Chapter 3

The day I went to collect my visa, my mom called and asked me to come home.

I figured since this chapter of my life was about to end, seeing my biological mother one last time wouldn't hurt. Perhaps it could count as repaying her for all those years she raised me.

When I arrived, she greeted me warmly, asking how I had been. I responded to everything patiently.

"These past years must've been hard on you," she said, feigning sympathy as she gently patted my hair.

"We couldn't let anyone know you were actually a Clayton. You know how fragile Winifred is. Her depression is serious. I've always been so afraid something would happen to her…"

Of course. Because her depression was so "serious", I even had to give up my husband to her.

My mom knew everything that had gone on between Edgar and Winifred, yet there she was, still pretending. Even the night Winifred staged that suicide scare and begged Edgar to come over, it was my mom who called him and asked him to go.

As she spoke, noise suddenly erupted at the door. "Mom, I'm home!"

My mom's expression changed immediately.

I turned around and saw Winifred standing at the door beside Edgar, who wore a long trench coat.

The moment Edgar saw me, he froze. He instantly pulled away from Winifred, as if that could undo anything.

My mom's voice rose sharply. "Didn't I tell you not to come home today?"

Winifred shrugged with a mischievous smile. "I just missed you."

Her gaze flicked over to me, a slow smile curling on her lips. "Oh, you're here too, Wanda. Edgar and I ran into each other on the way here, so we came back together."

I couldn't help but laugh, staring straight at Edgar. "Ran into each other? Edgar, what reason could you possibly have for coming to my family's house?"

I had always liked asking questions I already knew the answers to, savoring the sting of tearing open old wounds. It was the only way I could keep myself awake—keep myself from going numb.

Edgar stumbled over his words. "I just came to grab something from Joanna. That's all."

My mother jumped in quickly. "Yes, yes, Edgar—I'll get it for you now."

She signaled to the maid, who soon brought down a file folder.

"Here it is. Take it."

Edgar nodded and took it. Then, he turned to me and held my hand. "Wanda, let's go home."

But Winifred chimed in with a syrupy voice, "You two are already here. Why not stay for dinner?"

Edgar's jaw clenched, and his expression darkened. He was about to say no when I stopped him and said calmly, "Sure. Let's have dinner. All of us."

One last meal before the end.

Edgar cleared his throat. "Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom."

He shot Winifred a sharp look, clearly signaling her to follow.

I sat quietly, watching the show unfold. The moment both of them stepped out, I followed them. They headed into the Clayton residence's backyard.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" Edgar growled. His face was red with rage as he grabbed Winifred's wrist. "You brought me here because you knew Wanda would be home."

Winifred's eyes welled up with tears, her voice trembling with hurt. "How would I have known Wanda would be here? Didn't you see me trying to defend you in front of her?"

"Defend me? Don't think I can't see right through you, Winifred. Let's end this. I can't risk what will happen if Wanda finds out." Edgar yanked his hand free from hers, his voice laced with disgust.

That was when panic truly hit Winifred. She clung to him tightly, refusing to let go. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed dramatically, "No! Edgar, I was wrong. I won't do it again, I swear.

"I'll stay in my place, and I'll make sure Wanda never finds out about us. Please don't leave me."

But Edgar's voice had already turned cold. "We're done. You went too far today. I'm taking Wanda home right now, and from now on, don't contact me again."

Edgar shoved her away and turned to leave, but Winifred's voice came sharp and biting behind him, "Fine. Leave me if you want. But are you really just going to abandon your own child?"

"Crispin won't recognize you as his godmother anymore. I'll be taking him with me."

"I'm not talking about Crispin," Winifred said with a twisted smile. She gently placed a hand over her stomach. Her voice softened into something almost tender. "I'm talking about the one inside me. Your child."

Edgar's lips were trembling now.

I stood frozen, nausea climbing up my throat, but nothing would come out.

"When did this happen?" Edgar's lips moved slightly, his voice barely audible. Then, as if something suddenly clicked in his mind, he looked up sharply. "Was it that night?"

I should have seen it coming. Once a man's heart had changed, why would his body remain faithful?

I couldn't take another second. I turned and fled, not waiting to hear the rest. Back inside, my heart was pounding so loudly that it echoed in my ears.

My mom caught sight of my expression and rushed over, alarmed. "Wanda? Are you alright? Did you see something?"

I looked into her face—still so eager to protect Winifred—and simply shook my head.

Moments later, Edgar and Winifred returned, one after the other.

Winifred caught my eye and flashed a coy smile, mouthing, "You saw everything, didn't you?"

So, she had known I was there all along.

I set my fork down and picked up my coat from the couch. "I'm heading home."

Edgar stood up immediately. "Wanda's not feeling well, Mom. We'll be leaving first."

He followed silently behind me as we left the house. When he tried to reach for my hand, I pulled away.

Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and something flickered in his eyes. Still, he answered. "Yeah… I got it."

When he hung up, he looked at me with a conflicted expression. "Darling, something urgent came up at the office. I can't drive you back. You head home first."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and rushed off.

Right then, my phone lit up.

It was a message from Winifred.

It was a photo—her wrist slashed open, with blood everywhere. "Wanda, what do you think? If Edgar finds out I'm trying to kill myself while carrying his baby… do you think he'll still choose you?"

Chapter 4

After Edgar left me that day, he didn't come home for several days.

During that time, Winifred kept posting on her Instagram feed. Each update was vague, but I could tell they were all about Edgar.

That morning, she shared a photo of Edgar's back as he cooked breakfast.

"With such a responsible dad, this baby is going to be so loved."

The comments were filled with messages from our old high school friends and mutual acquaintances.

"Wow, congrats! You're going to be a mom!"

