His Secret Son, My Perfect Revenge

The day I went to apply for my daughters passport.

On our official family vital records, besides my daughter, there was a five-year-old son listed under my husband's dependents.

As the clerk pulled up our family's official records, she frowned.

Ma'am, are you only applying for your daughter's passport? Does your son not need one too?

I froze.

"There must be a mistake," I said with an awkward laugh.

The clerk turned the computer screen toward me.

"It's written right here. Child: Male, Age 5."

My mind went completely blank.

But Julian and I only had one daughter, Lily. So where had this five-year-old son come from?

......

Five years old.

I stared at the birth date on the screen, my nails digging deep into my palms.

That was the year I was still chasing down clients for him while eight months pregnant, trying to help his startup secure its first major contract.

One afternoon, at a highway rest stop, I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my stomach. Blood flowed down my legs, soaking the concrete.

After six hours of emergency surgery, the baby was gone. My uterus was severely damaged.

The doctor told me I could never have children again.

Julian cried like a child by my hospital bed, clutching my hand. "Chloe, having Lily is enough. I just need you to be okay."

I was deeply moved, sobbing in his arms.

At that moment, I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world.

Julian and I had been together since college.

Back then, he was dirt poor. In the freezing winter, he wore a thin windbreaker and couldn't even afford a warm cup of coffee.

My parents vehemently opposed our marriage. I fought with them for a whole year until they finally gave in.

After we got married, he prepared surprises for me on every holiday. He remembered everything I liked. He never even raised his voice at me.

My friends always joked that I must have won the husband lottery to marry such a perfect man.

If someone told me Julian had built another family behind my back, I would never have believed them.

My phone buzzed.

The caller ID read "Husband."

I took a deep breath and answered.

"Hey, Chloe. Where are you?"

"Applying for Lily's passport," I replied, my voice shockingly calm.

There was a two-second silence on the other end.

"Is it done?"

His voice sounded slightly tense.

"No. I forgot my ID. I wasted a trip."

He clearly let out a sigh of relief, his tone instantly brightening.

"Then come home quickly. Today is our eighth anniversary. I booked that French restaurant you love. I rented out the entire floor."

He really did rent out the whole place.

The floor was covered in rose petals, candles were arranged in a heart shape, and a violinist was playing our favorite college song.

Julian wore a custom suit. Holding a wine glass, he walked over and kissed my forehead in front of the waiters.

"Happy anniversary, honey. Eight years. Thank you for staying by my side all this time."

I raised my glass and took a sip.

"Julian, what do you think is the most important thing in a marriage?"

"Trust," he answered without a second thought.

"Then, are you keeping anything from me?"

"Of course not," he replied smoothly.

Seeing that I didn't say anything else, he set his glass down and held my hand, his eyes filled with sincerity.

"Chloe, in this life, I will only love you and Lily. Anyone might lie to you, but never me."

I smiled. "Of course I trust you."

But inside, my heart was screaming. Because when he answered, he subconsciously touched his nose.

He only did that when he was lying.

The words from the records flashed in my mind: *Son, five years old.*

Was this boy really his child?

2.

That night, while Julian was showering, I searched his study.

Drawers, cabinets, the safeI checked them all.

Nothing.

No secret credit cards, no copies of property deeds.

I secretly unlocked his phone. There wasn't a single suspicious text.

It was too clean.

Not long after we lay down in bed, his phone vibrated.

Julian rolled over, glanced at the screen, and sat up instantly.

He moved so fast he nearly ripped the blanket off me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice feigning sleepiness.

"The company servers crashed. I have to go in."

He got dressed faster than he ever did for work.

Before leaving, he kissed my forehead. Once he was sure I was still "asleep," he quietly closed the bedroom door.

I counted to thirty, then got up.

Without turning on my headlights, I followed his car, keeping about two hundred yards behind him.

His car didn't head toward his company.

Instead, he got on the highway, drove through several neighborhoods, and finally stopped in front of a luxury apartment building in the East District.

I parked on the curb and slipped inside.

The lobby lights were bright.

A woman was standing there with a little boy, waiting.

The boy, wearing blue pajamas, was rubbing his eyes and yawning. The moment he saw Julian step out of the car, he ran toward him with open arms.

