Chapter 1 THE HIDDEN TRUTH

*Elizabeth Blackwood's POV*

I hummed softly as I cleaned James's study, running the dust cloth over the mahogany shelves and polished desk. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, and I smiled, thinking about my husband coming home in a few hours.

Life was good. We'd been married just over a year, and our baby girl Helen was sleeping peacefully in her nursery down the hall. Six months old, with James's dark hair and my eyes-she was perfect.

As I wiped down the desk, my cloth caught on something. The locked drawer on the right side-the one James always kept secured-was slightly ajar.

I hesitated, my hand hovering over it. James kept business documents in there. But if the lock had come loose, I should close it properly.

I pulled the drawer open just enough to push it shut, and that's when I saw it.

A hidden envelope. Manila, thick with contents, tucked beneath a stack of folders.

Curiosity flickered through me. Maybe old family photos? James rarely talked about his past.

I glanced toward the door, then pulled out the envelope.

Inside were photographs.

The first one showed James holding a baby boy-maybe six or seven months old, with dark hair and bright eyes. James's face radiated pure joy, a smile I recognized well.

I smiled, confused. "A nephew he never mentioned?"

Then I saw the second photograph, and my smile died.

James stood beside a beautiful young woman with long dark hair, maybe in her mid-twenties. They stood close together, the baby boy held between them. She had her hand on his arm. His arm was around her waist.

They looked like a family.

My hands began to tremble.

I flipped through more photos, my heart pounding. James feeding the baby. The woman laughing beside him. The three of them at a park, sitting together on a blanket.

In every photo, they looked happy. Together. Intimate.

"No," I whispered, my chest tightening. "No, please..."

I turned the photos over with shaking hands.

Dates. Stamped on the back of each one.

My vision blurred as I read them. Four months ago. Six weeks ago. Two weeks ago.

All during my pregnancy with Helen. All while I'd been at home, believing my husband was working late, traveling for business, building our future.

"He has another family," I breathed, the words scraping from my throat. "He has a son."

The photographs slipped from my numb fingers, scattering across the desk. I gripped the edge to keep from falling, my whole body shaking.

My heart shattered in my chest. Every piece of trust, every moment of love-all of it crumbling to dust.

"How could you?" I whispered to the empty room, tears streaming down my face. "How could you do this to us?"

I pressed my hand against my chest, struggling to breathe through the pain. The man I loved, the father of my child, had been living a double life.

Had any of it been real? Our wedding vows? Our dreams for the future? The tears he'd shed when Helen was born?

All lies.

I stumbled from the study, my vision blurred with tears, and made my way to the nursery.

Helen lay sleeping peacefully in her crib, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. She was perfect. Innocent. Completely unaware that her father had destroyed everything.

I stared down at my daughter, and something fierce and protective rose inside me.

She would not grow up knowing this pain. She would not grow up with a father who lived lies, who kept secrets, who built families in the shadows.

I would protect her. Even if it meant tearing apart everything I'd believed in.

"I won't let him destroy us," I whispered, my voice breaking but determined. My hands gripped the edge of the crib, knuckles white.

I looked at my sleeping daughter one more time, tears falling onto the soft yellow blanket.

"We're leaving tonight."