Chapter 2

By the next afternoon, I knew my husband hadn’t just hidden a child from me.

His entire family had hidden a family.

Adrian's mother, Helen, invited me over for lunch.

When I arrived, the dining table was full. Helen had personally cooked baked salmon—my absolute favorite.

"Take the salad away," Helen told the maid as I sat down. "I told you Claire is allergic to walnuts. Make a fresh one."

She turned to me with a warm, loving smile and served me a large piece of fish. "Eat more, Claire. You look so tired lately. You need to take care of yourself."

I looked at her gentle eyes. My heart felt soft.

When Adrian and I got married fifteen years ago, he held my hand in front of his whole family.

He told them: "She is the most important person in my life. You have to love her exactly like I do."

And they did. For fifteen years, Helen treated me like her own daughter. She remembered my allergies. She cooked my favorite meals. She remembered every anniversary.

I always thought I was the luckiest woman in the world.

But after lunch, while walking past the guest room, I saw a piece of paper on the floor.

It was a child's crayon drawing.

Four stick figures holding hands under a yellow sun.

The messy handwriting below them read: Grandma. Dad. Mom. Leo.

I stared at the word Grandma.

I slowly folded the paper and put it in my pocket.

When I went back to the living room, the atmosphere was perfectly normal.

Adrian’s younger sister was complaining about her busy schedule.

"I can't do Friday," she said carelessly, eating an apple. "Leo's Friday—"

She froze.

The room went completely silent.

Helen quickly cleared her throat, her smile stiff. "She means her friend's dog. Claire, let's go look at the flowers in the garden."

"I need to use the restroom first," I said smoothly.

I walked down the hall, but I stopped around the corner.

Through the crack in the door, I heard Helen whispering fiercely to her daughter.

"Are you crazy?" Helen hissed. "Adrian said Claire could never survive knowing how long this has gone on."

"Then when is he ever going to tell her?"

"I don't know. But that decision has to be his."

I stood frozen in the hallway.

My mind instantly flashed back to seven years ago. The day the doctor told me I would never be able to conceive.

I had cried in this very house.

Helen had cooked me hot soup. She hugged me tightly and cried with me.

"A child isn’t everything, Claire," she had murmured, wiping my tears. "Don't cry. You and Adrian are already a family. We are your family."

She wasn't faking her tears back then. She truly cared about me.

But while she was cooking my favorite meals and remembering my allergies, she was also secretly visiting her hidden grandson.

They genuinely loved me.

But they also genuinely chose to betray me for seven years.

That made the betrayal so much worse.

I left the house without saying goodbye.

As soon as I got into my car, my phone buzzed. It was my lawyer, Mara.

"I didn't need much time," Mara said flatly. "I have the results."

"Tell me."

"Over the past seven years, Adrian has paid for Vanessa's rent, her daily living expenses, and Leo's private tuition. He used the joint accounts that you primarily fund."

I gripped the steering wheel. "How much?"

"Around four million dollars."

Four million. Of my money. To raise his second family.

"Check your email," Mara added. "There's one more thing."

I opened the file on my phone. It was a simple legal draft for a trust fund.

Leo Cole — $2,000,000.

"He is preparing to finalize this right after the anniversary gala tomorrow," Mara explained. "Also using your funds."

My screen suddenly lit up with an incoming call.

Adrian.

I answered it, my voice perfectly steady.

"Hey, baby," Adrian said cheerfully. The sound of the gala stage rehearsals echoed in the background. "Tomorrow night. Is everything ready?"

I looked at the draft document on my screen. I stared at the two million dollars next to his son's name.

He sounded so relaxed. So confident.

"Yes, Adrian," I replied softly. "Everything is ready."

24 hours.