Chapter 2: The Perfect Illusion Cracks
Julian saw me first.
The moment our eyes met, the color drained from his face.
The little boy slid down from his arms, laughing—unaware.
“Valeria?” he whispered.
The brunette—Eleanor—turned sharply. Her hand tightened around his sleeve. “Julian… who is she?”
Silence filled the room like a rising tide.
I held up the divorce decree.
“Apparently,” I said calmly, “I’m your past.”
Julian took a step toward me. “This isn’t what it looks like—”
“Really?” I cut in. “Because it looks like I buried my father while you buried me.”
Eleanor’s expression shifted—confusion, then suspicion. “Julian… what is she talking about?”
He didn’t answer.
That was all she needed.
“You told me your wife died,” she said slowly. “You said you were alone.”
May you like
“I am,” he snapped, too quickly.
I laughed. A sharp, broken sound. “You’re not alone, Julian. You’re exposed.”