"Why does your husband look so familiar? I swear I've seen that back before."

"Kinda looks like Edgar. Winifred just can't let go of him, huh? She even found a lookalike."

"Don't say that—what if it's actually him?"

"Everyone knows Edgar treats Wanda like she's his whole world. Didn't Winifred give them her blessing at their wedding? Pretty sure she moved on."

…

Today was the day I had planned to leave. I didn't know how to say goodbye. When I looked back at my social circle over the years, there was no one left besides Edgar.

After packing my bags, I looked around the home I had lived in for more than a decade. There was no sadness and no longing.

Just as I was about to leave, I heard a sound at the door. I instinctively hid my suitcase.

Edgar walked in with Crispin. "Darling, I'm back. Did you miss me?" he called out, sounding genuinely happy.

He hugged me, and all I could smell was the scent of Winifred's perfume.

I stayed silent.

Crispin ran up cheerfully. "Mom! Dad bought all kinds of yummy stuff! He said he's making clam chowder for you tonight!"

I remembered now. Back when we first got married, Edgar didn't know how to cook.

Since my health was fragile, I suffered terrible morning sickness during my pregnancy, and it scared him half to death. Near the end of my pregnancy, when I could barely get out of bed, Edgar started learning to cook for me.

His hands were always covered in cuts from the kitchen, but he never complained. "If you like it, I'll cook for you the rest of my life."

He had given me his heart without hesitation. But in the end, it was nothing more than a broken promise.

And I no longer wanted it.

I forced down the tears burning behind my eyes. My voice trembled as I said the final words I would ever say to him as his wife, "Edgar… I want some of that clam chowder."

…

Edgar couldn't quite explain it, but he could feel something was off with me today. The way I looked at him made his chest tighten with dread.

Guilt gnawed at him because deep down, he knew he had done something I might already have found out about.

He hadn't meant to hurt me. What happened with Winifred had been complicated.

Winifred had loved him for decades. Over the years, their constant entanglement had left him with a lingering sense of guilt toward her.

But love was something that couldn't be forced.

He loved me. He had only ever loved me.

At least, until that night.

Winifred had gotten drunk and threatened to kill herself. She had begged Edgar to come see her—just once was all she asked for.

That day, my mother, Joanna Lynch, called Edgar in tears, pleading with him to visit Winifred. She said, "I raised her on my own. I know you and Wanda are happy together. Wanda won't blame you for this. Just… please go see Winifred."

After some hesitation, Edgar still went. He figured he needed to be honest with Winifred and give her closure—something clear to finally end her one-sided obsession.

But when he arrived at her place, he found Winifred unconscious on the floor, passed out from blood loss. He panicked and rushed her to the hospital.

After emergency treatment, Winifred regained consciousness. Tears streamed down her face as she curled into his arms and cried, "Edgar, I have no one else. I only have you. Please don't leave me."

That night, he gave in.

After all, she was still a human being. More than that, she was my younger sister.

Maybe if he stayed with her for a while and kept me in the dark, he could help Winifred through her depression, and perhaps then she would finally get better.

But things spiraled faster than he expected.

One night, Winifred got drunk. She showed up in nothing but a skimpy silk robe, pressing her body against him. "Edgar, someone drugged me. I feel awful…" she moaned.

Winifred was nothing like me. She was bold, seductive, and unapologetically forward. Meanwhile, I had always been soft-spoken, graceful in a quiet way.

Winifred pulled him down by the neck, her perfume thick in the air—sweet and dizzying. Her hair grazed his face, falling across his lips and nose like silk.

"Please, Edgar. I need you."

Perhaps it was the atmosphere, or perhaps it was the alcohol clouding his judgment, but in that moment, he lost control.

He didn't stop her, and they spent the night tangled together.

The morning after, Edgar was filled with regret. But what was done was done. He felt he had no choice but to take responsibility.

Still, he couldn't stop thinking about me. His guilt toward me grew heavier by the day.

He was torn between two women—one he loved and one he owed.

And somehow, Crispin became obsessed with Winifred. He always wanted to visit her and always asked for her, giving Edgar one excuse after another to keep seeing her.

He told himself it was just for Crispin.

Perhaps, after telling the lie so many times, he started to believe it himself.

…

Now, as Edgar snapped back to the present, he found himself staring at me. I was smiling, but it looked more painful than any crying he had ever seen.

A sinking feeling stirred in his gut. Something was slipping through his fingers, something he might never get back.

"Crispin, head to bed now," he said, nudging Crispin toward the hallway.

"Darling, I'll make that chowder. Get some rest in the meantime. I'll call you when it's ready."

"Okay." I nodded with my usual calmness, looking like the girl who always listened to everything he said.

Edgar moved to the kitchen and started prepping. He laid out clams, shrimp, vegetables, and arctic shellfish—filling the counter with everything I used to love.

He moved methodically, chopping, seasoning, and stirring, just like he had so many times before.

His mind wandered. Lately, whenever he cooked, Winifred would sneak up behind him, hug him from behind, and press herself into him. She acted like they were newlyweds in some honeymoon phase.

I had never done that.

For the first time, the thought made him feel… hollow.

An hour later, the table was packed with food, every dish carefully prepared. At the center sat a steaming bowl of clam chowder—my favorite.

"Darling, dinner's ready," he called.

There was no answer.

"Darling?" he called again, louder this time. But still, I didn't respond.

He pushed open the bedroom door and saw Crispin was fast asleep in bed.

But the closet was empty.

Suddenly, my strange behavior over the past few days started making sense.

Panic rose in his chest. He tore through the room, yanking open drawers and searching through boxes. My passport and ID were gone.

The noise woke Crispin.

"Crispin, where's your mom?" Edgar asked, his voice sharp with fear.