His Secret Son Lives Downstairs

On Christmas Eve, the sixth year of our marriage, the family was having dinner.

George's father, whose dementia was advancing, suddenly spoke up out of the blue:

Did you prepare the savings bond for my grandson?

I miss him so much. It's a shame hes not with us for the holidays this year.

George was an only child, and we had only one daughter, Ruby, who was five.

I froze, assuming the old man was just confused again. I laughed gently and explained:

Dad, George and I only have one daughter, Ruby. Where would a grandson come from?

Right, honey?

George was holding his fork, and he mumbled an unnatural acknowledgement.

Before I could process it, I heard his father say again:

Its the grandson. George took me to see him. He lives right downstairs.

I went still.

There was someone living downstairs: a newly moved-in single mother.

And she did have a childa five-year-old boy.

After a brief, suffocating silence, I put down my napkin, walked into the kitchen, and pulled a pan of warm rolls out of the oven. Smiling at George, who was just about to stammer out an explanation, I said:

You two go on and eat. Im going to take a basket of these rolls down to the new neighbor downstairs.

From closing the kitchen door to stepping into the elevator, I took exactly thirty seconds.

Thirty seconds later, I was standing outside the apartment of the woman who, according to my father-in-law, housed his five-year-old grandson.

Knock. Knock.

Who is it?

The door opened.

A woman younger than me, with a low, slightly messy braid, stood in the entryway. She looked pale, trying for a veneer of confused innocence.

My gut told me immediately: She was the one.

As soon as she saw me, her composure shattered.

Her face went a shocking white, and her hands began to shake uncontrollably, as if I were some kind of nightmare she had tried to suppress.

C-can I help you?

A boy ran up behind her.

Mommy, who is it?

Go back to your room!

The woman shrieked, her voice shaking with panic.

Yet, she had the nerve to live one floor below me, separated from my home, my husband, and my daughter by only a thin layer of concrete.

Im your upstairs neighbor.

I cut straight to the chase, right in front of her child.

I was curious. My father-in-law mentioned that your son is his beloved grandson.

The woman's hand instantly tightened on the doorknob. Her eyes, filled with dread, darted back to her curious son, before she forced a thin smile and offered her explanation.

Oh, that. Its because I ran into your husband when I was picking my son up from kindergarten one day.

She struggled over the word husband, and I caught the flicker of deep resentment in her eyes.

He told me your father-in-law is very ill and dreams of having a grandson, so he specially asked me to play a part, just to fulfill the old mans wish.

Im truly sorry if this has caused you any trouble.

It was an impeccably airtight explanation. It not only cleared her name but also subtly threw shade at me for failing to give the old man a grandson.

I might have believed her if I hadnt noticed the framed photo on the wall behind her.

It was a picture of a seemingly perfect family of three, standing beneath the twinkling lights of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.

The mans face was blurred, deliberately obscured.

The woman, however, was clearly the one standing in front of me.

I zeroed in on the photo. The date printed on the corner was January 8thmy daughter Rubys fifth birthday.

George had told me he had a mandatory, last-minute business trip and couldnt make it home from the airport.

Apparently, his business trip was a photo shoot under the most romantic holiday display in New York.

I glanced down at the entryway again.

In the shoe cabinet, a pair of mens size 11 Italian leather loafers were tucked intimately beside the womans nude stilettos, glaringly close.

I remembered clearly: George wore a size 11.

My hand, holding the basket of warm rolls, clenched until my knuckles were white. I forced myself to act nonchalant and handed the basket to her.

Happy Holidays, I said.

Th-thank you.

The woman nervously reached out. A flash of gold on her wrist burned my eyes.

It was a gold bangle, identical to the one I was wearing.

Thats a beautiful bangle is it solid gold?

I stared at her wrist, my heart hammering.

Because I knew that the one on my wrist was fake.

Georges words echoed back to me:

Sophia, the price of gold is crazy right now. Its not a smart buy. Ill get you a gold-plated one for nowa placeholder. When the market dips, Ill buy you the real one.

He had sounded so sincere.

I hadnt thought twice, happily accepting the cheaper substitute.

Id even posted about it on Instagram:

A million dollars is nothing compared to your truth.

Thinking of that post, which was still pinned to the top of my profile, my smile nearly cracked.

The womans face, already pale, went completely ashen.

But then, a look of haughty defiance flashed in her eyes. Her chin tilted up slightly, a deliberate challenge.

