Chapter 2His Secret Son Lives Downstairs

When I returned to my father’s penthouse, George must have gotten a frantic call from the woman downstairs.

He had visibly relaxed.

Since I hadn't made a scene, he clearly assumed his affair was still safely hidden.

Just as foolish as I used to be.

Using a vague excuse—that my father wanted to see Ruby for a few days—I bundled my daughter up and we left.

George didn’t suspect a thing. He walked us to the car downstairs, playing the part of the devoted father perfectly.

But I still noticed it.

After seeing us off, the elevator stopped on the second floor.

Her apartment.

“Mommy.”

Ruby leaned her soft cheek against mine, confused.

“Why did the elevator stop on the second floor? We live on the third floor.”

I smiled faintly, touching my forehead to her hair, my voice colder than the winter air.

“Because Daddy is going to do something bad. And soon, we won’t need this home anymore.”

That evening, after I’d tucked Ruby into bed, my father called me into his study.

His tone was heavy, laced with the heartache of knowing his daughter had been betrayed.

“I told you the minute I met George that he wasn’t worth it. But you were stubborn and insisted on marrying beneath you.”

“Look at the mess he’s made.”

I pursed my lips, picking up the folder on the desk and opening it.

One hundred twenty pages. Every page was irrefutable evidence of George’s infidelity.

2021. The night before our wedding.

While I was in the bridal suite, chatting with my maid of honor, sleepless with excitement for my life with George, he was in a dive bar, meeting a bottle service girl named Brooke. They were “in love at first sight.”

From meeting to sleeping together, it took them two hours.

He couldn't even wait for our wedding night to pass.

2022. I was pregnant.

I was throwing up constantly from morning sickness, unable to keep anything down.

George, claiming to be at a mandatory corporate training seminar, was across town at an OB/GYN, accompanying that girl to her prenatal appointments.

2023. Our daughter’s first birthday.

We threw a huge party. George gave her a pair of miniature gold bangles, symbols of luck and safety.

Now, the lab report in the file explicitly stated: Gold plated. Silver core.

Another lie.

And then 2024, 2025, 2026…

A huge, frigid void opened up in my chest.

It wasn’t just the shock of George cheating. It was the realization that he didn’t even love our daughter.

Yet, when she was born, George was the one who personally named her Ruby—meaning precious gem.

Trembling, I closed the file.

My phone vibrated—a notification from our home security app.

I had secretly activated the apartment camera before leaving.

On the video feed, the Christmas dinner I had spent all day preparing was still steaming on the table.

My father-in-law sat at the head of the table, nervously pulling out the huge gift card he had prepared, slipping it into Brooke’s son’s hand.

“Happy Holidays, my good boy.”

George had his arm around Brooke, and they were feeding each other, a disgustingly intimate picture of domestic bliss.

Suddenly, Brooke glanced at her son, who was absorbed in counting his money, and spoke:

“George, my mom is nagging me again to bring you home. She doesn’t know about us. I can’t hide it much longer.”

“Since your wife is at her parents’ place, why don’t you host my family for a holiday dinner tomorrow?”

“It would stop my relatives from whispering that Cody is… a bastard.”

George frowned, hesitating.

He finally picked up his phone and sent me a text.

Honey, how long are you staying with your dad?

Should I bring you some toiletries?

My phone screen was split.

One side showed my husband and his mistress planning their faux family dinner.

The other showed George’s pathetic attempt at a check-in.

I didn’t hesitate. I tapped out a response:

No need. Dad and I are heading to our summer house tomorrow to see some extended family. Won't be back for a few days.

The message was sent. The next second, I got his reply.

Okay, sweetie. You enjoy your time with your dad. Don't worry about things here.

Tell Ruby her daddy loves her.

In the concurrent camera feed, George leaned in and gave Brooke a hard, satisfying kiss on the cheek.

“Fine. Dinner tomorrow, then!”

Brooke smiled. I smiled, too.

A holiday dinner, you say?

If George was hosting, it wouldn’t be so strange for his lawful wife to attend, would it?