Chapter 1 - The Twenty-Dollar Bill
My fiancée threw a twenty-dollar bill at my ex-wife’s feet and said, “Here. Buy some formula.”
I wish I could say that was the moment I realized I had made the biggest mistake of my life.
It wasn’t.
The truth is, I was still too blind.
I was still sitting behind the wheel of my black Mercedes on a quiet country road outside Franklin, Tennessee, listening to Tessa Whitmore laugh beside me while the woman I had once promised to love stood barefoot in the dust.
Maren.
My ex-wife.
The woman I had convinced myself had betrayed me.
The woman I had publicly blamed for the collapse of our marriage.
The woman my mother called a thief.
The woman my friends called unstable.
The woman I had stopped defending because defending her meant admitting I might have been wrong.
And there she was.
With two babies strapped against her chest.
Twins.
I couldn’t explain why my lungs suddenly stopped working.
They were tiny.
Maybe four months old.
Both boys.
Both sleeping peacefully against Maren, their pale-blue blankets tucked around their bodies.
Their little faces were almost identical.
Soft cheeks.
Small mouths.
Wisps of blond hair beneath their knitted caps.
My father had blond hair.
So did I.
And as irrational as the thought was, something deep in my chest whispered:
Mine.
“Stop staring,” Tessa said.
I looked at her.
She was still smiling.
Her diamond ring caught the afternoon sunlight and flashed like a signal.
Our wedding was three weeks away.
Three weeks.
For the last year, Tessa had been beside me through every board meeting, every charity dinner, every magazine article about my recovery after the divorce.
Everyone loved our story.
The broken CEO who had finally found a good woman.
That was what the papers said.
The first wife had betrayed him.
The second woman had saved him.
I had believed it.
God help me, I had believed it.
Then Tessa saw Maren.
“Isn’t that her?”
Her voice carried amusement instead of surprise.
My stomach tightened.
I hit the brakes.
The Mercedes rolled to a stop.
Maren turned at the sound.
She looked different.
The Maren I remembered had worn tailored dresses, delicate gold jewelry, and expensive shoes.
This Maren wore faded jeans.
A gray sweatshirt.
Old sandals.
Her brown hair was tied carelessly behind her head.
A canvas bag hung from one shoulder.
Beside her was a large sack full of crushed cans.
She looked exhausted.
But when her eyes met mine, I forgot everything else.
There was no hatred there.
No desperation.
No bitterness.
Only pity.
That was what hurt.
Not anger.
Pity.
As though she knew something about me that I didn't know about myself.
Tessa slowly lowered the window.
“Well, well.”
“Tessa,” I said.
She ignored me.
“Maren.”
Maren didn't answer.
She simply adjusted the blanket around one of the babies.
Tessa laughed.
“Looks like life really worked out for you.”
I frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“What?”
“You're being cruel.”
She looked at me in mock surprise.
“Cruel?”
Then she turned toward Maren.
“I heard you were doing better.”
Maren finally spoke.
Her voice was quiet.
“I am.”
Tessa blinked.
She hadn't expected that.
Maren didn't sound ashamed.
She sounded tired.
Tessa reached into her purse.
I thought she was going to pull out her phone.
Instead, she produced a twenty-dollar bill.
“Here.”
She flicked it through the open window.
The bill landed in the dirt.
“Buy some formula.”
My entire body went cold.
“Tessa.”
Maren looked down at the money.
Then back at me.
She didn't move.
She didn't bend to pick it up.
She simply looked into my eyes.
And that look stayed with me.
A strange sadness.
A terrible kind of kindness.
Like she was watching a man walk toward a cliff and knew there was no way to stop him.
“Have a nice life, Rowan,” she said.
Then she walked away.
I stared after her.
Tessa laughed.
“Honestly, I can't believe you still care.”
“I don't.”
The lie came out automatically.
She leaned against the seat.
“Good.”
I started the engine.
But something had changed.
I couldn't explain what.
As we drove away, I looked into the rearview mirror.
Maren grew smaller and smaller behind us.
The twins were still against her chest.
Two boys.
Two blond heads.
And I couldn't stop thinking about the timing.
My divorce had been finalized fourteen months ago.
If those babies were four months old...
No.
Impossible.
I had been told Maren could not have children.
Or rather, that was what I remembered.
The doctors had said she was under enormous stress.
There had been complications.
I vaguely remembered something about a miscarriage.
But the divorce papers had been clear.
She hadn't been pregnant when we separated.
At least that was what I had believed.
“Tessa.”
“What?”
“How old are those babies?”
She turned toward me.
“Why?”
“Just answer.”
She shrugged.
“Who cares?”
“How old?”
“Maybe four months.”
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
The car drifted slightly.
“Rowan?”
“I'm fine.”
She laughed.
“You're acting weird.”
I didn't answer.
For the next hour, I drove without saying another word.
At sunset, I dropped Tessa at the mansion.
“I have to go back into town,” I told her.
“For work?”
“Yes.”
She leaned through my open window and kissed my cheek.
“Don't stay too late.”
I watched her walk inside.
Then I drove.
I didn't know where I was going.
I only knew I could not go home.
Eventually, I pulled into a diner parking lot.
I turned off the engine.
The silence inside the car was unbearable.
I stared at my hands.
I remembered Maren's face.
That pity.
Why would she pity me?
I pulled out my phone.
Her number was still saved.
I had never deleted it.
I stared at it for several minutes.
Then I called.
The number had been disconnected.
I tried again.
Nothing.
I sat there until the sun disappeared.
Then I remembered something.
Three years earlier, when the divorce had become ugly, I'd hired a private investigator named Glenn Mercer.
