On our wedding night, when Scott leaned in to kiss me, I turned away, too exhausted from the day. He smiled, understanding, and held me close. But sleep didn’t last long.
I woke in the middle of the night to the bed shaking. Turning over, I froze—Scott was kneeling beside the bed, cradling a baby. My heart pounded.
“Scott,” I whispered, bewildered. “Who is this?”
He looked away, struggling. “This is Ella,” he murmured. “My niece. My stepsister, Maya…she passed away recently.” His words were hesitant, leaving me with questions.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked, feeling the weight of this revelation on our wedding night.
Scott lowered his head, guilt on his face. “I was afraid, Everly. Afraid you’d leave if you knew.”
The rest of the night passed in silence. The next day, we brought Ella back to Scott’s estate, an unspoken decision made. I felt swept along, torn between love for Scott and the secrets he was keeping.
One evening, holding Ella, I pressed Scott about Maya and his reasons for raising her child. He gave a vague answer, dodging details about Ella’s father.
Frustrated, I later searched his study and found a photo—Scott with a pregnant woman, smiling proudly. It shattered everything he had told me.
When he got home, I confronted him with the photo. He paled as I asked, “She’s not your niece, is she? She’s your daughter.”
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