Chapter 2: The Daughter I Never Knew Existed
Garrett stood in the rain, unable to move.
The little girl stared at him from behind Sally’s coat, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric as if she sensed the tension between the adults around her.
Four years.
Four years of anger.
Four years of resentment.
Four years of telling himself that Sally had betrayed him.
And now, in a matter of seconds, everything he believed had been shaken.
Because the child standing in front of him looked at him like a stranger.
But she carried something that belonged to him.
His eyes.
His expression.
A piece of himself he never knew existed.
"Sally..."" Garrett whispered.
His voice sounded unfamiliar, even to him.
"Is she...?""
He couldn't finish the question.
He was afraid of the answer.
Sally looked away.
The softness that had appeared when she hugged the child disappeared completely.
"Go home, Garrett.""
Her words were calm.
Too calm.
That scared him more than anger.
"Home?""
He laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it.
"I just found out I might have a daughter, and you're telling me to go home?""
The little girl looked between them.
"Mommy, who is he?""
Sally immediately lowered herself beside the child.
"Nobody you need to worry about, Lily.""
Garrett felt those words hit harder than he expected.
Nobody.
After everything they had shared.
After five years of marriage.
After all the plans they had made.
He was now nobody.
"Lily," Garrett repeated.
The name felt strange in his mouth.
Beautiful.
But painful.
"How old is she?""
Sally didn't answer.
Garrett already knew.
The question was unnecessary.
The answer was written all over the girl's face.
Four years old.
The same amount of time since Sally left.
The same amount of time since Cindy had forced her out of their home.
The same amount of time since Garrett believed the worst thing about the woman he loved.
A terrifying thought entered his mind.
Sally had been pregnant when she left.
He remembered.
The clinic appointments.
The morning sickness.
The way she placed her hand over her stomach whenever she thought he wasn't looking.
He remembered the excitement he felt before everything fell apart.
He remembered buying a tiny pair of baby socks.
He remembered hiding them in a drawer because he wanted to surprise her.
Then the photograph appeared.
Then the accusation.
Then everything changed.
Garrett took a step closer.
"Sally...""
She immediately stepped back.
"Don't.""
The single word stopped him.
"I need to know the truth.""
Sally looked at him.
For a moment, he saw everything she had been carrying.
The exhaustion.
The disappointment.
The pain.
"You want the truth now?""
Her voice became quieter.
"Now?""
Garrett opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because he knew she was right.
Where was his need for truth four years ago?
Where was his patience?
Where was his trust?
"I made mistakes," he finally said.
Sally gave a small, bitter smile.
"Mistakes?""
The rain dripped from her hair.
"You think that is what happened?""
Garrett lowered his eyes.
"I was lied to.""
"No.""
Sally shook her head.
"You chose to believe a lie.""
Those words hurt because they sounded true.
Garrett wanted to argue.
He wanted to explain.
He wanted to tell her about the photograph.
About his mother's words.
About how he had been betrayed too.
But standing there, looking at the woman who had apparently raised his child alone, his excuses felt smaller.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
Sally's expression changed.
A painful silence followed.
Then she looked at Lily.
"Because I tried.""
Garrett frowned.
"What?""
"I tried to tell you.""
The world seemed to slow.
Sally hugged Lily closer.
"That night. Before I left. I told you I was pregnant.""
Garrett remembered.
He remembered Sally standing in their bedroom.
Her hands shaking.
Her eyes filled with tears.
But in his memory, that moment had always been connected to the photograph.
The betrayal.
The anger.
"I said I was pregnant," Sally continued.
"I told you that Leland was my attorney. I told you your mother had misunderstood everything.""
Garrett looked away.
"She showed me proof.""
Sally laughed softly.
A sad sound.
"Proof?""
She shook her head.
"A picture?""
Garrett felt a knot form in his stomach.
"Your mother knew exactly what she was doing.""
"Don't talk about my mother.""
The words came automatically.
But this time, Sally didn't flinch.
She just looked at him.
And Garrett suddenly felt ashamed.
Because even now, after seeing everything, his first instinct was still to defend Cindy.
"Of course," Sally whispered.
"You always did.""
The little girl tugged on Sally's sleeve.
"Mommy, I'm hungry.""
Sally immediately looked down.
The anger disappeared from her face.
"Okay, baby.""
That small moment broke something inside Garrett.
Because he saw the woman Sally had become.
A mother.
A protector.
Someone who had spent years putting another person's needs before her own.
"Can I...""
He stopped.
He didn't know what he was asking.
