Chapter 1

The smell of vanilla and sugar filled our kitchen, a sweet cloud that failed to mask the tension in the air. Tomorrow was Lily' s fifth birthday, and I was determined to make it perfect. I piped blue frosting onto a cupcake, my hand steady despite the unease knotting in my stomach. Lily sat at the kitchen island, her small legs swinging, meticulously drawing a picture of our family. Me, her, and her father, Mark.

"Mommy, do you think Daddy will be home in time to see my drawing?" she asked, her voice small.

"Of course, sweetie. He wouldn't miss your birthday for the world," I said, forcing a smile. It was a lie, and we both knew it.

Mark, my husband, the brilliant tech mogul, was rarely home for anything anymore.

His phone buzzed on the counter. The screen lit up with a name I had come to dread: Scarlett.

I ignored it, focusing on the cupcakes. A moment later, my own phone rang. It was Mark.

"Ava," he said, his voice distant and rushed, "I'm swamped. Something's come up with the European launch. I might not make it back tonight."

"Mark, it's Lily's birthday tomorrow. You promised."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. Just... make it a great day for her, okay? Spare no expense." He always said that, as if money could replace his presence. "Listen, I have to go. Scarlett is having an issue with her new platform launch, and I need to help her team troubleshoot."

Before I could protest, he hung up. The dial tone felt like a slap. He couldn't make it for his own daughter's birthday, but he had time to fix problems for Scarlett.

Later that evening, while cleaning Mark's study, a room he barely used anymore, I found a receipt carelessly tossed on his desk. It was from a high-end jewelry store. A diamond necklace, purchased just yesterday. My heart sank. It wasn't for me. Underneath it was another receipt, a wire transfer confirmation for the full year's tuition at Northwood Preparatory, the most exclusive private school in the state. Lily went to a wonderful local preschool. This wasn't for her.

The recipient of the funds was listed as "S. Vance." Scarlett Vance.

My breath caught in my throat. He was paying for her daughter's school. He was buying her diamonds. A cold certainty washed over me. The balance of our marriage, already precarious, was now completely gone. This wasn' t just a flirtation with an old flame, it was a parallel life.

The next day, Lily's birthday party was a hollow affair. Our backyard was filled with colorful balloons and laughing children, but the guest of honor, her father, was absent. Lily kept glancing at the gate, her hopeful expression slowly fading with each passing hour.

Around cake time, my phone rang again. It was Mark, video calling. Lily's face lit up.

"Daddy!" she squealed, running over.

I answered, and Mark's face appeared, smiling. But he wasn't alone. A beautiful woman with sharp, calculating eyes was beside him. Scarlett. And on her lap sat a little girl with Mark's dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Daisy.

"Happy birthday, Lily," Mark said, his smile looking strained. "Sorry I couldn't be there."

"It's okay, Daddy," Lily whispered, her eyes fixed on the other little girl.

"Daisy wanted to say hi," Scarlett cooed, pushing her daughter forward. "Say hi to Lily, sweetie."

Daisy, who looked a year or two older than Lily, smirked into the camera. She held up a brand-new, expensive-looking doll. "My daddy got me this," she said, her voice dripping with a childish cruelty. "He said he' s taking me to Disneyland next week. Are you going to Disneyland for your birthday?"

Lily' s eyes welled up with tears. She didn' t understand the adult complexities, but she understood the taunt. She understood that her father was with another little girl on her birthday. She shook her head, unable to speak.

"Daisy, be nice," Mark said weakly, but he was looking at Scarlett, not at the screen, not at his own heartbroken daughter.

I ended the call, my hand shaking with rage. I pulled Lily into my arms, holding her tight as she sobbed. I whispered reassurances I didn't feel, my own pain a heavy weight in my chest. Her special day was ruined.

Later, a courier delivered Mark' s gift. It was the diamond necklace from the receipt. It was beautiful, expensive, and utterly meaningless. It wasn't the set of professional-grade art supplies Lily had circled in a catalog for months, the one she had taped to the fridge as a hint. It was a gift for a wife, not a daughter. A generic apology bought with money. It was an insult.

That night, after I finally got a tear-exhausted Lily to sleep, I sat alone in the dark living room. My phone buzzed with a news alert. I clicked on it. The headline was from a popular gossip blog: "Tech Mogul Mark Davis Rekindles Romance with Childhood Sweetheart Scarlett Vance? Seen on a Cozy Family Outing with Vance and Her Look-alike Daughter, Daisy."

The article featured a gallery of photos. Mark, Scarlett, and Daisy at a sunny outdoor cafe. Mark was smiling, genuinely smiling, as he spoon-fed Daisy a bite of ice cream. He looked happier than I had seen him in years. He looked like a father. Just not Lily's.

The evidence was undeniable, the betrayal public.

The front door clicked open around 2 a.m. Mark walked in, looking tired but pleased with himself. He didn't seem to notice the oppressive silence in the house, or the way I was sitting in the dark, my face stained with dried tears.

"Hey," he said casually, loosening his tie. "Long day. How was the party?"

I stood up, the cold fury I had been suppressing all night finally boiling over. I held up my phone, the picture of him with his other family glowing in the darkness.

"You tell me," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "How was your party, Mark?"

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