Chapter 1"Oh hey, you're the new teacher, right? Perfect timing! We're throwing a baby shower tonight for Director Holden's kid—you should come!"
Just got transferred to the university where my husband Holden works.
Haven't even seen him yet, and boom—news about him hits me first.
I stared down at the invitation someone shoved in my hands—
Father: Holden Graves
Mother: Sloane Parker
Son: Austin Graves
Sloane Parker? Who the hell is that.
A baby? News to me.
Party starts at 6:30 tonight.
Fine.
Let's go see what this is about.
...
6:30 sharp, I showed up at the address.
Place was packed.
This woman with total mom-next-door energy stood by the entrance, greeting people next to a stroller.
She walked up with this warm smile:
"You're with the district office, right? Holden was just saying yesterday someone might drop by. Come on in."
I didn't answer her. Eyes locked on the baby in that stroller.
Kid's face—even that tiny red mole on his earlobe—dead ringer for Holden.
"Where's Holden?"
Scanned the room. I saw the VP from Holden's school, department heads, lead teachers.
Even spotted a few of his cousins from back home.
Guy had the balls to pull this off right in front of family and every single coworker.
"Holden went to pick up my in-laws from the station. Traffic's hell right now, but they'll be here soon."
Sloane's smile? Totally clueless.
Felt like my chest was gonna split open.
Just last night, my mother-in-law was all excited on the phone, telling me she and my father-in-law signed up for some short trip.
Even asked what gift I wanted them to bring back.
They'd spent their whole lives broke. I felt bad.
Didn't think twice—transferred them the full twenty grand I just got paid.
All these years I've been covering their doctor visits, meds, new clothes every season, holiday cash—everything.
They'd tell everyone I was this amazing daughter-in-law.
Turns out his whole family knew.
I'm the only idiot who didn't.
Getting reassigned to Portland was total chance.
Coworker who was supposed to come had something come up.
I volunteered—thought I'd surprise Holden.
We've been long-distance almost three years now.
Back then Holden got transferred from Eugene to Portland State to be academic director. Said it was make-or-break for his career.
I Didn't wanna let him go but couldn't hold him back either.
Plus my schedule's insane. So I gritted my teeth and said okay.
Three years of keeping things alive with one video call a day.
He was always that same sweet, thoughtful professor type—telling me not to stay up late, coming home like clockwork every holiday.
Never doubted him once.
Never thought he'd throw away ten years—from college to our wedding.
Sloane noticed I'd been standing there silent, so she waved a server over to walk me to the faculty family section, right next to the head table.
Barely sat down when teachers at my table started gushing.
"If anyone at this school's living the dream, it's gotta be Director Graves."
"His wife runs this chain of bougie art galleries. Loaded, and she's sweet as hell too. Now she gave him a son. Like, seriously—we're jealous."
"Yeah, remember three years ago when Sloane married him? We were all kinda skeptical."
Woman across from me nodded.
"But look now—Holden's solid. Three years and he treats her like a queen. Sloane made the right call."
"No kidding. And his self-control? Legendary. Since he became director, parade of young teachers throwing themselves at him. Doesn't even look their way. That's what you call a model husband."
Chapter 2
Nails digging into my palm.
Phone buzzed. Voice message from Holden.
"Hey babe, you doing okay? Don't forget to eat even if you're slammed."
Holden and I—married ten years.
Him and this Sloane woman—three years.
Scariest part?
I Didn't notice a damn thing.
Last night on video he promised, "Once this busy stretch's over, I'll come stay with you in Eugene this summer. We'll hit Miami, finally do that anniversary trip."
Ten years he played the struggling educator in front of me.
Every month outta his twelve-grand director salary, he'd keep five hundred for gas and transit, send the rest straight to my account.
Didn't smoke, didn't drink.
Only hobby was buying old teaching guides and yellowed education journals from thrift stores.
Three years ago told me Portland State offered him academic director—huge career step.
"Babe, long-distance sucks but your career's just getting started.
Once I'm settled I'll bring you over. I can handle it."
I was so moved.
Not only said yes—took over all his parents' expenses.
Scheduling appointments, arranging checkups, paying medical bills, buying holiday gifts—handled everything.
"Babe, knowing you got my back gives me peace of mind to focus on work."
Guy choked up on the phone.
