Living Only for Each Other

Tidying my son's room, I stumbled upon his blood donor card. The box for blood type was clearly marked: B.

But my husband and I are both type O. How could we have a type B child?

I took the card to my husband, Victor. My usually composed, gentle husband flew into a rage.

Our son is in college, Amelia! What more do you want? You're always so suspicious. Are you having some kind of breakdown?

I insisted on a paternity test. He struck me twice, hard across the face, then stormed out, locking the door from the outside.

Hearing the deadbolt turn, a strange laugh escaped my lips.

Eighteen years of marriage, of selfless devotion, all fed to the dogs.

Calmly, I picked up my phone and dialed the number for my husbands main competitor.

"I'm ready to transfer the patent rights to you."

1.

After hanging up, a wave of desolation washed over me.

Over the years, so many industry giants had extended golden invitations to me.

For Victor and our son, Noah, I'd turned them all down, content to be the ghost in the machine of Stone Enterprises.

I had given Stone Enterprises patents worth billions without ever seeing a dime in dividends. Looking back now, the foolishness of it was staggering.

I sat on the sofa until three in the morning.

Victor didn't come home until the dead of night. We sat in the darkness, a chasm of silence between us.

Wed had good times in those eighteen years.

When he was first starting his company, Id stay up with him, poring over business plans. When I got tired, Id rest my head on his shoulder for a quick nap.

He always used to say, Amelia, when the company makes it big, Ill give you the world.

And the company did make it big.

He was so busy I barely saw him. Hed come home exhausted and collapse into bed.

When I told him the house felt empty, he'd say, "But you have Noah to keep you company."

When I said I wanted to go to a concert, he'd say, "Have my assistant go with you. I just can't get away."

Slowly, I stopped asking.

I thought this was just what marriage became. A slow burn from passion to placid companionship, from romance to the comfort of family.

Now, I realize, perhaps I was the only one who made that transition.

He had transitioned into something else entirely.

At dawn, I rose and went to the kitchen, only to find Victor there. He hadnt cooked in years.

Youre awake? He looked at me, dark circles under his eyes. I made breakfast.

On the table were glasses of milk, toasted bread, and fried eggs, slightly burnt around the edges.

He sat down, and neither of us mentioned the day before.

Noahs coming home next week.

My hand, wrapped around my mug, tensed. "I know."

His voice dropped. Amelia, please, dont overthink this. I promise Ill spend more time with you and Noah from now on.

I looked up at him.

I had looked at this face for eighteen years, watched it morph from youthful ambition to weathered success. I used to be able to tell a real smile from a fake one, to know his joys and his worries with a single glance.

Now, I couldn't see through him at all.

Without meeting his eyes, I asked softly, "When are we doing the paternity test?"

The tenderness on his face froze, then slowly dissolved. Youre really going to force this?

He dropped his fork onto his plate with a sharp clatter.

I suddenly remembered when Noah was little. Everyone said he was the spitting image of Victor. Not a single person ever said he looked like me.

I stood on the balcony and watched his car pull out of the garage. Then, I went to the study.

A set of divorce papers and a property division agreement lay on the desk.

I held one hundred percent of the rights to the patents that had built Stone Enterprises.

But it had been so long, Victor seemed to have forgotten they weren't his.

My phone rang. It was my mother.

Amelia, dear, are you feeling better today? her voice was cheerful. Oh, by the way, your sister is coming back from overseas next week. Victor knew you were feeling down, so he bought Isabelle a ticket. Hes already arranged a director position for her at the company. Its been so long since you two have seen each other. Well all have dinner together next week.

Isabelle.

The name made my eyelid twitch.

She was coming back, and Victor had arranged it.

After all my years of work for the company, I didnt even have a title. But she was waltzing into a directors role the moment she stepped off the plane.

Flashes of memory surfaced. When had Victor and Isabelle become so close?

I pressed my lips together, keeping my voice steady. What time? Ill prepare the food.

No, no! Well bring everything. You just rest, my mother said. She paused. Amelia, listen to me. Be a little warmer to Victor tonight. You know how men are, their egos need stroking.

I didn't want to hear any more. I mumbled a few words and hung up.

Then I opened my phone and scheduled an expedited service with an out-of-state DNA lab. After that, I went to Noahs room and collected a few strands of his hair.

Once the sample was sent off, I messaged a private investigator, asking him to look into all of Victors external financial records.

Twelve hours later, the lab report arrived in my inbox.

I sat in the study, staring at the file for a long time before I clicked it open.

I scrolled straight to the bottom.

Amelia Stone is excluded as the biological mother of Noah Stone.

Even though I had already known the truth in my heart, seeing it in black and white made my hands tremble uncontrollably.

Eighteen years.

The air hitched in my lungs, and the world tilted on its axis. I closed the file and walked to the window.

