Chapter 4The Thirty-Year Bluff

Three days.

Thomas only managed to play the part of the apologetic, submissive husband for three days.

After that, he brazenly started contacting Liam right in front of me. Voice memos, FaceTimes, phone calls—the once quiet living room was now constantly filled with their laughter.

Over the past two days, Thomas even suggested changing Liam's last name to Sterling.

I ignored him, coldly watching his smug display.

Scum are excellent at camouflaging themselves, often hiding for long periods. But someone like Thomas, who could keep up the act for thirty years? That was truly rare.

I was nearing sixty. The drive I had in my youth had long since faded. I lacked the courage to start over completely.

Moreover, the assets Thomas and I had built up over our youth were mostly liquidated and tied up in investments. Stripping him of everything wouldn't be easy.

My passive attitude made Thomas believe that bringing Liam into the family was a done deal. After all, the fact that Liam was his biological son was undeniable, recognized even by law.

I was too exhausted to look at Thomas's face anymore. I decided to take a trip with my best friend, Chloe, for a few days to clear my head.

Thomas considerately packed my luggage for me. Before I left, he chuckled and offered some advice: "Stella, at our age, there are many things we're powerless to change. The best approach is just to let it go."

Chloe took my suitcase from his hands, smiling even brighter than him: "Thomas, it's exactly because of that attitude of yours that Stella and I never have to worry when we go out and have fun."

Thomas didn't catch Chloe's underlying sarcasm. He assumed I hadn't told her about his illegitimate son and thought she was complimenting him.

The car door closed, and Thomas's figure gradually shrank in the rearview mirror. I turned to Chloe and asked, "Are the kids back?"

Chloe nodded. "They all got back last night. They're waiting for you at home right now."

I didn't say anything else, wearily pinching the bridge of my nose. My left hand, resting by my side, was suddenly enveloped in a warm grasp. I looked down. Chloe was only a year younger than me, but the wrinkles on the back of her hand were just as pronounced as mine.

I sighed silently and gently squeezed her hand back.