Her Lookalike Lover My Secret Daughter

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It was during a game of Truth or Dare that Valerie decided to drop the bomb.

Actually, the night before our wedding, Cameron and I checked into a hotel together.

In a heartbeat, the air was sucked out of the room. Every pair of eyes shifted to me, heavy with a suffocating, pitying weight.

Valerie leaned back against the plush leather of the VIP booth sofa, nursing her drink. She looked completely at ease, just waiting for me to lose my mind.

Instead, I gave a calm, measured nod.

"I have something Ive been keeping from you, too," I said. "I have a daughter. Shes seven."

The private room went dead silent. You could have heard a pin drop.

It took a long, agonizing moment before Brooke, Valeries self-appointed best friend, scrambled to break the tension.

"Nathan... God, Nate, Val is just messing around," Brooke laughed, a shrill, nervous sound. "Your joke isn't exactly funny, either."

I cut her off. "Im not joking."

Valerie shifted. Her posture straightened, and that smug, playful glint in her eyes began to freeze over.

"Nathan," she said, her voice dropping to a low, warning register. "Do you have any idea what youre saying right now?"

Right on cue, Cameron leaned a fraction closer to Valerie. He had that soft, almost fragile cadence down to a science.

"Nate," Cameron murmured, his eyes big and earnest. "I know you're in a bad mood tonight, but you really shouldn't joke about something like that. If what Val said upset you... I'm so sorry. I apologize on her behalf."

As he spoke, the rims of his eyes turned a delicate shade of pink. The perfect picture of the long-suffering victim.

Watching his little performance, I actually let out a genuine laugh.

"I'm not joking, and I'm not in a bad mood. Its just that listening to you two talk about the past reminded me that it's probably time I came clean about a few things, too."

Valerie let out a sharp scoff, slamming her cocktail glass down on the glass table. The ice clinked violently.

"Nathan, if you can't handle the game, just leave. There's no need to say this kind of garbage just to get a rise out of me."

"Exactly," Cameron chimed in, perfectly synchronized. "Whatever happened between Val and me, its in the past. If it really bothers you, I can explain everything. You don't need to invent some imaginary kid just to throw a tantrum."

I met Valeries stare head-on. "I'm not throwing a tantrum. Im not lying. I have a child. A seven-year-old girl."

This time, even Brookes nervous smile vanished.

The rest of the friends in the booth, who had been aggressively pretending to look at their phones, snapped their heads up. Their gazes darted back and forth between Valerie and me like they were watching a tennis match.

Valeries face cycled through a spectrum of emotions before settling into a cruel, mocking smirk. "Seven? Nathan, weve been married for six years. Care to tell me where exactly you conjured up a seven-year-old daughter?"

"She was born before the wedding," I said simply.

"Impossible," she hissed, her jaw tight. "Ive known you for eight years. You think you could hide a kid from me?"

But I saw the flicker in her eyes. The anger was morphing into suspicion, and the suspicion was curdling into something darker, something deeply unsettled. I could practically see the gears turning in her head, frantically scanning the last eight years for any blind spots, any missing hours.

Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Cameron decided to intervene.

"Well, Nate, if you really have a kid, why don't you bring her around?" He tilted his head, flashing a sweet, innocent smile. "Wed love to meet our new little niece."

There was a faint, taunting edge to his mouth. He thought he was calling my bluff.

"There's no need," I said flatly.

"Why not?" Cameron pressed, his tone dripping with fake concern. "Is she shy? Or..." Or does she not exist? He left the implication hanging in the air.

"She has no desire to know people like you," I said.

Camerons smile shattered.

Valerie stared at me, a violent storm brewing in her dark eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but for once, the words failed her.

Brooke leaped to her feet, practically vibrating with forced cheer. "Okay, wow! Let's... let's keep playing! Come on, guys, it's rare we all get together. Let's not kill the vibe!"

She grabbed an empty vodka bottle from the table, rolling it between her palms. "Next round! Nobody be a buzzkill!"

