On our wedding night, my husband, Scott, wanted to get intimate with me, but I turned him down, saying I was tired. He understandingly agreed and kissed me goodnight. Suddenly, at midnight, I felt the bed shake and turned to my side, only to freeze at what Scott was doing on our bed.
On our wedding night, amidst the anticipation, I was hesitating. “Scott, can we… can we talk for a bit?” I asked, suggesting we don’t dive right into the “action.”
Scott frowned and questioned, “Talk? Now?”
Despite his frustration, I expressed my need for more conversation and rest, given the day’s exhaustion.
Scott reluctantly agreed, masking his disappointment with a gentle kiss on my cheek before we turned in for the night. However, the tranquility of our lavender-scented suite was shattered when I awoke a few hours later.
Our bed was shaking for some reason, and it took a while before my eyes focused enough to see Scott kneeling by the bed, holding a baby.
“Scott?” I gasped in confusion. “What’s going on?”
He looked at me before his eyes darted around as if thinking of an excuse, and finally whispered, “Everly, this is Ella,” he gulped, and my world spun as he continued. “She is my orphaned niece. My stepsister, Maya, is gone now. I found out about her just a few weeks ago.”
I arranged myself on the bed, dumbfounded. “A few weeks ago?” I repeated, frowning, as I struggled to understand how the baby had appeared in our room on our wedding night.
“Everly, I was scared you’d leave if you knew about her,” Scott confessed, not meeting my eyes.
“How could you do this, Scott? How can we start our life together with secrets and lies?” I asked, appalled. But I took a deep breath. “Scott, what’s the plan here? Are you… wait, are we going to adopt Ella?”
“I haven’t thought that far, Everly. Right now, I just need to take care of her,” he answered and suggested we postpone the discussion. I agreed because I was too tired to keep talking about it, but I went to sleep with a horrible feeling in my gut.
***
We returned home to Scott’s vast estate the following day with Ella and settled into a life with her as if something had been decided last night. I felt powerless, but I had no idea how to change that.
As I held Ella one evening, I sought answers about Scott’s past and his stepsister, Maya. “Scott, if you and your family cut ties with your stepsister, why insist on raising her baby?” I wondered.
Scott’s reluctance to answer made me angry.
“But she’s Ella’s mother, right? What else do you know about her?” I pressed, my voice sharper.
“Everly, it’s not about Maya anymore. It’s about Ella. She’s innocent in all this. And she has no one but us,” Scott finally said.
I inquired about Ella’s father, but he cut me off, refusing to say more.
A couple of weeks later, curiosity led me to Scott’s study while he was away at work. I discovered a photograph on his desk that contradicted everything he had told me before. It was a picture of Scott, seemingly happy and close with a pregnant woman, potentially Maya.
When Scott walked into the house later that evening, his smile faded as he noticed my stern expression. “Everly, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
I held up the photo, my voice steady but cold. “Explain this, Scott. And I want the truth this time. You told me you and your sister were estranged. But this picture tells me otherwise.”
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