Chapter 1

Three years into our marriage, Julian Whitmore froze my bank cards six times for his childhood sweetheart, Vanessa Lane.

I smashed up seven of his cars.

The last time, he stood at the garage door with Vanessa behind him, shielding her:

"Come back when you've learned to respect her."

I threw my wedding ring in his face and moved out that night.

Two weeks later, the hotel I was staying at caught fire.

Julian ran into the burning building and carried me down seventeen floors on his back.

When the stairs collapsed, he pushed me clear and was buried underneath.

In the hospital, he held my bandaged hand in his burned one and begged me through tears:

"I've sent Vanessa away. Babe, let's not get divorced."

I withdrew the divorce petition.

For the next four years, he never let me suffer the slightest hurt.

Everyone said that fire had burned his heart back to me.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I got a call from a preschool.

"Your son hurt a classmate. Could you please come in?"

I thought they had the wrong number.

I don't have a child.

But the woman on the line read off my name, my address, and Julian's phone number without a single mistake.

When I got there, Vanessa was sitting in the office with a little boy in her arms.

The boy pointed at me and asked:

"Daddy, is this the lady who makes money for our family?"

Julian clapped a hand over his mouth.

The enrollment form lay open on the desk.

Under Father, it said Julian Whitmore.

Under Mother, it said my name.

Vanessa lowered her head and explained:

"Julian and I never got married, so my son couldn't get into this preschool. I had to borrow your identity, Nora."

Julian took my hand:

"It's just a name on a form. It's not like you lost anything."

I looked at that four-year-old boy and suddenly laughed.

Four years ago, Julian said he was afraid having a baby would be dangerous for me, and he talked me into ending our pregnancy.

So it turned out he hadn't been against becoming a father.

It was just that, by then, someone else was already having his kids.

I pushed the form back in front of him.

"Put her name down."

"And while you're at it, I'm giving her back the spot as Mrs. Whitmore too."

...

The color drained from Julian's face little by little.

"Nora Hayes, do you know what you're saying?"

"I do."

I pulled my hand out of his grip and turned to the preschool director.

"This child is not mine. Please pull the documents that were submitted at enrollment. I need copies for my records."

Vanessa shot to her feet.

"Nora, the boy is right here. Whatever you want to say, let's take it outside."

She reached for me, and I stepped aside.

"A minute ago, when you had him call me 'the lady,' you didn't stop to think how little he is?"

Her eyes went red, and she looked at Julian.

Julian moved half a step forward to block me.

The same old move.

Back then, every time I saw it, I'd lose my mind.

This time I just walked around him to the desk.

The director hesitated, then brought out the file.

Besides the enrollment form, there was a copy of my ID, a copy of our marriage certificate, and a photo from a family day event.

In the photo, Julian was holding the boy, and Vanessa had her arm hooked through his.

Underneath were the names of the family of three.

In the mother's slot was Nora Hayes.

My fingertips went cold.

Last June, Julian had said his company was having a team-building retreat, no spouses allowed.

So that was him coming here to play dad to someone else's kid.

The director's voice dropped.

"Ms. Lane always said Nora was her nickname. Mr. Whitmore called her that too, so we never..."

"It's not your fault."

I took out my phone and photographed every page.

"Now that you know, please correct it. As for the falsified documents, I'll have someone handle that."

"Nora."

Julian pressed his hand down on the file folder, his face finally darkening.

"You really have to push a child out of school?"

"I'm asking you to fix fake documents. How does that turn into me pushing him?"

The boy suddenly charged over, grabbed the cup of water off the desk, and threw it at me.

Warm water splashed all over me.

The rim of the cup hit my wrist bone, and the pain made my fingers curl.

"Bad lady! Don't you be mean to my mommy!"

Julian scooped up the boy, and the first thing he did was check his hands.

"Did you burn yourself?"

The office went quiet for a few seconds.

Only then did he turn to look at me.

"Nora..."

I pulled out a tissue and wiped the water off my sleeve.

"You've taught him well."

Vanessa held the boy tight, her voice thick with tears.

"Nora, he's just really scared."

"I haven't even touched any of you, and he's this scared."

I tossed the wet tissue into the trash.

"So if I actually pressed charges, would you have to teach him to pick up a knife next?"

Julian's face looked ugly.

I didn't look at him again. I picked up my bag to leave.

But the director stopped me.

"Ms. Hayes, there's one more thing we need to verify."

She pulled another form from the back of the file.

"When the boy got hurt, our nurse couldn't reach his father, so she called the number on file for you. We wanted to check whether the number had been entered wrong, and we found two children registered in the file."

I stopped in my tracks.

Julian reached for it.

I got my hand on the paper first.

Same father. Same mother.

The second photo was of a little girl in pigtails.

"Boy-girl twins?"

I heard my own voice.

Vanessa lowered her head and wiped her tears.

Julian's lips moved, but he said nothing.

The answer was clear enough.

I looked down at the date of birth.

October 16.

Four years ago, on October 16, I lay in the operating room, clutching the hem of his shirt and begging him.

"Can we not do this?"