Chapter 1The Thirty-Year Bluff

Thirty years into our childfree marriage, my husband’s twenty-eight-year-old illegitimate son showed up at our door.

It was the second year since the law granted illegitimate children legal inheritance rights. His purpose for coming was glaringly obvious.

I asked my husband what his plan was. His eyes darted around, and he stammered out excuses. First, he claimed we were getting older and needed someone to look after us. Second, he argued that the boy was, after all, his own flesh and blood.

Seeing that I remained stubbornly silent, he closed his eyes and played his trump card: "If you had a child out there, you could bring them home too, and they could inherit our assets in the future."

We had been together for thirty years, never spending more than a year apart. He was absolutely certain it was impossible for me to have a secret child.

But if he was going to put it like that, then I guess I didn't need to feel guilty anymore.

An illegitimate child?

Did he really think I didn't have any?

Not only did I have them, I had more than him!

* * *

When the young man showed up at my door claiming he was looking for his biological father, my brain short-circuited for a second. Then, naturally, I told him, "You have the wrong house."

My husband and I had agreed to be childfree before we even got married. How could we possibly have a child?

The polite smile remained plastered on the young man's face. His gaze bypassed me, landing squarely on something behind me. His voice rang out, laced with pleasant surprise: "Uncle Thomas... No, Dad—"

Dad?

I followed his gaze, turning around stiffly, and saw my husband, Thomas Sterling, standing in the living room, watching us.

He looked back at us, his face a complex mix of guilt he couldn't hide. His eyes darted nervously, refusing to meet mine.

A bone-chilling cold spread through my entire body. In that moment, what else was there to understand?

The three of us sat on the living room sofa. Thomas and the young man exchanged glances multiple times, communicating silently through the air.

They were clearly already very familiar with each other. They must have met privately plenty of times. I was the only stranger in the room.

I remained silent. Thirty years of marriage. A husband who insisted on a childfree life before we even tied the knot now had a twenty-eight-year-old illegitimate son. I didn't know what expression to wear or how to even begin processing my emotions.

We were both nearing sixty, having just retired from our jobs, holding onto the life savings we had worked so hard for decades to accumulate.

And this was the second year since the law had officially granted illegitimate children legal inheritance rights. The young man's intention in showing up now was crystal clear.