Chapter 2

The guard nodded in Mom and Harold's direction and asked, "Anyway, who did you say you were looking for again? Anna something?"

My eyes locked onto Mom's hand, which was tightly intertwined with that man's.

The words forced their way past my teeth, cold and deliberate. "Annalise Fowler—my dad's legal wife, my biological mother, and the deputy CEO of Orion Tech."

As the words left my mouth, the woman across from me seemed to sense something and snapped her head around.

The moment I saw her turn, my reflexes kicked in, and I ducked behind the security booth.

Mom didn't see me. She frowned in confusion, then wrapped her arm around the man and Harold before heading inside.

I pulled out my phone, snapped a photo of their backs, and immediately sent it to Grandpa, who was currently abroad.

"Grandpa, Mom cheated." My voice shook. "She even has a child with that man. I'm going to tell Dad and make sure Mom leaves with nothing!"

Silence stretched over the line before Grandpa finally spoke. He sent me a contact number for one of the top lawyers in the country. "Get in touch with him. I'm booking the next flight back."

I hung up, ignored the guard's bewildered stare, and hailed a cab home.

That day was Christmas Eve, and Dad was in the kitchen making dinner.

Mom had a bad stomach, and the doctor had recommended a bland, clean diet.

To take care of her, Dad forced himself to change from a pampered, wealthy heir into a master chef who could prepare every kind of dish. If Mom liked it, Dad learned how to make it.

He had been doing this for 19 years now. Next March would mark their 20th wedding anniversary.

Yet, I had just discovered Mom's affair.

My eyes stung fiercely as I walked up behind Dad.

He had just turned 50. He kept himself in great shape and barely had any wrinkles—the picture of a man who had lived a comfortable life.

But his hands told a different story. His nails were slightly yellowed, his palms calloused, and the backs of his hands were scarred from old grease burns and blisters.

They were all from cooking for Mom.

"Dad," I called out.

He turned around. The moment he saw the tears in my eyes, he panicked. "Charlie, what's wrong? Who messed with you? Tell me. I'll—"

"It's Mom." I sniffled, my voice completely hoarse.

"What?" Dad froze.

I looked at him and forced a bitter smile. "Dad, Mom's having an affair. I just saw the guy. They have a son my age."

Wiping away my tears, I mechanically pulled the file compiled by Grandpa's lawyer from my backpack and flipped through the pages in front of Dad.

"The guy is named Carlos Mercado. He's from the same village as Mom. They first hooked up eight days after your wedding. Mom went back to her hometown, and that night, they ended up in bed together."

Dad went entirely pale, refusing to believe it. "T-That's impossible. Your mother treats me so well."

I laughed, but my eyes were swollen from crying. "Oh, she treats you great. For your first anniversary, she rented out an entire field of flowers for you. It even made the local news back then.

"But Grandpa's lawyer just told me that Mom had given that same flower field to Carlos three days prior. What she gave you was nothing more than a hand-me-down gesture.

"And remember when Mom was pregnant? Grandpa told me how much you hated seeing her suffer from morning sickness. You'd wake up before dawn every day to make her soup, and you wouldn't sleep until she did.

"But right after her postpartum recovery, she claimed that she needed a vacation to clear her head. She had actually spent it sleeping with that man in a villa just six miles from our house. That's exactly when their bastard son was conceived."