Glenn had provided the evidence.
Hotel photographs.
Bank records.
A necklace.
Statements from employees.
Everything had pointed to Maren cheating on me with a man named Daniel Foster.
She had denied it.
I hadn't believed her.
I had chosen Tessa.
But something about the babies had cracked open a door in my memory.
A door I had kept locked.
I drove straight to Glenn's office.
He wasn't happy to see me.
When I entered, he looked up sharply.
“Mr. Bellamy.”
“I need the original divorce investigation.”
His expression changed.
“That case was closed.”
“I know.”
“Why now?”
“Because I asked you for evidence three years ago.”
“And?”
“I want the originals.”
He stood.
“I don't think that's necessary.”
I walked toward his desk.
“Glenn.”
My voice was quiet.
“Give me the files.”
He stared at me.
Then something in my expression must have convinced him.
Because he slowly opened a locked cabinet.
He pulled out a thick box.
Dust covered the top.
I placed it on his desk.
My heart was pounding.
“Where are the photographs?”
“Inside.”
“And the financial records?”
“Everything is there.”
I opened the box.
The first folder contained hotel photographs.
Maren entering a hotel.
Maren standing near Daniel.
Maren's car parked outside.
I looked at the images.
Then something caught my attention.
The timestamp.
The hotel photograph was dated March 14.
Maren's phone records showed she had been in Nashville that night.
I looked up.
“Who verified these?”
Glenn swallowed.
“I did.”
“From what source?”
He hesitated.
“Hotel security.”
“Original footage?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
I pulled out the next document.
Bank transfers.
A recurring payment.
$15,000.
$22,000.
$35,000.
I read the sender.
Tessa Whitmore.
My stomach dropped.
“What is this?”
Glenn didn't speak.
I looked at him.
“Why was Tessa paying you?”
He closed his eyes.
“Mr. Bellamy…”
“Answer me.”
“She hired me.”
The room went silent.
“She hired you to investigate Maren?”
“She contacted me.”
“For what?”
“At first, background information.”
“And then?”
He swallowed.
“She wanted evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“Anything that would end your marriage.”
I stared at him.
“How much?”
He didn't answer.
“How much did she pay you?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
I stepped back.
I felt like someone had punched me.
“No.”
“She wanted you angry enough to divorce Maren.”
“For what reason?”
“I don't know.”
“Glenn.”
He looked away.
“She said Maren was dangerous.”
I laughed.
A terrible, broken sound.
“Dangerous?”
“That was all I knew.”
I opened another folder.
There was a necklace.
Photographed on a hotel bed.
A caption beneath it.
Jewelry found in Maren's possession.
I remembered that necklace.
I had accused Maren of stealing it from Tessa.
But the photograph suddenly looked wrong.
Too perfect.
The clasp.
The lighting.
The placement.
I turned the page.
The next report contained a witness statement.
A hotel employee claiming he saw Maren with Daniel.
Then I found the payment.
The employee had received $5,000 from a company owned by Tessa's father.
My hands went numb.
I pulled out the final folder.
A birth record.
I opened it.
My world stopped.
Twin boys.
Ethan Bellamy.
Evan Bellamy.
Father: Rowan James Bellamy.
Mother: Maren Elise Bellamy.
I stared.
My knees nearly gave out.
“No.”
Glenn said nothing.
I looked at the date.
Four months earlier.
I couldn't breathe.
The twins were mine.
I had children.
Two sons.
And I had never known.
I sat down hard in the chair.
“What happened?”
Glenn was silent.
“What happened to Maren?”
“I don't know.”
“You gave me the divorce evidence.”
“Yes.”
“You helped me destroy my marriage.”
“Yes.”
“You told me she was sleeping with another man.”
“Yes.”
“It was fake.”
“Yes.”
I leaned forward.
“Who told you to do it?”
“Tessa.”
The word felt like poison.
I grabbed the last sheet.
There was a handwritten note attached to it.
The handwriting was uneven.
Someone had written quickly.
“If Rowan ever finds out about the twins, make sure he never learns what happened to the third baby.”
I read it twice.
Then again.
My throat closed.
“Third baby?”
Glenn looked terrified.
“I don't know.”
I stood.
“You know something.”
“I don't.”
“Glenn.”
“I swear.”
“Who wrote this?”
He shook his head.
“I received it with the file.”
“From whom?”
“I don't know.”
I stared at him.
“Where is the rest?”
“There was another file.”
“Where?”
“It disappeared.”
“When?”
“About eleven months ago.”
My heart pounded.
“Eleven months ago?”
“Yes.”
“Who accessed the cabinet?”
He hesitated.
“Tessa.”
I closed my eyes.
Everything inside me felt like it was collapsing.
My marriage.
My engagement.
My memories.
The woman I thought I loved.
The woman I thought betrayed me.
The children I didn't know existed.
And one missing baby.
I left Glenn's office at 11:48 p.m.
I drove toward Franklin without knowing where I was going.
At a red light, I finally stopped.
I looked at the passenger seat.
Tessa's purse had been there earlier that afternoon.
Her twenty-dollar bill was still in my mind.
I remembered Maren's eyes.
That pity.
Suddenly, I understood it.
She wasn't pitying the man who had lost his wife.
She was pitying the man who didn't know what his wife had endured.
I turned the car around.
I was going to find Maren.
I didn't care if it took all night.
I didn't care what she thought of me.
I didn't care whether she hated me.
I needed the truth.
Because tonight I had discovered something far more terrifying than an affair.
I had been lied to.
May you like
For an entire year.
And my children had paid the price.