"Daddy!"

Julian scooped him up, spinning him around in the air.

I stared at the smile on his face.

He had never smiled at Lily like that.

The woman turned and said something to him.

When I saw her face, I froze.

It was Evelyn.

Julian's executive assistant.

My brain suddenly fast-forwarded, bringing back all the memories I had overlooked.

At the company's annual party, Leo had fallen off a chair and cut his lip. Julian had abandoned a table of major clients and rushed over, his face pale with worry.

At the time, I thought he was just a kind-hearted boss who pitied a single mother.

And last month, when Leo came over to play and wanted Lily's limited-edition doll.

When Lily refused to give it to him, Julian lost his temper and screamed at her right in front of Evelyn.

If I hadn't stepped in, he would have hit her.

Afterward, he told me, "Kids need to learn to share. Don't spoil her."

And I believed him, thinking he was just being a strict father.

The elevator doors opened.

Julian shifted Leo to his left arm and wrapped his right arm around Evelyn's waist.

The three of them disappeared into the elevator.

Just as the doors closed, I heard Leos voice fade out: "Daddy, will you take me to school tomorrow?"

"Of course, buddy."

I didn't even know how I walked back to my car.

I sat in the driver's seat, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.

The words on the family record flashed in my mind again.

*Son, five years old.*

This wasn't an accident. This wasn't a one-time mistake.

This was cold, calculated planning.

From the moment the boy was born, to registering him, to buying the apartment, to settling them down just twenty minutes away from our house.

He had planned every single step.

I buried my face in the steering wheel, crying silently.

Outside the window, the apartment window lit up.

That was the home Julian built for them.

While the house I lived in for eight years was nothing but a sham.

3.

After that day, I acted as if nothing had happened, remaining the same sweet, gentle wife.

But in secret, I began gathering evidence.

I hired a private investigator to dig up the boy's birth certificate and the apartment's purchase agreement.

When Julian wasn't paying attention, I accessed his phone to pull his bank transfer records.

For an entire month, I was chillingly calm.

Until that night.

A massive rainstorm hit the city.

At 10:40 PM, Lilys weak voice called out, "Mommy, I can't breathe..."

I bolted upright, ran out of bed without even putting on shoes, and rushed into her room.

She was curled up on the bed, her chest heaving violently, her lips turning blue.

My hands shook so badly I could barely type. I called Julian.

First call, no answer.

Second call, no answer.

Third call, fourth call.

On the fifth call, he finally picked up.

"What is it? I'm in an important video conference," he whispered, his voice laced with annoyance.

Before I could speak, a woman's voice came through the receiver.

"Julian, Leo is scared of the thunder. Come back to bed."

It was Evelyn.

I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning white.

"Julian, Lily is having a severe asthma attack. She can't breathe, and her face is turning blue..."

"She always gets like that," he cut me off, dismissive. "Just give her her inhaler. Don't overreact."

"It's really bad this time! We need to go to the hospital"

A second of silence.

Then, dial tone.

He hung up and turned off his phone.

I threw my phone onto the floor and rushed back to Lily.

She was starting to twitch.

Without thinking, I scooped her up.

She weighed almost fifty pounds, but I carried her and ran out into the pouring rain without even grabbing an umbrella.

The rain was blinding. I ran five red lights on the way.

From the hospital parking lot to the ER was less than two hundred yards.

Halfway there, I slipped on the wet concrete and fell hard.

As my knees slammed into the ground, I wrapped my arms around Lily, shielding her body with mine.

Blood mixed with rainwater, pouring down my knees.

Ignoring the pain, I scrambled back up and kept running.

When the doctor took Lily from my arms, his face was grim.

"Ten minutes later, and the lack of oxygen would have caused permanent brain damage."

The ER doors shut.

A nurse handed me a critical condition notice, telling me to sign it.

My hand shook so badly I ruined the signature three times.

Finally, I had to hold the pen with both hands, using all my strength just to write my name.

I sat alone in the sterile corridor.

The blood on my knees had dried, gluing my pants to the open wounds. Every movement was agonizing.

At midnight, I leaned against the wall and scrolled through my phone.

A notification popped up. It was Evelyn's Instagram update.

The photo showed the silhouette of a man sitting by a child's bed.