Outside, it was autumn in Riverton. The leaves of the sycamore trees were turning gold. In the distance, the Ferris wheel at the amusement park turned slowly, and for a moment, I saw the three of us there, happy.

I once believed those were the two people I would protect for the rest of my life.

My phone buzzed. It was the preliminary report from the investigator.

A few bank statement screenshots, several transfer records.

Monthly wire transfers from Victors personal account to an offshore account, a fixed amount, going back at least a decade.

The owner of that offshore account was Isabelle.

The amount wasn't astronomical, but it was more than enough for a very comfortable life abroad.

On the last page, the investigator had added a note.

Ms. Isabelle has a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.

That was the year I found out I was pregnant. The same year Isabelle went abroad.

A horrifying suspicion began to form in my mind.

That weekend, my parents arrived as promised, their arms laden with groceries.

Isabelle followed them, dressed in a chic cream-colored suit, a delicate gift box in her hand.

Sis, she said with a bright smile, moving to hug me. I subtly shifted, and her arms closed on empty air.

Her smile faltered for a second before she recovered smoothly. Its been so long. I brought you a gift.

The dinner table was laden with food. My mother bustled about, while my father and Victor discussed business in the living room.

Isabelle naturally took the seat next to Victor. I frowned but said nothing.

During the meal, Isabelle reached for a dish, revealing a jade bracelet on her wrist.

My gaze froze.

I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. The jade was exquisite, a vibrant, translucent green. I had loved it, but the price made me hesitate.

Victor had said at the time, If you like it, well get it. Money isnt an issue.

Id replied, Its too much. Lets forget it.

When I asked about it later, he said someone else had bought it.

Now, it was on Isabelles wrist.

Sis, what are you looking at? Isabelle noticed my stare and playfully twirled her wrist. Isn't this bracelet lovely? Victor gave it to me. Said it suited me.

Victor, who had been sipping soup, choked slightly and looked up at me. It was a welcome gift, for her new position.

Thats right, thats right, my mother chimed in, smoothing things over. Were all family. Whats wrong with a little gift? Amelia, dont be so petty.

I said nothing, just kept my eyes on Victor.

He looked away.

Isabelle smiled again, her voice soft. Dont misunderstand, sis. I just think some things look better on the right person. Like this bracelet. Doesn't it seem even more radiant on my wrist than it did at the auction house?

As she spoke, her eyes were on Victor.

I knew that look. It was possessive, triumphant. The way a woman looks at her man.

After dinner, Isabelle offered to do the dishes. Victor stood up to help, and they disappeared into the kitchen together.

I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of running water and their low voices. I couldn't make out the words, but I could hear Isabelle's occasional laugh.

My mother sat down beside me. Amelia, look how thoughtful Isabelle is, always willing to help. Shes only back to support Victor. You should stop looking so stern all the time and talk to her more.

My father added his opinion. Victors worked hard to build this company. Having another trusted family member on board is a good thing. As her older sister, you need to be more gracious.

I turned to my father. Dad, Victor is your son-in-law. Isabelle is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're a little too close?

His face darkened. What nonsense are you talking about? We watched Isabelle grow up. Shes like a daughter to us. Whats wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?

Like a daughter? I repeated softly. What if I told you Noah might not be my biological son?

My parents froze.

My mother was the first to react, grabbing my hand. Amelia! You cant say things like that! How could Noah not be your son? Are you having these strange thoughts again?

My father slammed his hand on the table. Thats enough! I think you really have a problem! Victor was right, you need to see a doctor!

Their reaction extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart.

In their eyes, only people like Victor, who brought them tangible benefits, mattered. They had no idea that Victor was only where he was today because of me.

That night, after everyone had left, I told Victor, Im going to the old house for a few days next week. I need to sort through some things.

He didnt ask questions, just nodded. Do you need me to drive you?

No.

The old house was where I lived before I got married. My parents had since moved into a new condo, leaving it empty.

I was in the attic, rummaging through old boxes.

In a worn leather suitcase, I found things Isabelle had left behind. A few diaries, some photos, and a small tin box.

I opened the box. Inside was a stack of letters.

The envelope on top was yellowed with age. It read: To my dearest Victor.

The handwriting was elegant, undeniably Isabelles.

I pulled out the letter.

Victor, you came over to see my sister again today. The way you smile at her breaks my heart. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I love you so much.

I read the next one.

Victor, I heard you two are getting married. My sister is so lucky. If I had met you first, would things be different?

My hands started to shake as I continued.

The last item wasn't a letter. It was a photograph.

In the photo, Isabelle and Victor stood side-by-side under a cherry blossom tree. Her head was resting lightly on his shoulder, one hand protectively on her stomach.

On the back, a line was scrawled in small letters: The one who isnt loved is the other woman.

I clutched the photo, my fingertips turning to ice.

