My "Goddaughter" Is His Secret Child

The vibrant hum of conversation in our secluded meeting room abruptly died away. Yvonne Stone fervently hammered at her cellphone's screen, trying to kill the call that had just begun. Whirling around, Yvonne clung to my arm. "Claire, you've got to believe me. This isn't what it looks like. It's only that the voice's eerily familiar. My husband's just has that similar tone to Mark's. That's all." Her words shook as she spoke, trembling on her lips like fragile glass. Moments later, her phone buzzed to life again. The same number flashed on the screen, persistent in its attempt to reconnect. In a near frenzy, Yvonne declined the call once more. "I swear, it just sounded alike! Everyone's tipsy. It's simply a mix-up!" Her gaze fixed on mine, desperate and as haunted as a castaway clinging to a piece of driftwood amid tempestuous seas. A queasy feeling stirred within me. My scalp prickled, and my heart felt twisted, as if in a cruel vice. I pushed my chair back, smoothing down my clothes as I stood. "It's fine, really, just a coincidental resemblance." I forced a smile. "It doesn't mean anything." With that, I headed for the restroom, my steps calm and determined, my posture unwavering. Once inside, I locked myself in a stall, huddled down, noting the tremors coursing through my fingers. I retrieved my phone and dialed Mark Green's supposed international number. "The number you have dialed is not reachable at the moment." I closed my eyes, a memory flashing vividly. In the early days of our romance, Mark had playfully insisted on installing a tracking app on my phone, claiming it was for my safety, should I ever be kidn*pped. In time, we both forgot about it, yet it quietly continued to track our whereabouts. I opened the app. Mark's red dot was nowhere near Yorkton Bay. Instead, it pulsed steadily on the map, just 1.7 miles from my current location. In this city, along Emerald Avenue, nestled in luxury residential surroundings. His so-called business trip was just an excuse. He'd been carrying on an affair right under my nose. I splashed cold water onto my face, staring at my reflection. The woman in the mirror had weary eyes, with traces of smudged makeup marking her cheeks. Patiently, I retouched my makeup, one step at a time, until I felt ready to walk out of the restroom, expression carefully composed. Back in the private room, the atmosphere was thick with unease. My colleagues were fiddling with their phones and making small talk, desperately trying to pretend everything was normal. Yvonne sat immersed in her phone, fingers darting across the screen, deep in a w******p conversation. With a confident stride, I approached her, slung my bag over my shoulder, and jingled my car keys. "Yvonne, how about I drive you home?" I suggested warmly. "I miss seeing the little one. It's been ages since I last saw Vivi." Yvonne's complexion went ashen at my words. I couldn't help but remember how, year after year, on Valentine's and Christmas, Yvonne would ask me to watch Vivi. "Claire, can you keep her overnight? I've got to work late." Little did I know that while I was tucking her daughter into bed, Yvonne was out with my boyfriend.