Chapter 4 - Brielle's Perfect ChristmasBrielle suddenly began crying.
“This is insane.”
I looked at her.
She wasn't crying because of me.
She was crying because the life she had built was collapsing.
Marcus had told her I was infertile.
He had told her our marriage ended because I was unstable.
He had told her I had become obsessed with having children.
He had told everyone I had tried to trap him.
Now five children were standing in front of him.
All wearing his father's bracelets.
Brielle turned toward Marcus.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“You knew she was pregnant?”
“I didn't know.”
“Then why did you say she was lying?”
Marcus looked away.
“I was angry.”
Brielle laughed bitterly.
“Angry?”
She pointed at the children.
“You destroyed their childhood because you were angry?”
The room became uncomfortable.
Marcus tried to reach for her.
She stepped back.
“Don't touch me.”
Then his mother spoke.
“Brielle.”
She turned.
“You knew about the pregnancy.”
His mother froze.
Brielle looked at Marcus.
“You told me your mother didn't know.”
Nobody spoke.
I understood immediately.
There was another secret.
Brielle had discovered something.
She turned toward me.
“I found letters.”
I said nothing.
“Letters from Everett.”
Marcus's face tightened.
“He wrote to you.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That he knew the children existed.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
Brielle continued.
“He said he was ashamed of what his son had done.”
His mother started crying.
Marcus looked at her.
“You knew?”
She couldn't answer.
He stepped backward.
“You all knew?”
His mother whispered:
“Not everything.”
“But you knew she was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something different in his expression.
Not anger.
Not arrogance.
Regret.
But regret was not enough.
Not after nine years.
Not after five children.
Not after the birthdays he missed.
Not after every Christmas morning when my children asked why their father didn't call.
He had missed all of it.
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And now he wanted to feel sorry.
I wasn't going to let him turn his regret into another burden for me.
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