ow long I' d been marr

wife to the perfect husband, the

ll built

r. My high school sweetheart, Ryan Scott, stood up in front of

r. My father, the tough, self-made oil tycoon, had a massive heart

nt shattered my world, leaving a trauma so deep I though

en Matthew

re, quietly in the background. In my darkest hour, he offered

rs, he gave me a life that looked perfect from the outside. He

as healing. I thought I had fou

ng. His parents were ecstatic. I was finally giving them the gran

everything fe

ly glued to his side, was on the nightstand

icked it up. I should

er yet?" Nicole

ted pounding.

ot yet. The timing isn' t right. Let her enjoy

lungs. "It' s my pregnancy too, Matt. My b

nightmare. They talked about a recent surgery I had, a "c

rom Matthew' s sper

me wasn' t min

muffled thud. The sound of the shower was a distant roar. My p

delivered a betrayal far mor

and, my movements stiff and robotic. I slid back under the covers and closed my

hroom, smelling of expensive soa

, my love,"

e, perfectly still, listening to his eve

to run from. I waited for what felt like an etern

t to his study, my bare feet cold on the hardwood floor. My heart hammered against my ribs as I

was a bi

al graveyard of my marriage. Folder after folder of

e Hampton

ing, kissing, living a whole other life behind my back. The

t folder. It was lab

inic in Beverly Hills. They were holding up a sonogram picture, their fac

just two days before my

t a recent affair. This was a long-term, calculated deception.

ing at my silk nightgown, but I didn't feel it. A cold, hard resolve began to f

me into an incubator for his and another woman's chil

y mind, sharp and clear. I would not be a victim

I would pla