chapter2

At the breakfast table, Sebastian wore his favorite charcoal gray suit, flipping through the financial newspaper. He looked no different from a thousand other mornings.

"Sleep well last night?" He didn't even look up.

My fingers tightened on the coffee cup handle. "Fine. Did the gallery opening go smoothly?"

"Very. Lilith's in much better spirits." He folded the paper, finally glancing at me, his gaze as calm as if discussing the weather. "You look a bit pale today. Didn't rest well?"

Look at that, he was still playing the considerate husband.

"Maybe caught a slight chill." I forced myself to pull out a smile. God knows if my face had already frozen into a mask.

"Take care of yourself, darling." He stood, leaning down to press a habitual kiss on my forehead. The scent of his cologne made my stomach spasm. "See you tonight, dear."

The door closed. I rushed to the kitchen sink and dry heaved violently until I spat bitter water.

"Hold it together, Elara," I whispered to myself. "You can't fall apart now."

Two hours later, I sat in the deepest corner of an inconspicuous downtown café.

Meredith strode in, tossed her briefcase onto the seat beside her, her sharp eyes immediately scanning my pale, taut face.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." She sat down, voice low but direct. "Talk. Start with the worst part."

I took a deep breath that scraped my throat like a blade.

I pulled out my phone from my purse, opened the photo of the children's crayon drawing I'd taken last night, and pushed it toward her.

Meredith picked up the phone, squinting. Her expression shifted from confusion to shock, finally freezing into cold fury.

"Jesus," she murmured, "the date is from last year? He has another woman? Or rather..."

"And a child." My voice sounded dry and strange. "A child who's existed for at least a year. He calls him 'Daddy Seb.'"

"And this." I pulled up the comparison screenshots I'd hastily taken last night—Lilith's Instagram story and my grandmother's ring. Though blurry, the gem's cut was unmistakable. "This is my grandmother's ring. Sebastian said he lost it."

Meredith stared at the screen, her jawline tightening.

She pulled out her tablet, fingers swiping rapidly across the screen.

"Lilith Vance. Twenty-eight, self-proclaimed independent curator, hired three months ago to run a small gallery Sebastian's company acquired. She lives at River Tower, where the penthouse apartments are outrageously expensive. On her gallery's income, she couldn't possibly afford it."

"Who's paying?" I asked, my heart beating heavily.

"Give me ten minutes." Meredith took her phone to the window, making several brief calls.

Her voice was low, but I caught phrases like "property trace" and "offshore entity." When she returned, her face wore the expression of a hunter who'd found a trail.

"The apartment isn't Lilith's. It's owned by an overseas-registered company, and after following the trail, the person with final signing authority to pay..." She paused, looking me straight in the eye, "is your husband Sebastian's lawyer."

My stomach churned. So he wasn't just cheating. He was using our joint assets to support another woman and her child.

"I need more," I said, the tremor in my voice suppressed by a cold determination that surprised even me. "I need undeniable evidence."

"What are you planning to do?" Meredith asked.

"He has an old iPad he never leaves behind, says it contains 'precious memories' from the company's startup days. The password..." my throat tightened, "the password is still my birthday."

Meredith raised an eyebrow. "A smart woman wouldn't check that iPad, Elara. That's too obvious."

"A heartbroken wife might." I corrected her, nails digging into my palm. "A foolish woman desperate to cling to one last illusion, checking if he still kept our old photos."

Meredith looked at me for several seconds, then slowly nodded.

The plan formed in my mind, cold and clear. "After he's asleep. Only one chance."

That evening, I listened to Sebastian typing in his study, the sound like a death knell.

After midnight, the sounds stopped. I waited until his heavy breathing in the bedroom became regular before slipping out of bed like a shadow.

The study still held the scent of his cologne. That silver iPad sat in the center of the desk, like a mockery. I picked it up. The screen lit up, prompting for a password.

I pressed my birthday numbers.

The home screen unlocked instantly, and a sharp grief pierced through me.

He was too lazy to even change the password. In his mind, I didn't even warrant precaution.

I quickly connected an external hard drive and began backing up the entire cloud storage. The progress bar crawled slowly, each second feeling like a year.

Then I found an encrypted folder in the files, simply named "LV."

I tried my birthday. Wrong. Tried his birthday. Wrong.

On impulse, I entered the date I'd seen last night, from last June.

The folder opened.

Inside were photos. Many, many photos.

Sebastian and Lilith, holding hands with a three or four-year-old boy with dark curly hair.

They were decorating a Christmas tree, gifts piled beneath.

They were on a sunny beach, the little boy sitting on Sebastian's shoulders laughing.

They were at a ski resort, all three with rosy cheeks from the cold, smiling brilliantly.

Timestamps clearly marked: Christmas two years ago, last summer, last Christmas, this spring...

They were a family. A family that had existed for at least three years, spending all important holidays together.

Then I found a PDF file. The title read "L.V. Trust Draft." The beneficiary was anonymized as "L. Vance," with generous terms sufficient to ensure a child's comfortable life forever.

The document's creator and last modifier were both Sebastian.

I felt dizzy and had to grip the desk edge. Cold sweat soaked my back.

Then I saw the emails.

Correspondence between Sebastian and my parents. The subject concerned "Family Foundation's Regular Support for Wells Gallery."

In the email, my mother Eleanor Sterling wrote: "...We understand your situation, Sebastian. Family reputation and stability come first. The money will be sent monthly to ensure Lilith and the child are settled. Just make sure Elara doesn't know and stays in her place, and everything will be fine."

The date: two and a half years ago.

The world collapsed beneath my feet with a roar.

I stared at those lines, each letter burning into my retinas like a hot brand.

Understand your situation. The child needs a stable environment.

My own parents. They knew. They'd always known. They used my family's money to fund my husband's other family, while requiring me to "stay in my place"?

The world completely collapsed. Even the last foundation I could lean on crumbled to dust.

I opened my mouth but couldn't make a sound. Only scalding tears poured out madly.

I copied everything. Then I wiped the tears and screen, putting the iPad back in place.

I walked back to the living room, sitting in dead silence.

So for five years, I'd lived in a joke everyone knew about except me. Husband, parents—they'd all maintained this cruel hoax aimed at me.