I Designed His Dream House, He Built a Secret Family

d tilted on its axis. Through the polished glass storefront, I saw him. My husband, Julian. He w

ionally scrolled past-was laughing, her head tilted just so. And between them, a little b

a family. A perfe

s trips, the late nights... were they spent with them? I recalled a night six months ago when Noah had supposedly been sick. Julian had st

pistol from their table, aimed it directly at me through the café's open front, and sque

y a flicker of amusement. She offered a saccharine smile. "Oh, dear. He's

to think. In the underground parking garage, I fumbled for my keys, my hands shaking. As I passed Julian's s

vited to the Christe

l. A physical invitation to a life I never

n't call a lawyer. I called the director of the Zurich Architectura

hip," I said, my voice eerily c

pte

ld me he was attending a "critical business dinner" there tonight. Another lie, another layer in the intricate web he had

shape of cartoon characters bobbed against the ceiling, and a massive cake d

ribs. And then I saw them. Julian stood by the cake, his arm draped possessiv

ing to celebrate our little man's fourth birthday," she announced, her voice carrying across the

aned in and kissed her, a long, lingering kis

hen it was Noah's turn, he swung the bat with wild abandon. But instead of hitting the piñata, he spun around, the bat swinging sideways

ff his blindfold, his eyes

cent stall. It was Seraphina, her voice low and conspiratorial. "That's right, sweetie. N

who could see past my ambition to the woman underneath. I remembered him staying by my hospital bed for three days straight when I h

believed was reserved onl

where are you?" His voice was warm,

out," I man

," he said smoothly. "It'

ackground noise. "Daddy, come quick! I do

ust... one of my colleague's kids. They're a han

t my phone again, my fingers moving on their own. I cal

, my voice a cold, steady li