She spun the bottle. It clattered against the glass table, slowing down until the neck pointed dead center at Cameron.

"Truth or dare?" Brooke asked, breathless.

Cameron glanced at Valerie, then shot a hesitant look at me. He bit his lower lip. "Dare."

Brooke pulled a slip of paper from the bowl. She cleared her throat.

"Share a chocolate pretzel stick with someone of the opposite sex. You have to eat it until your lips are less than half an inch apart!"

The booth erupted into immediate, rowdy cheering.

Camerons face flushed a deep, becoming red. He turned to Valerie, his eyes swimming with a perfectly calculated mix of helplessness and quiet anticipation.

Valerie, however, was still staring at me. Unblinking.

I broke eye contact, picked up my glass of club soda, and took a slow sip.

Three, maybe four seconds ticked by. Then, I heard Valerie let out an irritated, dismissive click of her tongue.

A plastic wrapper tore open.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her place one end of a chocolate-coated stick between her teeth. She turned her body, leaning heavily into Camerons space.

The catcalls and whistles from their friends grew louder.

I set my glass down. My eyes traced the shrinking distance between them.

Valerie held the biscuit in her mouth, leaning further in. Cameron's face was flushed, his head tilted back slightly, his eyelashes fluttering like a baby bird waiting to be fed.

The stick got shorter. And shorter.

When they reached that final half-inch, Valerie didn't stop.

Cameron let out a soft, muffled gasp as her mouth crushed against his.

The VIP room went absolutely feral. People were clapping, howling, and Brooke even whipped out her iPhone to start recording.

"Holy shit, Val is going for it!"

"Look at Cam, he's melting!"

"It's been almost a minute, damn!"

I sat there, watching their performance with the detached clinical interest of an outsider.

Valeries hand slid to the back of Camerons neck, pulling him deeper into her. Cameron melted against her, his fingers bunching the fabric of her silk blouse like it was a life preserver in a stormy sea.

One minute and three seconds.

I picked up the highball glass in front of me and stood up.

Nobody noticed. All their attention was glued to the center of the booth, where the two of them were completely lost in each other.

I stepped around the low table and walked right up to them.

Cameron opened his eyes first. His pupils dilated in sheer panic.

Before he could even flinch, I threw the entire glass of ice water directly into his face.

"Ah!"

The freezing liquid splashed over his delicate features, ice cubes bouncing off his cheekbones, water plastering his perfectly styled hair to his forehead.

Valerie shoved him away instantly. Water dripped from her chin, a massive dark stain spreading across the front of her expensive silk blouse.

The screaming in the booth stopped. Complete, suffocating silence.

Cameron curled into Valeries side, trembling violently. Drops of water clung to his eyelashes. He looked incredibly pathetic. He bit his lip, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, but he didn't dare say a word.

Valerie looked up at me.

The strange thing was, there was no rage in her eyes. Instead, there was a twisted sense of relief.

"Valerie," I said, my voice sounding completely steady, almost foreign to my own ears. "Were getting a divorce."

I turned on my heel and walked toward the door.

"Nate, wait!"

Brooke was the first to scramble up, throwing herself in my path. The rest of the group stood up in a panicked wave.

"Nate, don't do this," Brooke pleaded, holding her arms out. "It's just a stupid game! Val's had too much to drink, please don't take it seriously!"

"Yeah, come on, man," one of the guys chimed in. "We're all friends here. People get a little wild, it's normal. You storming out just makes you look insecure."

"Exactly. It's just Cam. We've known him forever. It's not like he's a stranger."

I looked at Brooke and smiled. "I hope, when you get married, your husband finds a female friend he can aggressively make out with in public."

Brooke froze, the color draining from her face.

"And the rest of you," I said, sweeping my gaze over the room. "I wish you all partners who have a 'best friend' they can just passionately kiss during party games. You deserve exactly what you're defending."

The smug expressions in the room evaporated.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Nathan?" one of them snapped. "Brooke is trying to help your marriage and you're cursing us?"

