Chapter 3

I read those words three times.

Wife and son.

In the photo, Celeste was wrapped in Ethan's coat, her face pressed against his shoulder.

Milo sat on Ethan's lap with both arms around his neck.

Ethan had his head lowered protectively over the boy, soot smeared across his profile. He looked like a hero who had just rescued his family from a disaster.

"What a brave father."

"Thank God your family is safe."

No one knew that his real wife and daughter had still been trapped in the fire.

I pulled up Ethan's number. My thumb hovered over the call button as my chest tightened painfully.

He wasn't missing. He had simply chosen to stay with Celeste.

A nurse came in to remove my IV.

"Your daughter is awake. The doctor says there's no serious damage to her lungs, but she needs to remain under observation."

I walked into Lucy's room.

An oxygen tube ran beneath her nose. Her little face was pale, and the red inhaler rested beside her bed.

"Did Daddy come?" she asked.

I pulled the blanket up around her. "Not yet."

The quiet in her voice, as though she had already known the answer, hurt more than tears would have.

"Last night, you said Milo calls him Dad."

Lucy's fingers curled into the blanket. "I promised I wouldn't tell."

"Who made you promise?"

"Milo. He said if anyone found out, Celeste would take him away and Daddy would get mad."

She reached beneath her pillow and pulled out a blue envelope blackened by smoke.

"He gave it to me at school last month. Our teacher told us to make birthday cards for someone in our family. He wrote the wrong name on his, so he asked me to hide it for him. I've kept it with me ever since."

My fingers suddenly went numb.

Inside the envelope was a card with four people drawn on it.

Ethan stood in the middle, holding Celeste's hand on one side and Milo's on the other.

The fourth person was Lucy, drawn at the very edge of the picture.

On the back of the card, Ethan had written:

"To my son. One day, we won't have to hide anymore."

Eight years ago, he had signed our marriage certificate in that same handwriting.

Seven years ago, he had signed Lucy's birth certificate with it too.

The door opened, and my head snapped up.

It wasn't Ethan. It was Daniel.

He had changed out of his firefighting gear, and one arm was wrapped in bandages. In his other hand, he carried the coat Lucy had left in the fire engine.

"Sorry, I knocked." He stopped in the doorway. "Do you two need some privacy?"

I shook my head, only to realize I couldn't speak.

Daniel noticed the card in my hand but didn't ask about it.

He set down the coat and checked that Lucy was breathing steadily before turning to leave.

"Daniel," I called after him. "Did Ethan ever come back?"

He was silent for a moment.

"No. We had people stationed at the entrance until the road was closed."

My phone lit up. Ethan had finally sent me a message.

"Celeste is badly shaken. I need to get her and Milo settled first. You know more about emergency care than anyone, so Lucy will be fine with you. We'll talk later."

My stomach churned as I stared at those last three words.

An eight-year marriage. A son he had hidden from me. A fire that had nearly killed our daughter. To Ethan, all of it could still wait until later.

I walked to the end of the hallway and called the family lawyer a friend had recommended.

"My name is Nora Bennett." I heard the tremor in my own voice. "I want to file for divorce."

I paused and looked through the doorway at my daughter with the oxygen tube beneath her nose.

"And there's something else I need you to find out."

"I need to know exactly how many children my husband has."