Introduction

The sweet scent of vanilla filled our kitchen, a fragile peace before the storm of Lily' s fifth birthday.

Then, my husband Mark's phone buzzed with the name "Scarlett," shattering any illusion of our perfect life.

Later, I found receipts for a diamond necklace and private school tuition-all for Scarlett' s daughter, not our own.

My husband stood by, watching as his mistress' s daughter, Daisy, taunted Lily, proudly displaying gifts from her "Daddy."

That night, a news alert flashed across my phone: "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."

He walked in at 2 a.m., oblivious to the wreckage he' d left in his wake.

"How was your party, Mark?" I asked, holding up the damning picture.

He denied nothing, offering flimsy excuses about "responsibility" and "old times' sake."

But when I found out he was paying for Daisy' s schooling, my control snapped.

"What do you want, Ava? A divorce?" he challenged.

"Yes," I said, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.

He panicked, pleading for a second chance, weaving a tale of blackmail.

"Prove it," I told him, demanding a postnup: if he strayed again, I' d take everything.

He signed, thinking he' d bought my silence.

But at his company picnic, Scarlett and Daisy appeared, Mark' s secret family in plain sight.

He spoke French to Daisy, a warmth he never showed Lily, making our daughter an outsider.

"It is incredibly rude to speak in a language you assume others don\'t understand, Scarlett. Especially when you are telling your daughter to boast about things a married man supposedly did with you," I said in flawless French, exposing their cruel charade.

His anger, however, was for me and our crying daughter.

"You\'re making a scene!" he hissed. "And Lily, for God\'s sake, stop crying. It\'s embarrassing."

That was the end. I walked away, Lily' s hand in mine, knowing he had made his choice.