My Husband’s Childhood Sweetheart Moved In

I just returned home from a business trip. As soon as I opened the door, I was surprised to see my husband, Harlan Flores, cooking in the kitchen.

Before I could say anything, my eyes were drawn to a woman in a striking red dress on the couch. Noticing the commotion at the entrance, the woman shifted her gaze from Harlan in the kitchen to me.

The moment she saw me, she stood up, walked over, and extended her hand, smiling. "Hi, Waverly. I'm Tamsin Jones, a childhood friend of Harlan's."

Hearing her introduction, I nodded knowingly before shaking her outstretched hand.

"Hello. Please have a seat."

As I walked to the couch and sat down, something about her seemed familiar, prompting me to take a second look. In an instant, I remembered where I had seen her—on my wedding day with Harlan.

She had sat in the audience back then. Her face was as pale as snow, and she had tears in her eyes as she looked at Harlan with deep sorrow.

Before I could exchange pleasantries with her, Harlan emerged from the kitchen carrying two light dishes and placed them on the dining table.

He didn't seem to notice that I was back from my trip. Without so much as glancing at me or Tamsin on the couch, he said, "Tammy, come eat. I made light dishes that you can enjoy."

After speaking, he turned around. He wore a smile, and his gaze was fixed directly on the woman beside me.

His eyes shifted slightly the next moment and finally landed on me sitting on the couch. I could see the shock in his eyes. It was as if he hadn't expected me to return so soon from my trip.

A hint of unease flashed across his expression. "When did you get back? Why didn't you let me know?"

I waved my phone. "I sent you a message this afternoon."

He walked back into the kitchen, grabbed an extra set of tableware, and replied dismissively, "Oh, maybe I didn't notice. Come and eat."

Tamsin, beside me, stood up first and walked to the dining table. Before she could pull out a chair, Harlan quickly put down the utensils in his hands and helped her with the chair.

I felt an inexplicable sense that something was off as I watched their interaction, though I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

As I took a seat at the dining table, I glanced at the two light dishes on the table and suddenly lost my appetite. Still, I couldn't show my displeasure with a guest present, so I forced myself to take a couple of bites.

Something suddenly occurred to me. I glanced around the room, but I didn't see who I was looking for. An uneasy feeling began to grow.

I turned to Harlan and asked, "Harlan, where's Henrietta?"

He was serving food to Tamsin and responded to my question with a hint of impatience. "I fired her."

I frowned, placing my utensils lightly on the table before asking, "Why?"

Henrietta Hall was a housekeeper I had hired through an agency. She was diligent, thorough, polite, and maintained proper boundaries. Even her cooking was excellent, and she was good at making spicy dishes that I loved.

I had invested a lot of time, effort, and money to poach her from another family. Now, Harlan had dismissed her without an explanation. Anger flared within me.

But Harlan's expression remained indifferent as he replied disdainfully and arrogantly, "She's just a housekeeper. I have the authority to handle her as I see fit."

Tamsin chimed in shyly, "Well, Waverly, it's just that I'll be staying here long-term. Having an outsider around feels inconvenient, so—"

Before she could finish, I interrupted her. "You're staying here long-term? What do you mean?"

Her eyes darted to Harlan for help. He then rose to his feet, walked to the living room, and retrieved a medical report before placing it in front of me.

The report contained the words "Late-stage stomach cancer".