Of course, its real. George took me to the jewelry district himself to pick it out. Its a full fifty grams of solid gold.

He said that even though gold is expensive, if I love it, the money is never an issue.

Unlike some people who settle for a gold-plated token. A woman has to treat herself well, dont you agree?

I nodded, a soft laugh escaping me.

Youre absolutely right.

Happy Holidays.

With that, I placed the basket in her trembling hands and turned, walking toward the elevator.

I didnt go back upstairs. I went straight down to the complexs private garden.

From there, I called my father, who was still at his office in Manhattan.

He was the CEO of Harrington Global, and Georges direct, though distant, boss.

Dad, Im changing my mind.

I deleted the Instagram post bragging about Georges devotion. My voice was unnervingly calm.

Cancel the Senior Vice President role you were planning to give George, and cancel the private medical team for his father. Get me the best divorce lawyer in the state. Im leaving George.

Yes, hes cheating.

And the child is the same age as Ruby.

When I returned to my fathers penthouse, George must have gotten a frantic call from the woman downstairs.

He had visibly relaxed.

Since I hadn't made a scene, he clearly assumed his affair was still safely hidden.

Just as foolish as I used to be.

Using a vague excusethat my father wanted to see Ruby for a few daysI bundled my daughter up and we left.

George didnt suspect a thing. He walked us to the car downstairs, playing the part of the devoted father perfectly.

But I still noticed it.

After seeing us off, the elevator stopped on the second floor.

Her apartment.

Mommy.

Ruby leaned her soft cheek against mine, confused.

Why did the elevator stop on the second floor? We live on the third floor.

I smiled faintly, touching my forehead to her hair, my voice colder than the winter air.

Because Daddy is going to do something bad. And soon, we wont need this home anymore.

That evening, after Id tucked Ruby into bed, my father called me into his study.

His tone was heavy, laced with the heartache of knowing his daughter had been betrayed.

I told you the minute I met George that he wasnt worth it. But you were stubborn and insisted on marrying beneath you.

Look at the mess hes made.

I pursed my lips, picking up the folder on the desk and opening it.

One hundred twenty pages. Every page was irrefutable evidence of Georges infidelity.

2021. The night before our wedding.

While I was in the bridal suite, chatting with my maid of honor, sleepless with excitement for my life with George, he was in a dive bar, meeting a bottle service girl named Brooke. They were in love at first sight.

From meeting to sleeping together, it took them two hours.

He couldn't even wait for our wedding night to pass.

2022. I was pregnant.

I was throwing up constantly from morning sickness, unable to keep anything down.

George, claiming to be at a mandatory corporate training seminar, was across town at an OB/GYN, accompanying that girl to her prenatal appointments.

2023. Our daughters first birthday.

We threw a huge party. George gave her a pair of miniature gold bangles, symbols of luck and safety.

Now, the lab report in the file explicitly stated: Gold plated. Silver core.

Another lie.

And then 2024, 2025, 2026

A huge, frigid void opened up in my chest.

It wasnt just the shock of George cheating. It was the realization that he didnt even love our daughter.

Yet, when she was born, George was the one who personally named her Rubymeaning precious gem.

Trembling, I closed the file.

My phone vibrateda notification from our home security app.

I had secretly activated the apartment camera before leaving.

On the video feed, the Christmas dinner I had spent all day preparing was still steaming on the table.

My father-in-law sat at the head of the table, nervously pulling out the huge gift card he had prepared, slipping it into Brookes sons hand.

Happy Holidays, my good boy.

George had his arm around Brooke, and they were feeding each other, a disgustingly intimate picture of domestic bliss.

Suddenly, Brooke glanced at her son, who was absorbed in counting his money, and spoke:

George, my mom is nagging me again to bring you home. She doesnt know about us. I cant hide it much longer.

Since your wife is at her parents place, why dont you host my family for a holiday dinner tomorrow?

It would stop my relatives from whispering that Cody is a bastard.

George frowned, hesitating.

He finally picked up his phone and sent me a text.

Honey, how long are you staying with your dad?

Should I bring you some toiletries?

My phone screen was split.

One side showed my husband and his mistress planning their faux family dinner.

The other showed Georges pathetic attempt at a check-in.

I didnt hesitate. I tapped out a response:

No need. Dad and I are heading to our summer house tomorrow to see some extended family. Won't be back for a few days.

