Chapter 2

That night, Everett fell asleep with his arm draped protectively across my paralyzed legs.

I waited until his breathing grew deep and steady. Carefully, I lifted his arm, rolled my wheelchair out of the bedroom, and went into his bathroom to pull several strands of hair from his comb.

Then, I wheeled down the hall to Nico's room.

He was sleeping soundly, clutching the stuffed bear I had bought him. Five years ago, when the doctors told me I could never have children, Everett had wiped my tears and gently suggested we adopt.

He had placed Nico in my arms himself.

I stared at the boy I had loved as my own flesh and blood. He shifted in his sleep, and his blanket slipped down.

I reached out and gently pulled the blanket back over his small shoulders.

My chest tightened with a suffocating ache. I did not blame the child, but I desperately needed the truth.

I took his toothbrush, slipped it into a plastic bag, and wheeled to the back door to hand the samples to Conrad's courier in the dark.

The next morning, Everett made my favorite breakfast.

"I booked a lake cabin for us next month," he said, setting a plate of pancakes in front of me. "It is fully wheelchair accessible. Just the two of us. You deserve a break."

He kissed my forehead.

He was planning a quiet getaway with his disabled wife for the exact same week he would be on a honeymoon with his new bride.

"Thank you," I said calmly. "I can't wait."

Everett smiled, completely satisfied, and left for work.

At two in the afternoon, my phone rang. It was Conrad.

"The expedited lab results are back," the investigator said. His voice was unusually heavy. "Tessa... Everett is Nico's biological father. And Marlowe is his biological mother."

The words dropped into the quiet room like stones.

The truth finally formed a perfect, horrifying circle.

There was no miracle adoption. Five years ago, my husband and his assistant had a child together. Instead of taking responsibility or facing a divorce, Everett had brought their illegitimate baby into my home.

He had let me exhaust my youth, my love, and my health raising the child he had with another woman.

I hung up the phone.

I looked at the framed family portraits on the living room wall. I did not cry, and I did not shatter a single frame.

I picked up my phone again and called my corporate lawyer.

"Julian," I said. "Draft my divorce papers immediately. And begin quietly liquidating all my shares in Everett's company."

"Tessa? Is something wrong?" Julian asked.

"I need everything finalized and ready to sign in three days," I told him, looking at the calendar.