Chapter 1

"Timothy, Caleb isn't your son."

When Claire said that to me, I was a lot calmer than she expected me to be.

The truth was, I had already started to suspect things. From Caleb being born two months early, to how he looked less and less like me as he grew, and then the sudden arrival of the man who had recently moved into the villa next door—everything started to add up.

"Caleb's real father is the heir to the richest family in Berglaton. The Lancaster family has very few direct descendants left. If Caleb is officially acknowledged, Lincoln can surpass his frail uncle and take over the family."

Claire bit her lip and added when I didn't respond, "Timothy, can we get a fake divorce for Caleb's future? Once everything settles down, I'll come back to you."

I gave her a bitter smile. She'd already said everything so clearly. Did it even matter whether I agreed or not?

But knowing that the boy I had raised for nine years wasn't my son and that he would soon be calling another man "Dad" hit me with a pain I couldn't even begin to describe.

"You'll really come back?" I asked.

"Of course. I'm your wife. Once Caleb becomes the heir of the Lancaster family, we'll remarry."

She leaned in to kiss me, but I gently pulled away.

"Fine. I'll agree to the divorce."

Claire's face lit up with joy. "Thank you, Timothy. Caleb will be so happy to have a father as understanding as you. Don't worry. He'll still treat you like his real dad."

My head was spinning. I didn't want to hear any more, so I casually asked what was for dinner and headed to the kitchen.

I had married into the Bennett family ten years ago. Every meal I had ever learned to cook was for Claire and Caleb.

"You can just cook for yourself. I'm going to tell Lincoln the good news."

Claire was practically skipping out the door, and with each footstep, my heart sank deeper.

But just as the door closed once, it clicked open again.

"You don't mind, do you?" Claire carefully asked as she peeked back through the doorway.

I smiled faintly. "I don't mind anymore."

She then beamed and ran off to the villa next door.

From the side window of our house, I had a clear view of the front yard of Lincoln's house. I saw Claire leap into his arms, laughing as he spun her around. They looked so happy as they smiled like nothing else mattered.

Over all those years that I had been married to her—no matter how hard I tried or how well I treated her—I had never seen her laugh like that.

Ten years of my love couldn't melt her stone-cold heart. But the moment the man who once abandoned her and their son came back, she threw herself at him like a lovesick fool.

If that was her choice, then there was nothing left for me to hold onto. I pulled out my phone and called George Baker.

"Tell my father I'll come home on Christmas Eve. I've decided to take over the family."

Right then, the door slammed open behind me. Caleb stood in the doorway, furious. "Timothy! Why didn't you pick me up from school? Do you want my legs to break from walking home?"

I had raised Caleb like he was my own son, but I always knew he looked down on me for being the live-in son-in-law. Still, no matter how spoiled he was, he had never spoken to me quite like this before.

I froze for a second, then crouched down in front of him. "Caleb, your mom and I were talking about something, and I lost track of time. I promise I'll be there early next time."

"Save it!" he snapped. Caleb shot me a cold glare. "Lincoln's driver already picked me up. His car is huge, and it's a convertible. Don't bother embarrassing me at school again. I want someone like him to be my dad!" He tossed down his backpack and stormed toward the villa next door.

"Caleb!" My chest ached with a pain so sharp it numbed me, but I managed to stay rational. I had a feeling Claire and Lincoln were in the middle of something no child should walk in on. "Your mom and Lincoln might be busy. It's probably not the best time to visit them right now."

"Mind your own business!" Caleb shoved me, clawing at my face. "Get out of my way! Whatever happens in my house has nothing to do with you anymore! You pathetic loser!"

I stood there in a daze, blood trickling down my cheek from where he had scratched me. Slowly, I wiped it away and walked to the guest room at the end of the hallway.

From that window, I had a direct view of Lincoln's master bedroom.

I hadn't been trying to spy. I just wanted to give them a heads-up that Caleb was on his way. Even a dog in heat had the decency to pause when someone was about to walk in.

Behind the curtain, their tangled silhouettes left little doubt as to what they were doing. It made my stomach churn.

So, this was the "fake divorce" Claire had promised me?

This was how she wanted a future for her son?

This was the woman who claimed she still loved me?

Their conversation carried through the open window.

I heard Lincoln ask, "So how many times did you sleep with Timothy for him to raise my kid over all these years?"

Claire giggled and sweetly said, "Just once on our wedding night. How else could I have convinced him Caleb was really his?"

"Just once?" Lincoln sounded skeptical.

Claire swore, "Just once. I was disgusted just looking at him. There's no way I'd let him touch me again."

"Disgusted"? She called me disgusting?

She used to say she loved me, that she loved the way I touched her. She said I was gentle and caring, both before and after we were intimate. She used to promise she'd love me forever.

Now, I didn't know which words were real and which were lies.

I was about to knock something over just to make a sound and warn them that Caleb was coming when I heard her again.

"But once you become the heir of the Lancaster family, maybe give Timothy some compensation. He did raise your kid over all these years."

Lincoln snorted. "Sounds like you're still thinking about him. Don't tell me you've fallen for him?"

Before Claire could answer, Caleb's voice rang out, "Mom!" He came bounding up the stairs.

The two of them scrambled to get dressed.

At least they had that much shame left.

I turned to leave but accidentally bumped into a flowerpot by the guest room window.

"Who's there?" Lincoln shouted.

I didn't answer and silently headed downstairs.