The caption read: "Leo is the happiest boy to have his daddy protecting him on a stormy night."

I knew that silhouette all too well.

Two hours later, the doctor came out.

"She's out of danger. You can go in now."

I walked inside.

Lily lay on the hospital bed, wearing a nebulizer mask, looking pale and exhausted.

Seeing me, she reached out her tiny hand and whispered, "Mommy..."

I squeezed her hand, forcing my tears back.

Leaving the room briefly, I sent Julian a text message.

"Julian, let's get a divorce."

4.

Julian didn't show up until the next afternoon.

When the ward door pushed open, Lily had just finished her nebulizer treatment. She was huddled under the blanket, looking as fragile as a stray kitten.

He was holding a pink Barbie box, wearing that same doting look he had worn for the past eight years.

"Hey, princess, Daddy's here."

He walked over to the bed, reaching out to pat her head.

"I really couldn't get away last night. Look, I bought you your favorite doll to make it up to you."

Lily stared at the pink box but didn't reach for it.

"I don't want a doll. I want my dad."

Julian froze. He placed the box on the nightstand and leaned down. "Isn't Daddy right here?"

"Daddy, do you not love me anymore?"

"Of course I do! Why would you say"

"But you haven't played with me in so long." Her voice was tiny, as if she was afraid of being heard. "And you forgot... I hate pink."

Pink.

Evelyns Instagram was filled with pink.

Pink toys, pink flowers, pink balloons. He couldn't even keep track of which child liked what anymore.

Julian's hand hovered in mid-air.

I sat in the armchair, watching him silently.

He stood up straight, his face darkening as he turned to look at me.

"Is this how you teach our kid? To be this ungrateful? I work myself to the bone to make money for this family, and this is what I get?"

I stared at him, pulled out the copy of the family records from my bag, and slapped it against his chest.

"For this family? Or for your son?"

Julian's face drained of color in an instant.

The Barbie box slipped from his hand, crashing onto the floor and splitting open.

"Chloe, let me explain," he stammered, his voice trembling. "Its not what you think. Evelyn needed a way to get Leo registered for school, so I just let her put him under my name. Its just a formality!"

"Is it?" I challenged.

"Of course! Weve been together for eight years. You have to trust me."

He explained frantically, desperate to make me believe him.

I didn't say a word. I just unlocked my phone and showed him Evelyn's Instagram post.

"Julian, does a 'formality' require you to sleep over at her place?"

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Does a 'formality' mean you let your biological daughter almost die while you comfort another woman's son?"

The room fell dead silent for three seconds.

Then, Julian let out a cold laugh. "Fine. Since you know, I won't play along anymore."

He pointed a finger at me, his voice dripping with self-righteous anger.

"I just wanted a son! Is that so wrong? If you could actually give me one, would I have to go elsewhere?"

My nails dug deep into my palms. I yelled back, "Julian, you are a disgusting piece of trash!"

He blinked, and suddenly his tone softened, trying to placate me.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I was just angry. I didn't mean it."

"You're the only one in my heart. I just wanted a son to carry on my name. Evelyn doesn't even want a title. We can bring Leo here, and you can raise him as your own. We can still be a happy family. What do you say?"

"Go to hell! I want a divorce, right now!" Unable to take it anymore, I slapped him across the face.

Julian grabbed my wrist and shoved me hard. I fell to the ground, scraping my arm against the floor. Blood began to ooze from the scratch.

A cry erupted from the bed.

"Bad Daddy! Leave Mommy alone!"

Lily was clutching her blanket, tears streaming down her face.

Julian spun around, grabbed Lily's arm, and shook her. "Shut up! All you do is cry! If it weren't for you being so sickly, I wouldn't have"

Lilys breathing grew rapid under his grip.

"Get your hands off her!" I screamed, scrambling up.

"Am I wrong?" Julian bellowed. "Do you have any idea how much money I've spent on her medical bills? How much I've sacrificed for you two? And now, just because I want a son to inherit my legacy, you're making a scene!"

The more he spoke, the more furious he got. Lily's lips were already turning blue.

"Touch her again, and I swear I'll kill you."

Without hesitation, I grabbed the paring knife from the nightstand and pointed it right at his chest.