The message was sent. The next second, I got his reply.

Okay, sweetie. You enjoy your time with your dad. Don't worry about things here.

Tell Ruby her daddy loves her.

In the concurrent camera feed, George leaned in and gave Brooke a hard, satisfying kiss on the cheek.

Fine. Dinner tomorrow, then!

Brooke smiled. I smiled, too.

A holiday dinner, you say?

If George was hosting, it wouldnt be so strange for his lawful wife to attend, would it?

The next day, The Peninsula Hotel.

My father had called the manager early, arranging for us to be placed in the adjoining private dining room.

Through the hidden serving window, I could clearly hear every sound and movement next door.

George, true to form, sent a probing text the moment I sat down.

Wife, where are you now? Did you see the relatives? Are the roads safe?

I knew he was testing me.

On the freeway. Traffic jam. Wont get to the summer house until tonight.

I texted back dismissively.

The chat showed him typing, followed by a small cat emoji indicating acknowledgement.

Stolen from Brooke, I guessed.

I frowned in disgust and didn't reply.

At that moment, the party next door started to arrive.

Leading the way were George, in a sharp suit, and Brooke, holding the hand of the little boy, who was wearing the same style of gold bangle as my daughter.

They looked like an enviably happy family of three.

Next came a pair of elderly, distinctly academic-looking parents.

Then, three or four other relatives clustered together.

Brooke gracefully ushered everyone to their seats, proudly introducing George by her side.

Mom, Dad, this is George. Ive told you about him. My husband.

Hes been working overseas, but he made a special effort to come back this year so he could spend the holidays with you.

George nodded with a practiced reserve, and followed up with a greeting.

Hello, Mom and Dad. Its a pleasure.

In our dining room, Ruby tugged on my hand, her large eyes filled with confusion and fear.

Mommy, who is Daddy calling? Why did that lady say Daddy is her husband?

And why is that boy wearing the same bangle as me? Daddy said he only gave one to me.

I stroked her head reassuringly, saying nothing.

Next door, Brookes mother beamed, taking Georges hand.

Good, good. Our Brooke was so secretive about you before. We thought

George, her father and I have been teachers all our lives. We value character above all else. Seeing you here today puts my mind at ease.

At these words, Brookes face instantly tightened.

I knew she felt a prick of guilt.

Then, Brookes father spoke up, patting Georges shoulder.

George, your mother and I dont have any grand wishes, just that our daughter finds happiness and doesn't make any foolish mistakes.

Seeing you two so happy as a family today, I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders.

As they spoke, both elderly parents eyes grew red-rimmed.

It was obvious that Brookes five years of single motherhood had been a source of immense social pressure for them.

Alright, alright, why are we getting sentimental on Christmas?

Brookes aunt chuckled, breaking the heavy atmosphere.

Our little Brooke has always been a good girl. Shed never be like those shameless women out there in society, would she? Brother, Sister-in-law, you worry too much.

Right, Brooke?

No amount of foundation could hide the awkward flush on Brookes face. She nodded stiffly.

Yes, Aunt is right.

Exactly. Brother, don't overthink it. You and Sister-in-law have been teachers your whole lives. Of course, you raised a good daughter.

Brookes uncle added, laughing.

The atmosphere was becoming warmly convivial.

Everyone was laughing, except for the hosts.

Through the hidden window, I could clearly see that Brooke was gripping Georges hand so tightly her knuckles were white.

So terrified, yet she still chose to be the other woman?

I gave a small, cold laugh. Slowly, I took Rubys hand, stood up, and walked out, stopping at the door of the adjoining private dining room.

Inside, Brookes relatives were pushing for a wedding.

George, since youre back in the country and the boy is growing up, when are you two getting married? It would settle my and her fathers hearts.

Brookes mother asked expectantly.

Yes, Ive already prepared the dowry. As long as you and our daughter are happy, well do anything.

Brookes father smiled.

Exactly. I think the tenth of next month looks good.

The fifteenth works, too. Theyre both lucky days.

The relatives chatted excitedly, completely missing the fact that George and Brookes faces had gone from pale to green.

Wait a moment.

Finally, George couldnt help but interrupt them.

Brooke and I cant get married yet. Because

Because hes already married, and his child is five years old. And Brooke is the woman he cheated with.

I pushed the door open, leading my daughter inside.

Honey, tell me Im wrong?

The expressions on George and Brookes faces froze.