.
I murmured, settling back into bed. "Where are you going?"
He replied, "Ridgemont. There's a project at work."
I gave a quiet nod.
He glanced at me, as if gauging my reaction.
He said, "Will you be alright on your own? If Mom cannot make it, I will have the housekeeper stop by more often."
I said quietly, "That will not be necessary."
I turned away from him and rolled over in bed.
"Get some rest," he said, and switched off the light.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
The child was Lucas Warren.
That name echoed in my mind all night.
My daughter's name was Sophie Warren.
When she was born, David was in a meeting.
I signed the surgery consent form all by myself.
He had once told me he had personally picked a dedicated name and reserved it solely for his own children.
Every child of his, son or daughter, would carry it in their full name.
So who was Lucas Warren?
I didn't dare think any further.
But I couldn't help myself.
The next day, David left for work.
Once Sophie fell asleep, I began searching through his belongings.
I found nothing in the closet and nothing in the drawers.
His computer was locked, and I did not know the password.
At last, I found his spare phone. It sat tucked at the very back of a drawer in his study.
There was no password.
I pulled up WhatsApp.
A contact saved as "Baby" sat pinned to the top of the list.
I tapped into the chat and scrolled upward.
From "Baby": [Honey, our son smiled for the first time today.
[Honey, when are you coming over?
[Honey, did you lock in the venue for the baby's one-month reception? Your mom says we'll need space for 38 tables.]
Your mom.
She is David's mom and also my mother-in-law.
Blood surged to my head.
I kept scrolling upward.
From "Baby": [Honey, I'm having contractions. Hurry and come.]
The message was dated November 15.
I remembered that date clearly.
That was the day David claimed he was tied up in an important meeting.
He said he couldn't come to the hospital.
I was heavily pregnant and completely alone, signing the surgical consent form outside the delivery room.
David said, "Honey, I'm sorry. I can't leave this meeting right now. I'll come as soon as you're out."
But he never showed up.
He didn't arrive until the afternoon, after I'd already given birth to Sophie.
He showed up with a bouquet in hand, a smile on his face.
He said, "Honey, you've worked so hard. Our daughter is so beautiful."
I believed he was swamped with work.
But now I knew the truth.
That day, he was at another hospital. He was there, supporting another woman as she gave birth.
I opened her Moments feed.
On November 15th, she posted: [Thank you for being by my side, honey. Welcome to the world, my son.]
The attached photo showed a tiny infant hand curled around an adult's finger.
On November 12th, I made a post: [My daughter, I've been waiting for you for so long.]
The photo showed me alone in a hospital bed, cradling Sophie in my arms.
He wasn't there.
The two kids were born only three days apart.
When I was giving birth to Sophie, he was right there with that other woman, waiting for her to deliver his child.
I sat on the floor, clutching his phone to my chest, and burst out laughing.
But as I laughed, tears started rolling down my cheeks.
David, you truly outdid yourself.
I kept scrolling upward.
The earliest messages dated back two years.
We had only been married for one year at that point.
I was still trying to get pregnant.
But he already had someone else on the side.
I have no idea how I got through that day.
Sophie woke up, and I fed her. I changed her diaper and tried to get her to sleep. Then I fed her again, changed her diaper again, and tried to get her to sleep again.
It was all so mechanical, like I was going through the motions.
My mind was completely blank.
That evening, David called.
He said, "Honey, I've got a work dinner tonight, so that I won't be home."
I said, "Okay."
"Get some rest."
"Okay."
"Call me if you need anything."
"Okay."
I hung up.
I stared at the ceiling, lost in thought for a long time.
Tomorrow, he was leaving for his "business trip."
He would go to the one-month party for his mistress's child.
The child was Lucas Warren. Only one letter off from my daughter's name.
What was I supposed to do?
Should I cry? Make a scene? Confront him?
What would come after that?
He would attempt to smooth things over, mumble apologies and promises to do better, then return to his old habits.
No. I would not accept that.
I picked up my phone and ran a search: "How to divorce a cheating husband and come out ahead."
I spent the whole night researching.
The next day, I made up my mind.
I was going to crash that party. I had to see it for myself. And then, I was going to end this marriage with my own hands.