Chapter 3 - The Question No Mother Wants to HearCallum had arranged a car to take us home. Rain moved in silver lines across the windows while Willa rested against my side. She fell asleep before we crossed the Francis Scott Key Bridge, still holding the paper medal against her chest.
I remembered the evening Everett proposed. We had been sitting on the floor of my first apartment because the small kitchen table had collapsed while we were assembling it. Everett had laughed, taken both of my hands, and promised that he wanted no fortune from me. “I don’t need an impressive life, Laurel. I only want an honest one with you.”
At the time, I had believed him without hesitation. Perhaps love was not blindness. Perhaps love was the decision to keep seeing the best version of someone, even after that version no longer existed.
When we reached our home in Roland Park, I carried Willa upstairs. As I placed her beneath the blankets, she opened her eyes. “Mommy?” “I’m right here.” “Does Daddy still live here?”
I sat beside her and brushed damp hair from her forehead. “I don’t know yet.”
She stared at the ceiling. “Can he still love me if he already has another child?”
The question left an empty space inside me. “Of course he can. Love does not disappear because there is more than one child.”
Her eyes filled with confusion. “Then why does everything feel bad?”
I had no answer gentle enough for a six-year-old. I kissed her forehead and remained beside her until she fell asleep again.
Downstairs, messages from Callum continued arriving. Everett’s board had delayed an expansion agreement. Two banks had begun reviewing the company’s financial guarantees. The directors had scheduled an emergency meeting for the following morning.
Callum asked whether I wanted our family office to release a statement. I replied with only one sentence: No public statement unless absolutely necessary. Willa comes first.
His answer arrived immediately: She always will.
Then another message appeared: There is more you need to see.
May you like
He sent me a collection of financial records. Monthly housing payments. School tuition. Insurance expenses. Medical invoices. A rental agreement connected to one of Everett’s smaller holding companies.
The payments had been made on behalf of Celeste Rowe and her son, Camden Rowe, for nearly three years. There was no marriage record attached. No legal explanation. Only proof that my husband had maintained a second household without ever telling me.
