My Wife's Secret Family

Before tossing my wife's jacket in the wash, I checked the pockets and found a bill for maintenance fees. The address was for the apartment directly above ours. My wife, Teresa Payne, was listed as the owner. I stood there gripping the bill, my fingers going cold. For the past six months, she always seemed to be working late, often not coming home until well after dark. More than once, I noticed her car in the garage long after she left for work. Whenever I asked, she would say, "Gas is so expensive now. It's easier to just take the subway. Besides, it saves us a little money." I actually appreciated her watching our spending. Now, it all made sense. On those nights she claimed to be working late, she was right upstairs. A key turned in the front door. Teresa was home. She spotted the bill in my hand and casually plucked it from my fingers. "Oh, they must've put that in the wrong mailbox." I nodded and gave her a smile. "No big deal. I'm gonna take the trash out." Once I was out the door, I went straight upstairs and knocked. A guy a few years younger than me answered, holding a child. Chapter 1 I froze at the sight of the baby in the man's arms. It couldn't have been more than a few months old. Teresa Payne always said we should wait a few more years to have kids, at least until her career was on firmer ground. Yet here was her baby with another man. That explained the sudden business trip a year ago, the one that kept her away for months. She had gone away to have his baby. "Hey. Can I help you?" The guy leaned around the door in a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, looking puzzled. "Hey, I live downstairs." I kept my voice steady and even managed a friendly smile. "Sorry to bother you, but my cat got out. I think he climbed up onto your balcony railing. Mind if I come in and take a look?" It was a lousy excuse. We didn't even have a cat. But the man just smiled and stepped aside. "Oh, hey, neighbor. Yeah, come on in. Cats can get just about anywhere, huh? Let's find him before he takes off." "Thanks." I stepped onto a soft wool rug; it was the same brand as ours, just a lighter shade. The apartment had the same layout as ours, with a clear view from the entryway. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a faint woody scent hung in the air. Every detail reflected the care someone took to make this a comfortable home. I scanned the room until an oil painting on the living room wall stopped me cold. Whispers of the Stars. The artist wasn't well known, but when Teresa and I saw it at a gallery six months ago, I fell in love with it. Back then, Teresa put an arm around my shoulders and gave me an apologetic squeeze. "Oh, Frank, I'm sorry. Someone already reserved it. The gallery won't say who, but apparently, they offered a fortune." She even spent weeks asking around to make it up to me, only to tell me the artist no longer painted. It was a one-of-a-kind piece. There wouldn't be another. Yet here it was, hanging on someone else's wall. "You like the painting?" He walked over with a glass of water and followed my gaze, his face brightening. "My wife gave me that. It's called Whispers of the Stars. She said it means there's always someone looking out for you, like the stars overhead." He lingered over the title, his voice softening as he said it. I took the glass, my cold fingers closing around its smooth surface. My voice came out rough. "Your wife sounds thoughtful." "Yeah, she is." He grinned and settled onto the couch. "She really looks out for me. By the way, I'm Anthony Holmes. What's your name?" "Frank Marshall." I gave him my name, but my gaze kept drifting toward the nursery beside the balcony. Through the half-open door, I could see a room with everything a baby could need. Anthony followed my gaze. "You think your cat's in there? I'll take a look." He started to get up. "It's alright. I've got it. Stay there." I moved toward the nursery before he could get up. An elegant ivory crib stood in the middle of the room. I recognized it immediately. When Teresa and I first talked about having kids, I spent hours researching furniture for the nursery. That exact model was still in my online shopping cart. I wanted our baby to have the best, and I planned to buy it when the time came. When I showed it to Teresa, she frowned. "Frank, six grand dollars for a crib? That's ridiculous. Sure, it's beautiful, but our baby would outgrow it in no time. We can get a nice wooden crib for a fraction of that." Chapter 2 Teresa and I argued about it, but I eventually let it go. Now, the same crib she dismissed as a waste of money sat in the home she shared with another man. A digital photo frame on the nightstand beside it cycled through pictures. One showed the two of them at a ski resort. Teresa wore a bright red ski suit and hugged Anthony from behind. He wore similar gear. They leaned their heads together, grinning at the camera against a backdrop of snowy mountains. The date on the photo was just a month ago. Teresa told me that trip was for a weeklong finance conference in Ivoryn. She claimed her schedule was so packed that she couldn't even squeeze in a video call. And I bought it. I worried about her and texted every day, telling her to get some rest and make time to eat. So that was her finance conference. A romantic ski trip with another man. "Find him?" Anthony called from the living room. His voice snapped me out of it. My chest tightened until I could barely draw a breath. "No." I gripped the doorframe until I trusted myself to speak again. "Guess I was wrong. He's probably back downstairs by now. Sorry to bother you." I hurried out of the nursery. I couldn't stand to look at another thing in there. "No problem. So, are you married? My wife works in finance. If yours is in the same line of work, maybe they know each other." Anthony chatted away, completely at ease. There was something almost boyishly innocent about his expression that made the whole situation even more absurd. "My wife works in finance, too," I said. "Small world." She certainly knew how to make a good investment. With my money, she got herself a second home, a second husband, and a whole new family. I practically ran out of the apartment. When I got downstairs, Teresa was stretched out on our couch, watching the financial news. "Take the trash out?" she asked without looking up. "Yeah." I sat beside her while the anchor talked through the latest stock market trends. Her familiar woody perfume drifted toward me. I always associated that scent with her. Now, it made my stomach turn. "Teresa." I kept my voice low. "Remember that crib we talked about? I saw it online again today. Looks like it's on sale. Why don't we get it? It's still the one I want." She finally looked away from the TV and rested her hand on my