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I pressed Scott for answers. “What happened to her mother? Why did you keep this from me?”
He grew tense, his jaw tightening. “It’s complicated. My stepsister, Maya—Ella’s mother—was troubled. I helped her as much as I could, but…” His words trailed off, unfinished, unsatisfying.
I wanted to believe him, but soon, the pieces stopped fitting together.
The Photograph
While unpacking, I found a photograph tucked into one of Scott’s books. It showed him standing beside a pregnant woman. The intimacy in their pose unsettled me.
When I asked him about it, he grew pale.
“That’s Maya,” he admitted reluctantly. Then, after a long silence, he added, “Ella isn’t my niece. She’s my daughter.”
The confession shattered my trust. How could he marry me without telling me this? Why had he built our relationship on such a lie?
