Masse

a carefully curated image for his "beloved wife." They transformed me, painting on a mask of radiant happiness, fitting

p with what looked like genuine admiration. "My beautiful Cal

thumb stroking my knuckles. The touch felt alien, a violati

inside, a wave of applause erupted. Flashbulbs popped, painting the air in fleeting white. Friends, colleagues, po

ts whispered, clinking her champagne glass against mine. "Ch

ve. Adoration. They saw the facade. They drank the Kool-Aid. I saw th

part of the doting husband with perfection. He presented me with a small, velvet box. Inside, a dia

ike ash. I opened my mouth to speak, to

ing me. A child. A boy, perhaps three or four years old, with dark h

e ringing clearly through t

the air, a bell tolling the end of

nt of shock and speculation. My perfect, carefully constructed world, Chase' s p

e with pure, unadulterated terror. He tried to shush th

cticed distress. "Oh, Denver, honey, I told you to stay with the

ant Daddy!" He pointed a chubby finger at me, his eyes now filled w

ds, innocent but sharp as daggers, pierced through me. Ba

et I had bought Chase years ago, a silly, sentimental gift that now felt like a brand of

yet it cut through the room' s stunned silence. "Is this... is this your son?!" I reached out, my

ow, but with a pure, ugly rage. He lunged, not to prot

alance, falling with a sickening thud. My head hit the edge of a glass-topped table. The glass fractured with

't even glance at me. He was already cradling Dallas, his face

n't quite hide, was already at his side, her arm wrappe

me. Bleeding. Alone on the cold marble floor. As Hayden passed, her

fying than any I' d felt before. The whispers around me, once shocked, now

immering mess. I felt a warm gush beneath me. My beautiful gown, once pris

baby. Not

y eyes shut, a silent scream tearing through my soul. My bab

world we