Can I help?
Can I see her?
Can I be her father?
The questions felt impossible.
Sally picked up the food container.
"You should leave.""
"I want to talk.""
"No.""
"Sally.""
"No.""
Her voice became firmer.
"You don't get to appear after four years and demand a conversation.""
Garrett looked at Lily.
The child was watching him carefully.
Not afraid.
Just curious.
That hurt even more.
"Does she know who I am?""
Sally's face became unreadable.
"She knows she has a mother who loves her.""
Garrett swallowed.
"That's not what I asked.""
"No.""
The answer was immediate.
"She doesn't know you.""
The rain felt colder.
Garrett closed his eyes for a moment.
A child existed.
His child.
And she had grown up without him.
Her first steps.
Her first words.
Her first day of preschool.
Her birthdays.
All the moments fathers were supposed to remember.
He missed everything.
Not because he was unable to be there.
Because he believed a lie.
"I need to know why," Garrett said.
Sally looked at him.
"Why what?""
"Why you never came back.""
A strange expression crossed her face.
Almost disbelief.
"Come back?""
She repeated the words.
"Garrett, you threw me out.""
His chest tightened.
"You could have called.""
"I did.""
That surprised him.
"What?""
"I called you thirty-seven times.""
Garrett stared at her.
"No.""
"Yes.""
"I never saw—"
"Because Cindy changed your phone settings.""
The name immediately caught his attention.
"My mother?""
Sally nodded.
"She blocked my number.""
Garrett shook his head.
"No.""
But even as he said it, memories appeared.
Cindy always handled his phone bills.
She always said she was helping.
She always knew things before he told her.
A strange fear began growing inside him.
"She also deleted my emails.""
Sally continued.
"I sent you pictures from the hospital after Lily was born.""
Garrett's breathing stopped.
"Hospital?""
Sally looked at him.
"I almost died giving birth.""
The words were simple.
But they destroyed him.
"You were alone?""
Sally didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Garrett looked at Lily again.
A four-year-old girl standing in a broken building with a mother who looked like she hadn't rested in years.
A woman who had once dreamed of buying a house with him.
A woman he accused of betrayal.
A woman who had apparently survived the hardest moments of her life without him.
"I didn't know.""
His voice cracked.
Sally looked away.
"That's the problem.""
The silence between them was unbearable.
Finally, Sally took Lily's hand.
"We have to go.""
Garrett stepped aside.
He wanted to stop her.
He wanted to ask another hundred questions.
But he knew he had no right.
Not yet.
Sally walked past him.
After several steps, Lily looked back.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, Garrett saw something he couldn't explain.
A connection.
A possibility.
Then the little girl turned away.
And Garrett was left standing alone in the rain.
But he didn't leave.
He stayed there long after Sally disappeared.
Because one thought kept repeating in his mind.
If Cindy had lied about the photograph...
If Cindy had hidden Sally's messages...
If Cindy had taken control of their money...
Then what else had she done?
The answer terrified him.
Because for four years, Garrett had believed his wife destroyed their family.
But maybe the person who destroyed it had been sitting beside him the entire time.
And maybe his own mother had taken away the one thing Garrett would never be able to get back.
Time.
The next morning, Garrett drove straight to the bank.
For the first time in four years, he opened every account connected to his name.
And what he found made his hands shake.
The savings account for their house was empty.
Not reduced.
Not spent.
Empty.
The transfer record showed the money had been moved the day after Sally left.
The destination account belonged to someone else.
Someone whose name he recognized immediately.
Cindy Milford.
His mother.
Garrett stared at the screen.
Four hundred and twenty thousand dollars.
Gone.
His phone rang.
He almost ignored it.
Then he saw the caller ID.
Cindy.
His mother.
The woman who had raised him.
The woman he trusted.
The woman who had always claimed she was protecting him.
Garrett answered slowly.
"Mom.""
Her voice sounded cheerful.
"Garrett, honey. Are you okay?""
He looked at the transaction history.
Then he remembered Sally standing in the rain.
Then Lily's eyes.
"I'm fine.""
A pause.
Cindy noticed something.
Mothers always noticed when their children changed.
"Why do you sound upset?""
Garrett stared out the window.
Because for the first time in his life, he was afraid of the answer.
"Mom...""
His voice was cold.
"Where is the money?""
Silence.
A long silence.
Then Cindy said one sentence.
And Garrett knew immediately.
Everything was about to change.
May you like
"What money, sweetheart?"" she asked.
And for the first time, he heard fear in his mother's voice.
