Chapter 1

The day I learned I was eight weeks pregnant, I found my husband celebrating the fifth birthday of the daughter he had hidden from me.

Two hours earlier, the doctor had placed the ultrasound photo in my trembling hands.

"There is the heartbeat," she said.

A tiny white flicker pulsed on the screen.

Six years ago, I had woken in another hospital room and learned that our first baby was gone.

The doctors warned me that I might never conceive again. Vincent had cried beside me and held me through the night.

"You are my family," he had promised. "A baby could never change that."

Now, against every prediction, there was a new life growing inside me.

On the way to the Grand Horizon Hotel, I tucked the ultrasound photo and a pair of tiny white baby socks into my purse, already imagining the way his gray-blue eyes would brighten when I told him.

His assistant had said he was trapped in an important meeting on the top floor.

But as I crossed the third-floor corridor, laughter drifted through the half-open doors of a banquet hall.

A huge banner covered the far wall.

Happy 5th Birthday, Rosie.

A little girl in a silver birthday crown raced across the room and threw herself into Vincent’s arms.

"Daddy!"

He caught her without hesitation.

"Did you miss me, princess?"

My stomach dropped instantly.

Beside him stood Celia, his former PR manager. She reached up and wiped white frosting from the corner of his mouth.

My mother-in-law, Judith, was arranging a mountain of gifts nearby.

"He has never missed one of her birthdays," she told Celia with a smile.

Never missed one.

Rosie was five.

My fingers closed around the tiny socks inside my purse.

Rosie touched Vincent’s face. "Daddy, do I look like you?"

He brushed her hair back tenderly.

"Exactly like me."he answered naturally.

Standing in the dark hallway, my hands turned to ice.

I stepped away from the doors before anyone saw me. My knees were shaking, but I did not walk in.

But I did not push the doors open. Instead, I took a step back, pulled out my phone, and called him.

Inside the hall, his phone rang. Vincent set Rosie down, kissed her crown, and moved into a quiet corner.

"Hi, sweetheart," his voice was soft and gentle.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"I am still in the meeting," he lied instantly. "It is very busy."

I did not speak.

Vincent heard my silence, and his tone changed immediately.

"Maren? Are you okay? You sound tired," his voice sharpened with concern. "Are you sick?"

His lie about the meeting was perfect, but his worry for my health was completely real.

"I am just tired," I said.

"Go home and rest right now," he urged quickly. "I will leave the meeting, buy your favorite strawberry tart, and come home to you."

In the hotel restroom, I locked myself inside a stall and finally opened my purse.

The ultrasound photo lay beside the tiny socks.

Then I put everything back.

I texted my friend Megan.

[Is the room behind your cousin’s inn still empty?]

I looked through the restroom mirror at the woman Vincent still believed would be waiting at home.

[Keep it for me. Do not tell anyone—especially my husband.]

Two hours later, Vincent came home.

I was sitting on the living room sofa when he walked in holding a white bakery box. He quickly took off his coat and walked straight to me.

"Why are your hands so cold?" he frowned.

Sitting next to me, he took my icy hands and rubbed them firmly between his warm palms. He pulled a thick blanket over my shoulders. His gaze was full of absolute love.

"How was your hospital checkup today?" he asked gently.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling my body close to his chest. One of his large, warm hands slid down and rested perfectly flat against my lower belly.

He rubbed my stomach gently to warm me up.

He loved me so much, but his shirt still smelled faintly of sweet cake frosting.

He had spent five years being another little girl's father.

He still did not know that his next child was growing right beneath his hand.