A Perfect Marriage Built On Lies

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For five years, I believed I had the perfect marriage. That ended the day I saw my husband in the park with his son-a son I never knew existed, and a woman my family told me was dead. The woman was Morgan, my adoptive sister who tried to have me killed in a hit-and-run before vanishing. My husband and parents swore she died in a car crash. They all lied. I found a hidden tablet, a five-year highlight reel of my life as a cover story. Photos of a pregnant Morgan. Videos of my husband, David, teaching their son to say "Dada." Even pictures of my own parents, holding the secret grandson they adored while telling me I wasn't ready for a child. My entire world, my entire family, was a complete fabrication. But the final blow was a recording of David's voice, discussing a "Plan B" in case I ever discovered the truth. "We can have her declared mentally incompetent. We can have her committed and out of our way for good." They weren't just betraying me; they were ready to lock me in a psychiatric ward and throw away the key. So that night, on our fifth anniversary, when David handed me a cup of "calming tea" sent by my mother, I smiled. I played the part of the loving wife one last time, then walked out the door forever. They wanted to erase me, so I decided to become a ghost.

Family Betrayal Revenge Kickass Heroine Hidden identities

Chapter 10

The day before yesterday 21:39

Chapter 1

For five years, I believed I had the perfect marriage. That ended the day I saw my husband in the park with his son-a son I never knew existed, and a woman my family told me was dead.

The woman was Morgan, my adoptive sister who tried to have me killed in a hit-and-run before vanishing. My husband and parents swore she died in a car crash.

They all lied.

I found a hidden tablet, a five-year highlight reel of my life as a cover story. Photos of a pregnant Morgan. Videos of my husband, David, teaching their son to say "Dada." Even pictures of my own parents, holding the secret grandson they adored while telling me I wasn't ready for a child.

My entire world, my entire family, was a complete fabrication.

But the final blow was a recording of David's voice, discussing a "Plan B" in case I ever discovered the truth.

"We can have her declared mentally incompetent. We can have her committed and out of our way for good."

They weren't just betraying me; they were ready to lock me in a psychiatric ward and throw away the key.

So that night, on our fifth anniversary, when David handed me a cup of "calming tea" sent by my mother, I smiled. I played the part of the loving wife one last time, then walked out the door forever. They wanted to erase me, so I decided to become a ghost.

Chapter 1

HANNAH POV

For five years, I believed I was the luckiest woman alive, until I saw my husband playing with his son in a park-a son I never knew existed, with a woman who was supposed to be dead.

The laughter carried on the spring breeze, a bright, happy sound that made my chest tighten. It was our annual school picnic, and I was watching my first-graders chase butterflies near the old oak tree. The sun felt warm on my skin, a perfect day.

That's when I saw them.

Across the manicured lawn, near the duck pond, stood David. My David. His perfectly tailored suit jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the strong forearms I knew so well. He was crouched down, his expression one of pure, unadulterated joy. A little boy with a head of dark, curly hair was squealing with delight as David pretended to be a monster, chasing him in slow, lumbering steps.

My heart did a funny little flip. David loved kids, I knew he did. It was one of the things that made me fall for him. But he'd always been so firm about us not having any. "The world is too complicated, Hannah," he'd say, stroking my hair. "And I can't bear the thought of you going through the pain of childbirth. I just want to have you all to myself."

I had accepted it, because I loved him. Because after a childhood spent in the cold shuffle of foster care, being found by my birth family, the Wallaces, and marrying David felt like the ultimate fairytale. He was my prince, my protector.

Then the woman turned.

She had been sitting on a nearby bench, watching them. She stood up, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun, and called out a name. "Caleb, be careful!"

Her voice was a ghost clawing its way up my throat.

It was Morgan.

My blood turned to ice water, a frigid cascade that started in my scalp and rushed down to my toes. It couldn't be. **Five years ago, my parents, Robert and Eleanor Wallace, had sat me down and told me Morgan was gone. A tragic car accident on a winding country road. A lonely, sad end for the girl they had raised as their own for twenty years, right up until I, the real heiress, was found.**

**It was Morgan who had hated me on sight, Morgan who had orchestrated a vicious hit-and-run to frame me and ruin the family's pristine image. When the truth came out, I'd naively handed all the evidence to my parents and David, my then-fiancé, trusting them to handle it. They told me she was gone. They held me while I cried-not for the woman who tried to destroy me, but for the sheer tragedy of it all. They said we could finally be a family.**

And I had believed them.

Now, the dead woman was standing twenty yards away, looking vibrant and healthy. She walked over to David, placing a familiar, proprietary hand on his arm. He smiled at her, a soft, intimate smile he usually reserved for me after we made love. He leaned in and kissed her. Not a peck on the cheek, but a real kiss, a husband's kiss. The little boy, Caleb, ran and wrapped his arms around David's legs, shouting, "My turn, Daddy!"

Daddy.

The world tilted on its axis. The laughter of my students faded into a dull roar. The five years of my marriage-the perfect dinners, the charity galas, the quiet nights curled up together-flashed before my eyes, **a highlight reel of a life I now realized was a complete fabrication.**

David's constant business trips. His refusal to let me have a child. The deep, unshakable sadness I sometimes saw in his eyes, which I had always assumed was guilt over Morgan's death.

It wasn't guilt. It was longing.

I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a sob. I hid behind the thick trunk of the oak tree, my body shaking so hard my teeth chattered.

They were a family. A secret, perfect family.

And I was just... the cover story. The convenient, forgiving, true heiress who made it all possible.

A wave of nausea washed over me, so strong I had to grip the rough bark of the tree to keep from collapsing. The sandwich I'd eaten for lunch churned in my stomach. This couldn't be real. It was a nightmare.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. The screen lit up with a picture of my mother, Eleanor, smiling serenely.

I answered, my voice a strangled whisper. "Mom?"

"Hannah, darling! Just calling to check in. How is the picnic going?" Her voice was smooth as silk, the voice of the Wallace Corporation's matriarch.

I watched as David lifted the little boy onto his shoulders. Morgan laughed, linking her arm through his. They started walking away, a portrait of domestic bliss.

"It's... fine," I managed to say. An idea, cold and sharp, cut through the fog of my pain. A test.

"Mom," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Something strange just happened. A reporter from the Financial Times just called one of the other teachers, asking about some rumor... something about a secret subsidiary of the company being mismanaged. Do you know anything about that?"

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. A silence so profound it was a confession.

"Don't be ridiculous, Hannah," she finally said, but her voice had lost its warmth. It was sharp, brittle. "That's just nonsense. Don't speak to any reporters. Do you understand? David is handling all press inquiries."

"Okay," I whispered.

"I'm serious, Hannah. I'll call David right now. You just stay put and enjoy your day."

The line went dead.

Minutes later, I saw David pull out his phone. His smile vanished. He handed the boy to Morgan, his expression turning grim. He said something to her, kissed her quickly, and then strode toward the parking lot.

He was coming for me. Coming to manage the situation.

The lie.

I sank to the ground, the damp earth seeping through my jeans. The world wasn't tilted anymore. It had shattered. And I was standing alone in the wreckage.

My phone buzzed again. A text from David.

'Headed home, angel. Feeling a little under the weather. See you soon. I love you.'

A hysterical laugh bubbled in my chest. He loved me.

The words, once my entire world, were now just ash in my mouth.