I didn't bother replying. I pushed Brookes arm aside and walked out the door.

Rapid footsteps echoed behind me.

"Nathan!"

Valeries hand clamped down on my wrist. Her grip was brutal, her nails digging into my skin.

She yanked me around. In the dim, moody lighting of the club hallway, half her face was cast in shadow, making her expression unreadable.

"Let go of me, Val," I said.

She didn't.

"Nathan," she said, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. "I am going to ask you one last time. The kid. Is it real?"

I was exhausted. Bone-deep tired.

Was I speaking a different language, or were they all just incapable of basic comprehension?

"She is real. I can show you the DNA test whenever you want," I cut in.

Valerie let out a bitter, jagged laugh. "People fake DNA tests all the time."

Looking at her, a strange sense of dark amusement washed over me.

Six years of marriage, and in her eyes, I was still just a man desperate enough to invent a secret child to make her jealous. To provoke her. To beg for her attention.

"Believe whatever you want," I said, wrenching my arm out of her grasp. "We're getting a divorce either way."

This time, she didn't follow me.

As the elevator doors slid shut, the last thing I saw was Valerie standing alone in the dark hallway, one hand buried in her damp hair, pulling at the roots.

The elevator descended.

I leaned my head against the cool metal wall, my mind drifting back to our wedding day, six years ago.

When we exchanged vows, Valerie had held my hands, her eyes bright with tears, promising she would protect my heart for the rest of our lives.

Sitting in the front row, my father-in-law had been weeping like a baby. Later at the reception, Arthur had pulled me aside, gripping my shoulder. Nate, son, hed said, if my Valerie ever breaks your heart, you tell me. Ill break her legs.

Back then, I really believed I was marrying for love.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was Arthur.

I stared at the caller ID for several long seconds before swiping to answer.

"Nate, my boy," Arthurs warm, gravelly voice echoed through the speaker. "It's the weekend tomorrow. You and Val coming over for dinner? Im slow-roasting a brisket, and I picked up that maple pecan pie from the bakery you love."

I closed my eyes, the cold elevator wall grounding me.

"Arthur," I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I have some things to take care of tomorrow. I don't think I can make it."

"Sunday, then? You can't be busy the whole weekend!"

"I have plans Sunday, too."

"Nate..." Arthurs voice dropped, turning cautious. "Did you and Val have a fight?"

I didn't answer.

The elevator reached the lobby with a soft ding, the doors sliding open to the chaotic noise of the street.

"No, Arthur," I said, walking out into the night. "Work is just really crazy right now."

There was a long stretch of static on the line before Arthur let out a heavy sigh.

"Nate, listen to me. I know my girl can be reckless sometimes, but she loves you. She really does. Whatever it is, talk it out. Don't let it fester."

The night breeze hit my face, sharp and cold.

"Arthur," I interrupted him gently. "I really have to go. Goodnight."

I hung up before he could say another word.

Standing on the curb, I watched the blur of headlights rushing past.

My phone vibrated again.

A voice message on iMessage from Mias teacher.

I held the phone to my ear. A sweet, high-pitched voice flooded the speaker. "Daddy! Are you coming to the parent-teacher thing tomorrow? My teacher said we could bring our paintings, and I painted you!"

I listened to it twice.

Then I typed back: I'll be there.

I was Valeries white whale. Her ultimate prize.

She chased me for years. It took a long time before I finally let my guard down and agreed to marry her.

After the wedding, she treated me like royalty. She would have given me the moon if I asked for it.

At least, for the first year, that's what everyone told me, and that's what I believed.

But three months into our marriage, I was taking her blazer to the dry cleaners and found a Polaroid tucked into the inner breast pocket.

It was a picture of a boy. Early twenties, wearing a crisp white linen shirt, smiling brilliantly under a large oak tree.

That face paralyzed me for several seconds.

He looked exactly like me.

The shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose. The way his smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. It was a mirror image of a younger me.