arm. Her voice was gentle, but her tone left no room for argument. "Honey, we already talked about this. There's no point spending that much on something we'll barely use. We need to be smart with our money." I tried again. "What about that painting, Whispers of the Stars? Remember that?" Chapter 3 Teresa's eyes flickered with suspicion, but she quickly recovered. "Of course, I remember. You loved that painting. What made you think of it?" "No reason. Just seems like a shame." I held her gaze. "I really wish we could've bought it." "Oh, honey, let it go." She smiled and leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Honey, some serious collector probably bought that painting ages ago. We can't compete with that kind of money. Anyway, a friend of mine is throwing a company cocktail party in a few days. Come with me. I'd love for you to meet a few people." She still thought I was the husband who never told her no and did whatever it took to help her get ahead. I closed my eyes and nodded, a cold weight settling in my chest. I no longer knew how much of our life together was a lie. For the next few days, I kept up our usual routine. I made breakfast, helped her get ready for work, and pulled her into my arms before she left. I needed evidence. The apartment upstairs was only the beginning, and I needed to find out how far the deception went. I made a good living as a concept designer, with a studio and a brand of my own. When Teresa and I got together, she was just starting out as a financial advisor. The prize money from my first major design award helped her start the investment firm she eventually named Payne Capital. Over the years, my studio brought in substantial money. After setting aside enough for our living expenses, I gave Teresa most of what remained to manage through what she called our "family investments." I trusted her completely. Not once did I ask to see the accounts, an oversight that now made me feel like an idiot. I told Teresa I needed the transaction records for our joint account to help prepare my studio's annual taxes. She didn't question it. The next day, her assistant dropped off a thick stack of documents. I shut myself in the study and worked through them page by page. It didn't take long to spot something. For the past six months, 40 thousand dollars went out of our account every month to the same recipient: Gary Holmes. I stared at the name. Anthony Holmes. Gary Holmes. I was almost certain Gary was Anthony's father or an older relative. Forty grand a month was a staggering amount, whether Teresa was supporting him or paying for his silence. My hands began to shake as I dug further. Near the end of last year, a single payment of 1.5 million dollars left our account. The transaction description read: Commercial Property Purchase, Lakeside Estates. I remembered that investment. Teresa told me she found a commercial property that could shoot up in value, then talked me into putting most of my studio's available cash into it. She even showed me a scanned copy of the deed. Both our names appeared on it as owners. The bank records told a different story. The 1.5 million dollars never went to a real estate company. It went to an offshore company registered in the Carradine Islands. I called my friend Joel Johnson, an attorney, and asked him to look into Lakeside Estates. I also asked him to check who owned Payne Capital and find whatever he could on Gary. Joel worked fast. Half a day later, he called back. "Frank, that property isn't in either of your names. A company owns it, and it's not one I recognize. "Something's off with Payne Capital, too. Teresa's listed as an authorized representative, but she only owns 10%. An overseas parent company owns the other 90%, and the person who actually controls it is her father's secretary. "As for Gary Holmes..." Joel paused, his voice turning cautious. "He's Anthony's father. I checked out Anthony, too. Besides the apartment above yours, he's got two cars in his name. A Porsche 911 and a Range Rover." Chapter 4 I hung up and sat there, cold all over. The whole thing was a setup, right from the start. All Teresa's talk about building a business together, about being partners in every sense of the word, was a lie. She used my money to put her lover in the apartment upstairs, buy him luxury cars, and funnel 1.5 million dollars into a shell company her family controlled. The assets I thought we owned together belonged to her and her family. Little by little, she took everything while I trusted her enough not to notice. Anger surged through me, along with the sickening weight of her betrayal. Still, I forced myself to stay calm. Losing control now wouldn't help me. I thought of Teresa's parents, with their polished manners and impeccable clothes. They never missed a chance to tell me how glad they were to have me as a son-in-law. They praised me for being a good husband, for working hard, and for everything I had done to help Teresa get ahead. I began to wonder whether they were in on it. The more I thought about it, the worse the possibility seemed. The next day, I bought a selection of expensive health supplements and drove to the Payne family estate. Their longtime housekeeper opened the door and greeted me with a warm smile. "Frank! What a lovely surprise. Mrs. Payne is having coffee in the garden." I crossed the living room and headed out back. Teresa's mother, Monica Payne, sat in a wicker chair, laughing with someone across from her. A few steps closer, I recognized him. Anthony. Monica cradled the baby, smiling down at her with obvious affection. "You're taking such good care of my granddaughter, Anthony. It must be a lot of work." "Teresa deserves some credit. She bought everything we needed for the baby. That's been a big help." He gave her a modest smile, clearly eager to earn her approval. I stopped where I was, my hands and feet going cold. This was the family they welcomed. I was Teresa's husband, and somehow I was the one who didn't belong. Monica glanced up and saw me. Her smile faltered, but only for a moment before she waved me over. "Frank! Come sit down. Have you met Anthony? His grandfather served with Teresa's father. He's staying nearby while he recovers from an illness, so I asked him over for a little company." The lie came so easily. Anthony stood, his jaw tightening as he recognized me. For a moment, he looked rattled. "Hi, Frank." I walked over and dropped the bag of supplements onto the patio table. "Where's Grant?" "In his study." Monica poured me some coffee as if nothing was wrong. "What brings you by? I thought you'd be at work." I ignored the coffee and stared at Anthony before turning back to her. "Your daughter has a kid with another man, and you're sitting here having coffee with him. I'd say we have a few things to talk about."