It started so long ago. And I had been the fool, kept in the dark for all these years.

Then where was my real child?

I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the investigator.

Check the birth records and security footage from Riverton General Hospitals maternity ward for June 21st, eighteen years ago, around 3 PM.

Also, pull all of Isabelles records from her time abroad eighteen years ago. Focus on any birth records.

Just then, my phone vibrated. A notification from our smart home app.

Unusual motion detected in living room.

I frowned. Victor should be at the office. The housekeeper had the day off.

I opened the app, and the live feed loaded.

The camera was aimed at the sofa. Isabelle was there.

Victor was leaning back on the cushions, his tie loosened around his neck. Isabelle, now in a slinky, semi-sheer slip dress that clung to her body, was sitting on his lap. Her fingers were slowly, deliberately unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt.

And Victor wasn't pushing her away. Instead, he raised a hand, tracing a line down her hair, his fingers coming to rest on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze.

His breathing was noticeably heavier.

The light cast their entangled shadows on the wall.

I stared at the screen, a cold, nauseating feeling rising in my throat.

Victor, darling, her voice was a husky whisper, practically dripping with seduction. Do you have any idea how much it hurts me every time Noah calls me Auntie? He should be calling me

Isabelle! Victor cut her off sharply, turning his face away from her touch.

But his hand, gripping her wrist, didn't let go.

In that moment, I felt something inside me shatter completely.

What followed was a blur of intimacy I couldn't bear to watch.

I stopped the recording.

I closed the app and threw the phone aside.

My stomach churned violently. I ran to the old bathroom sink and dry-heaved, but nothing came up, only a searing pain that spread from my chest through my entire body.

The phone buzzed incessantly on the bed.

It took me a long while to compose myself enough to look at it.

Message after message from the investigator.

Ms. Stone, I found it.

Isabelle landed in the U.S. in July, eighteen years ago. In August, she gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Los Angeles. Blood type on record is B.

Ive pulled the records from Riverton General for the day you gave birth. Between 3 PM and 5 PM that day, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed, and the archives are lost.

However, when Isabelle returned to the U.S. in November of that year, she was accompanied by a female infant, approximately five months old.

She is currently working under the table at a Chinese restaurant in the area. According to the owner and neighbors, her life is difficult, shes withdrawn, and she often has unexplained bruises. Isabelle collects most of her wages every month through an intermediary.

Photos were attached.

One was of a back alley, a small, thin figure hauling an enormous trash bag.

Another showed her in the corner of the restaurant, huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers, her face blank.

The most recent was a close-up of an arm covered in bruises.

My daughter. So far away, doing the hardest work, getting beaten, and the money she earned went to the woman who stole her life.

A tidal wave of hatred consumed me.

I stood up, and the world went black for a few seconds.

I braced myself against the wall, my nails digging into my palms. The pain brought me back.

I cried for a long time, until the tears ran dry, leaving only a raw, burning ache in my chest.

I forwarded all the files, including the video footage, to my lawyer. Then I called Victor's rival company.

The patent authorization can be signed tomorrow. But I have one condition. Stone Enterprises has to go bankrupt.

A low chuckle came from the other end, a cool, male voice filled with confidence.

Consider it done.

Hanging up, I looked at the evidence on my phone.

Victor, the higher I built you up, the harder I'm going to make you fall. On the flight to Los Angeles, I barely slept.

New information from the investigator revealed my daughters registered name was Anna.

She worked at a restaurant in Chinatown, living in a windowless basement room in the alley behind it.

In the photos, she was alarmingly thin. At eighteen, she had the weary eyes of a forty-year-old.

What broke my heart were the bruises and marks on her arms, a patchwork of old and new.

The plane landed in the early hours. I rented a car and drove straight to Chinatown.

At seven in the morning, the restaurant was still closed, the back alley piled with last nights trash.

A girl in a faded T-shirt and worn-out jeans emerged, carrying two enormous black trash bags.

She was so frail, the bags seemed to crush her.

Her face had several faint scars from what looked like burns, but I recognized her instantly.

She had my face.

She struggled to heave the bags into the dumpster, then stood by a utility sink, washing her hands. The water was cold; she shivered and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

In that instant, she looked up.

Our eyes met through the car window.

She froze, a flicker of confusion in her eyes, before she quickly looked down and turned to go back inside.

Wait! I pushed the car door open, my voice trembling.

The girl stopped and looked back at me, her eyes wary and distant.

Are you Anna? I approached her, trying to keep my voice steady.

Who are you? Her voice was quiet, raspy from disuse.

I opened my mouth, but my throat was tight. I came from back home.

Do you know Isabelle? Her gaze turned icy. What does she want now? I already sent this months money.

No, its not her. I took a deep breath. Im Amelia Stone. Im your real

Before I could finish, a harsh voice bellowed from inside the restaurant.