My Wife, Her Son, His Lie

he third morning, there was a soft knock on my hotel room door. My heart ha

She looked tired, the perfect makeup not quite hiding t

. "You always drink it when you're stressed.

ought I had married, the woman who would rub my shoulders after a long day and listen to my work frustrations. A pa

hin walls. I was working 80-hour weeks trying to get my tech startup off the ground, living off instant noodles and sheer will. She was going to endless aud

to build an empire, and you're going

me. "As long as I have you,

ove in that tiny apartment felt a million miles

g in her hands. The weakness in me, the part that

t the money, the houses, the career. Just tell me that what we had wasn't all a lie. We can.

the moment the words left my mouth. I was offering her an esc

her eyes. Was it regret? Sadness? But it was gone as quickly as it

he just looked past me, into the

an," she said, her voice fla

in my face. The last ember of hope I had

moment got inf

ng Noah's hand. He was dressed in a sharp, casual blazer, looking confident a

mess, my face pale. I saw myself through his eyes: the jilted husband, the pathetic

make the best of," looked at me with an

feet away. He smiled, a smug, triumph

voice smooth as silk. "I though

ainst Chloe's leg, staring at me with what looked like open hostility. He was a minia