Chapter 1

Ten years into our marriage, Carter was still the perfect husband in everyone's eyes.

He was young, handsome, and had built his company from the ground up with me a decade ago.

Now, he was one of New York's hottest rising stars in the tech world.

Right now, he was kneeling on the living room rug, patiently helping Noah assemble an elaborate slot car racing set.

"Daddy, look! This one's the fastest!" Noah beamed, his little face glowing with excitement as he giggled.

Carter ruffled Noah's hair with a warm smile.

"That's my boy. Once I wrap up this big project next week, I'll take you to Universal Studios. Deal?"

"Yay!"

Noah bounced up and down, too excited to stand still.

Watching them together filled my heart with warmth.

Then the private phone resting on the coffee table suddenly buzzed.

It was his second phone. It almost never rang.

He glanced at the screen, and something flickered across his eyes—so quickly most people would've missed it.

He locked the screen immediately and got to his feet.

"Gwen, something urgent just came up at work. I need to head into the office. Don't wait up for dinner."

"So suddenly?"

I handed him his jacket.

"Drive safely."

"I will."

He kissed my forehead, slipped into his coat, and hurried out the door.

"Take good care of Noah."

Silence settled over the house again.

Exhausted from playing, Noah curled up on the rug and slowly drifted off.

I carried him to the bathroom and ran a warm bath.

As I helped him get undressed, my fingers brushed against something inside his little pocket.

I pulled out a small metal hood emblem from an ultra-luxury sports car.

"Noah, where did you get this?"

I asked curiously.

Noah rubbed his sleepy eyes.

"The pretty lady gave it to me today when Daddy took me to buy race cars."

He yawned.

"Daddy called her 'Baby.' She even patted my head."

My hand froze.

"A pretty lady?"

I forced my voice to stay calm.

"Daddy took you to meet someone?"

"Uh-huh."

Noah yawned again.

"She lives in a really big house. Her tummy looked like she had a giant watermelon inside."

He blinked sleepily.

"Daddy even peeled an apple for her."

Cold water streamed over the back of my hand.

My blood ran cold.

Pregnant.

"Baby."

Peeling apples.

The man who barely noticed when I cut my finger slicing fruit had peeled an apple for another woman?

After putting Noah to bed, I walked into the study alone.

Carter was usually careful.

But tonight he'd left in such a rush that he'd forgotten his old laptop on the desk.

It was synced to his cloud account.

I sat down, my fingers trembling as I entered Noah's birthday.

The laptop unlocked.

The cloud gallery was filled with financial reports and project files.

Then I reached an encrypted folder at the very bottom.

I stopped breathing.

Dozens of photos filled the folder.

They had all been taken at a beachfront villa in the Hamptons.

In every picture, Carter held a young woman in her twenties close.

She wore a maternity dress, and his hand rested gently on her swollen belly.

Her baby bump was unmistakable.

She smiled with the carefree confidence of a woman who believed she was deeply loved.

One photo showed an ultrasound report.

Printed across the top were the words:

Victoria Foster — 16 Weeks Pregnant.

Victoria Foster.

The youngest daughter of the wealthy Foster family, one of New York's rising elite.

The timestamp matched the exact week Carter had told me he was away at an executive leadership retreat.

I stared at the face I'd loved for ten years.

It looked so familiar.

And suddenly, like a stranger's.

I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I didn't smash the computer.

I quietly took out my phone and photographed every single picture.

Every piece of evidence.

Soft little footsteps padded down the hallway.

Noah ran over barefoot, wrapped his arms around my leg, and rested his cheek against my knee.

"Mommy, why are you still awake?"

He looked up at me.

"Are you waiting for Daddy?"

I closed the laptop and pulled him into my arms.

He still smelled faintly of baby lotion, warm and comforting in my embrace.

"No."

I gently rubbed his back.

"I'm not waiting for him anymore."

I looked into my son's eyes, my own turning cold with resolve.

"From now on, it'll be just you and me. Okay?"

"Okay."

He snuggled closer.

"I love you the most, Mommy."

Holding my sweet little boy close, I slowly clenched my fists.

As I stroked Noah's hair, my other hand instinctively found the sapphire pendant that had hung around my neck since childhood.

It was the only thing I had when I was adopted from the orphanage.

The sapphire was extraordinarily rare. Even the world's top gem experts believed it had been custom-made centuries ago for one of Europe's old-money families.

Yet after all these years, it was still the only clue I had to who I really was.