That night, after he fell asleep, I made the most difficult decision of my life. I withdrew the majority of our shared savings — money I had worked decades to build. Within days, I secretly bought a small apartment in my name only. It wasn’t luxury. It was protection.
A few days later, something happened that changed everything.
I walked into our bedroom earlier than usual after work. My husband wasn’t supposed to be home yet. The door was half-closed. I pushed it open — and to my horror, I found my stepdaughter sitting on the bed, crying uncontrollably, while my husband stood beside her, shaken.
And then I heard the truth.
The youngest baby’s father was no mystery at all.
It was him.
My world collapsed in seconds.
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