Sounded so sincere.
Now I get it—wasn't out there "focusing on work."
Just found a convenient excuse to build a whole other life with another woman a thousand miles away.
"Heard Director Graves runs these elite test prep courses on the side. Partnered with big-name tutors—pulls in hundreds of thousands a year just in profit splits."
Math teacher leaned in, voice low.
"And Holden's so good to his wife. Every cent? Dumps it straight into Sloane's gallery. When a guy invests his whole fortune in his wife's business, that's real love."
Chest going cold.
He told me he sometimes tutored graduating seniors on weekends outta duty as an educator.
Turns out he's raking in cash under the table—funneling every dollar into another woman's dreams.
Two years ago when my mom needed thirty grand for heart surgery, he looked all pained and helpless. Had to advance a year's salary just to get her into the OR.
After, he held my hand, eyes red.
"Don't worry babe. I'm here. From now on every cent goes to you."
Voice so damn sincere.
Wasn't that he didn't have money.
His money was going somewhere else.
Sloane walked over with juice, caught the tail end of the teasing.
Cheeks flushed, laughing softly.
"Oh stop roasting Holden."
Set the juice down.
"Honestly in a marriage it's not about how much you got. It's about being honest. Holden's so straightforward he doesn't even have a secret stash. Long as we're on the same page, that's what matters."
Words "being honest" hit like a slap. Stomach turning.
Sloane noticed I'd been alone in the corner, so she rolled the stroller over and sat next to me.
"Sorry it's been crazy, didn't even catch your name. You from state or district?"
Easy smile, tucking in the baby's blanket.
I Forced a smile.
"Last name's Carter. Just pushing paper at the local level. Nothing fancy."
Chapter 3
"You're too modest, Ms. Carter."
Sloane glanced down at the baby, all soft and serene.
"Honestly Holden's had it rough these past few years. Transferred here didn't know a soul. Built everything from scratch. Always says it's thanks to support from up top that he even has time for family."
My heart jolted.
"He spends a lot of time with you?"
"Oh yeah."
She nodded like crazy.
"Busy during the week but always comes home right after to cook. Weekends? Glued to me and the baby."
"Especially when I was pregnant and huge—turned down every single evening shift just to be home. He's just... total family guy."
Stared at the wine glass. Vision blurring.
He told me he worked late every night, weekends catching up on evaluation reports—no time for anything.
Those weekly video calls at the exact same time?
Now I get it. That's when Sloane wasn't home.
Baby suddenly kicked.
Something fell from the stroller, dangling.
Little metal tag hanging from a thin chain.
Saw it and just—slumped back. Couldn't move.
Five years ago I was pregnant.
Mother-in-law insisted on visiting some psychic out in the boonies during a storm.
I drove out to get her, crashed bad on a mountain road.
Yanked the wheel hard to protect her. Slammed into a tree.
She walked away fine.
I lost my baby at seven months. Uterus so wrecked—can't ever have kids again.
Took three full years to crawl out of that depression.
Spent months making that tag by hand to cope. Stamped Anna on it myself.
One day it disappeared. Nearly lost it I was so upset. He held me for hours.
Hands shaking, grabbed the tag. There clear as day: Anna.
"Holden brought this home a while back. Said some craftsman made it special for the baby."
Everything inside twisting.
Even breathing hurt.
Tag I made with my blood and tears—now a birth gift for his bastard kid.
Five years ago after the crash he held me sobbing. Swore as long as he had me that was enough.
When he found out I carved those gourds, cried with me half the night.
"Only trace of our kid left in this world. I'll protect it with you."
His "protecting" was stealing it and giving it to another woman's baby.
Phone buzzed.
Message from mother-in-law.
[Zara sweetie, dad and I wanna stay a few extra days.
Take care of yourself, don't work too hard.
Got you a gift, one for your mom too.
Got plenty of money left, don't send more. Just wait for us to come home okay...]
Usually messages like that warmed me.
Now just felt cold.
Gripped my phone. Fingers shaking. Barely typed "Okay," flipped it facedown.
Sloane kept going, laughing about delivery day—how he cried outside the OR, too scared to hold the baby.
"Hands shaking so bad. Figured his first wife dying in childbirth messed him up."
I Jerked my head up, forcing words through teeth:
"First wife? He said his first wife died in childbirth?"
