On the night of our wedding, Scott, my husband, was eager for intimacy, but I was exhausted and hoped to delay our physical connection for just a while longer. Scott, being the understanding partner he was, accepted my excuse with a kiss goodnight. Little did I know, our night was far from over.
In the hushed hours of midnight, I stirred from my slumber, feeling the bed tremble beneath me. Startled, I turned to find Scott on the bed, cradling a baby in his arms. I was in complete shock when he introduced the infant as Ella, his orphaned niece, and disclosed the sudden responsibility thrust upon him.
“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.”
The following morning, as sunlight flooded through the windows of Scott’s grand estate, the weight of the previous night’s secrets hung heavily in the air. Questions buzzed in my mind like persistent insects, demanding answers. Who was Ella’s mother? Why had Scott kept her existence hidden from me? And what did this mean for our newly minted marriage?
