The Boss. The Baby. The Lie.

(Hailey Miller POV) With Caleb finally asleep in the bassinet, I set the vase down on the dining table, carefully arranging the sunflowers and marigolds I’d clipped just an hour ago. Their golden and orange hues glowed against the deep navy runner I’d chosen weeks ago—especially for tonight. Everything had to be perfect. Soft music drifted from the Bluetooth speaker, the melody wrapping around the room like a warm memory. Our song—the one that played when we swayed beneath fairy lights on our wedding night. I caught myself smiling, fingertips brushing the rim of a crystal wine glass. A gentle swell of warmth bloomed in my chest. God, I loved Ethan Miller. We were high school sweethearts. Everyone had warned us it wouldn’t last, that real life would crush us. But they were wrong. Two years of marriage. One whole year in this cozy little house in Willow Creek. Six months of sleepless nights and milky giggles with a baby boy who had Ethan’s piercing eyes and my wild curls. It wasn’t always easy—but it was ours. The scent of rosemary and garlic filled the kitchen as the pot roast simmered in the oven. Cheesecake chilled behind the fridge door, and the table was already set—every fork aligned, every candle lit. All that was left was to feed Caleb, change into something prettier than a spit-up stained tee, and maybe curl my hair before Ethan walked in and wrapped me up in those strong, familiar arms. But first—Caleb. His soft cry echoed down the hall. My heart kicked into gear. I wiped my hands on my apron and headed to the nursery. “Hey, little man,” I whispered as I scooped him up. “Hungry already?” His nose wrinkled—just like Ethan’s did when he was annoyed—and his tiny fists waved in protest. I smiled through the exhaustion. My whole world, in a bundle of flailing limbs and sleepy grunts. “You’re your father’s clone, you know that?” I murmured. “But you got Mommy’s curls, so that’s something.” Settling into the glider, I nursed him, phone in one hand, thumb scrolling. Nothing. No text. No missed call. No Ethan. I frowned, pushing away the creeping worry. He’d been slammed at work lately—his new boss, Liam something, kept dumping last-minute assignments on him. Ethan came home looking more like a ghost than the man I married. But we had a deal: I’d stay home with Caleb for the first year. He’d carry the load for a while. And tonight… tonight was important. After burping Caleb and changing him—again—I returned to the kitchen. Then came the knock. I froze mid-step. My pulse skipped. Who the hell knocks at 8 p.m. in this neighborhood? Peeking through the window, I saw two men. Uniforms. Police. A chill slid down my spine, cold and fast, coiling tight around my ribs. I opened the door, balancing Caleb on my hip. “Yes?” The older officer removed his cap. His gaze locked on mine, and something in the air… shifted. It turned heavy. Hollow. I didn’t breathe. “Ma’am, I’m Officer Parker. This is Officer Diaz. Are you Hailey Miller?” “Yes.” My voice wavered. My knees already knew before my brain caught up. “Married to Ethan Miller?” I gripped the doorframe. “Yes. What is this? Is Ethan… is he okay?” Parker’s jaw tightened. Diaz’s eyes flicked to Caleb—and there it was. That look. The one people wear when they’ve seen something too awful to put into words. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Parker said gently. “There was a car accident. Your husband didn’t survive.” The world cracked open. No. No. No, no, no. The room spun, my breath caught in my throat like glass shards. My knees gave way beneath me, but I clung to Caleb—tighter, tighter—like he was the only thing anchoring me to this reality. I couldn’t drop him. I wouldn’t. I stood frozen, shaking, the words circling but refusing to land. “Come in,” I whispered, barely hearing myself over the roar in my head. We moved into the dining room, though I couldn’t feel my feet. The table I’d just finished decorating stood mocking me—sunflowers in full bloom, soft wedding music still playing, candles flickering like it was just another happy anniversary. A cruel, twisted joke. I placed Caleb in his bouncer. His tiny legs kicked freely, eyes bright, without a single clue that his world had shattered. “Your husband wasn’t alone,” Parker continued. The words felt sticky, slow, like molasses through air. “Do you know a woman named Madison Romano?” I blinked. The name didn’t just register—it slapped. “That’s… Liam’s wife. Ethan’s boss.” Parker gave a solemn nod. “She was in the passenger seat.” My throat tightened. “Why?” The question barely left my lips before the room turned heavy. Still. The kind of silence that crawls up your spine and settles there. Officer Diaz shifted beside him, clearing his throat. His voice came low, almost reluctant. “Ma’am… it appears they were having an affair.” My heart didn’t just sink. It imploded. My arms went numb. My whole body locked up, but the tears didn’t care. They streamed down my face, hot and fast, shameful in their betrayal. I gripped the edge of the table until my knuckles ached, like it could keep me from falling apart. “No. No, that’s not—” My voice faltered. “Are you… are you sure?” Parker’s eyes softened with pity—a look that made my stomach churn. “There was luggage in the trunk. Both theirs. Over a hundred grand in cash. Two passports. One-way tickets to Thailand.” “No.” I shook my head violently and jabbed a finger toward the stairs. “His bag’s upstairs! Our luggage hasn’t even moved! Maybe—maybe he was just giving her a ride to the airport!” Diaz looked away. That told me everything. Parker didn’t. “Madison Romano was… distracting him while he was driving,” he said quietly. “That’s what caused the crash.” The floor tilted beneath me. “No. Ethan wouldn’t—he’s not—maybe she forced—” “There was a letter,” Parker said, cutting in gently but firmly. “Left with Mr. Romano. From Madison. She confessed everything. Their plan to leave the country together. It’s… all there.” My mouth opened, but nothing came out. There were no words left. No excuses. Nothing that could erase the truth laid bare in front of me. Parker’s voice hardened. “You should check your finances, Mrs. Miller. Men like your husband… they don’t clean up their mess before they run.” It landed like a slap across my already-burning face. Diaz added, quieter this time, “We also need you to come by the station. His personal effects are there. Mr. Romano believes the money came from your accounts. His wife never withdrew from theirs.” A soft clatter broke through the silence. Caleb had dropped a toy block. It rolled across the floor, landing near my foot with a dull, empty thud. I bent down, hands trembling, and picked it up. I placed it back in his chubby little fingers—and just stood there, staring at him. Everything blurred. The walls. The air. The future. After the officers left, I sat alone. The house echoed with absence. I clung to Caleb like he was the last piece of solid ground in a world that had just been set on fire. I checked the accounts. Empty. Every single one. Then, with shaking hands, I opened Ethan’s email. Something I never wanted to do. Never needed to. Until now. It was all there. The transfers. The withdrawals. The second mortgage I didn’t even know he’d taken. The credit cards, all maxed. He hadn’t just vanished. He’d gutted everything we built—every dollar, every dream—before he left. Ethan hadn’t just betrayed me. He’d destroyed us. The timer beeped in the kitchen. The roast was ready. I didn’t care.