My Husband Secretly Had Children With His Assistants

Diana Cho met me at a restaurant in Tribeca where no one we knew would be. Small place. Dim lighting. Tables far apart. She was already there when I arrived, sitting in the back corner with a glass of red wine she hadn't touched.

I sat down. I didn't order anything. I slid the file across the table.

She opened it. She read for ten minutes without speaking. I watched her face. Diana was good at keeping her expression neutral—lawyer training—but I saw the moment she understood. Her jaw tightened. She flipped back to the beginning and read the clinic records again.

"Lyra," she said finally. She set the papers down. "This is not a man who fell in love with someone else. This is a man executing a plan."

I nodded. I already knew that. I needed her to know it too.

She picked up her wine. She took a long sip. Then she pulled out her phone and started typing notes. "We start with a forensic audit. Every share transfer. Every offshore account. I want a motion to freeze the trusts filed by Monday. We'll need affidavits from Marcus's team. Everything documented. Everything clean."

"How long?"

"Two weeks if we move fast. Maybe less."

"Do it."

She looked at me across the table. "Are you ready for what this is going to look like?"

"Yes."

She studied my face. Then she nodded. She went back to her phone. I sat there and watched her work. I didn't feel anything. Not anger. Not grief. Just the cold, clear focus of someone who knows exactly what needs to happen next.

I left the restaurant at nine. I went home. Seth wasn't there. The penthouse was dark and quiet. I stood in the living room for a minute. Then I went upstairs and went to bed.

Three days later, I got the invitation.

My own foundation was hosting a charity brunch at the St. Regis. I'd approved the event six months ago. Children's literacy. Two hundred guests. Press coverage. I was scheduled to give opening remarks.

I arrived at eleven. The ballroom was full. White tablecloths. Flower arrangements. Women in pastel dresses and men in blazers. I worked the room the way I always did. Smiling. Shaking hands. Thanking donors. I was good at this. I'd been doing it for years.

I was at my table talking to a board member when I saw her.

Ashlyn Moreno. Standing near the entrance in a cream dress that probably cost five thousand dollars. Hair perfect. Makeup perfect. Smiling at someone I didn't recognize.

She wasn't on the guest list. I knew because I'd reviewed it personally.

She saw me looking. She smiled wider. Then she started walking toward my table.

The board member was still talking. I didn't hear what she was saying. I watched Ashlyn cross the ballroom. She moved like someone who knew every eye in the room was on her. She probably did. Phones were already out. People were watching.

She stopped at my table. She looked at me. The smile never reached her eyes.

"Lyra," she said pleasantly. "Beautiful event. You always did have excellent taste."

I didn't stand. I looked up at her. "You weren't invited."

"Seth thought I should come. Show support for the foundation." She tilted her head slightly. "He said you'd understand."

The board member next to me went quiet. The table went quiet. Conversations around us stopped. I felt the room shift. Everyone was listening now.

Ashlyn leaned in slightly. Her voice stayed light. Friendly. "I know this must be hard for you. But Seth needed something you couldn't give him. Something real. Something... whole."

She straightened. She was still smiling. "He told us about your instability. How worried he's been. It's brave of you to keep showing up like this."

I stood up slowly. I didn't look away from her face. I saw the calculation in her eyes. The certainty that she'd won. The absolute confidence that nothing I could do would matter.

I slapped her.

Not wild. Not hysterical. One clean strike across her left cheek. The sound cracked through the ballroom like a gunshot.

Her head snapped to the side. She touched her face. The smile stayed. She turned back to me. "There it is," she said softly. "That's the instability he told us about."

Every phone in the room was recording. I knew that. I didn't care.

I picked up my purse. I walked out of the ballroom. No one stopped me. I heard the noise start behind me—voices rising, chairs scraping, the chaos I'd just created.

I walked through the St. Regis lobby. I stepped outside. The doorman asked if I needed a car. I said no. I started walking.

My phone buzzed. Diana.

*Tell me you didn't just do what I think you did.*

I didn't answer. I kept walking. I turned onto Fifth Avenue. The sun was out. It was a beautiful day. I felt nothing.