The next day, Scott brought me to his estate—a sprawling home that now felt more like a stranger’s house than a place to begin a marriage. Ella, sweet and innocent, was in our care, yet my mind spun with doubts.
I pressed Scott for answers. “What happened to her mother? Why did you keep this from me?”
I wanted to believe him, but soon, the pieces stopped fitting together.
The Photograph
While unpacking, I found a photograph tucked into one of Scott’s books. It showed him standing beside a pregnant woman. The intimacy in their pose unsettled me.
When I asked him about it, he grew pale.
“That’s Maya,” he admitted reluctantly. Then, after a long silence, he added, “Ella isn’t my niece. She’s my daughter.”
The confession shattered my trust. How could he marry me without telling me this? Why had he built our relationship on such a lie?
Doubt, Anger, and a Dangerous Warning
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