I put the photo back. I didn't say a word.

But I started paying attention.

I noticed how Valerie always put her phone face down.

I noticed that when she was in the shower, her phone would buzz with texts from a contact saved simply as "Cam."

Cameron.

I finally met him six months into our marriage, at a dinner party.

He arrived trailing behind some of Valeries friends, slipping into a corner seat, quiet and unassuming.

Someone introduced him. "This is Cameron."

He stood up to greet everyone. When his eyes landed on me, he paused just a fraction of a second.

Then he smiled. A bright, meticulously polite smile. "Hi, Nate."

In that exact moment, I understood why that Polaroid was hidden in her suit pocket.

He was younger than me. Softer than me. And he knew exactly how to look at Valerie with big, tear-filled eyes.

And Valerie? From the second he walked through the door, she hadn't looked at me once.

The first time I caught them kissing was eight months after the wedding.

It was Valeries birthday. We threw a massive catered party at our house.

I was running around playing the perfect host, refilling glasses and making small talk. It wasn't until the cake was being brought out that I realized Valerie was missing.

I went to check the second-floor balcony.

When I pushed the glass door open, I saw two silhouettes pressed together against the railing.

Cameron had his back arched over the balustrade, his hands clutching Valeries shoulders.

Valerie had her hand buried in his hair, kissing him with a desperate, consuming hunger.

The moonlight washed over their faces.

Camerons eyes were closed, his eyelashes trembling beautifully.

I stood in the doorway. The silver cake server I was holding slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor.

They broke apart.

Cameron saw me, and the blood instantly drained from his face. He scrambled behind Valerie like a frightened child.

Valerie spun around. For a split second, there was sheer panic in her eyes, but she ruthlessly buried it.

"Nathan," she said, taking a step toward me. "Listen to me"

I didn't listen.

I turned around, walked down the hall, and went straight into our master bedroom. I opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out our framed wedding photo.

It was a heavy, solid mahogany frame.

I lifted it above my head and smashed it onto the floor with everything I had.

The glass shattered into a thousand pieces. The photograph ripped right down the middle, perfectly severing Valerie and me.

The guests downstairs heard the crash and came rushing up, crowding the doorway in shocked silence.

By the time Valerie sprinted into the room, I was already destroying the crystal figurines on her desk.

The first gift she ever gave me. The souvenirs from our honeymoon in Paris. The expensive colognes she bought me. Anything I could lift, I threw.

She lunged at me, wrapping her arms around my torso from behind, locking me in a vice grip.

"Nathan! Stop it! That's enough!"

I couldn't break free. I just stood there, chest heaving, gasping for air.

She turned me around, her eyes red and pleading.

"I cut him off," she swore, her voice trembling. "I swear to God, Nate, it's over."

I looked at her, and suddenly, I started to laugh.

Why was it that she was the one who cheated, but I was the one standing here looking completely unhinged?

That night, she sat on the floor beside my side of the bed until dawn.

I didn't let her under the covers, and she didn't try to leave.

When the sun came up, I opened my eyes to see her asleep, her head resting on the edge of the mattress, her brow furrowed, one hand still desperately gripping the corner of my blanket.

I stared at her for a long time.

Then, slowly, I reached out and brushed a piece of hair away from her face.

I thought, maybe, just maybe, she would actually change.

Three months later, Cameron was kneeling on my foyer floor.

I was home alone that afternoon. The doorbell rang, and when I opened it, there he was.

He was wearing an oversized sweater, his face ghastly pale, his eyes swollen from crying.

He walked inside, dropped to his knees on the imported tile, and looked up at me.

"Nate," he choked out. "I know I shouldn't be here, but I have nowhere else to go..."

I stared down at him. I didn't say a word.

His trembling hands reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He offered it up to me like a sacrifice.

A clinical ultrasound report.

Patient: Valerie Hayes.

Diagnosis: Early intrauterine pregnancy. Approximately 6 weeks.