Thirty years into our childfree marriage, my husband’s twenty-eight-year-old illegitimate son showed up at our door. It was the second year since the law granted illegitimate children legal inheritance rights. His purpose for coming was glaringly obvious. I asked my husband what his plan was. His eyes darted around, and he stammered out excuses. First, he claimed we were getting older and needed someone to look after us. Second, he argued that the boy was, after all, his own flesh and blood. Seeing that I remained stubbornly silent, he closed his eyes and played his trump card: "If you had a child out there, you could bring them home too, and they could inherit our assets in the future." We had been together for thirty years, never spending more than a year apart. He was absolutely certain it was impossible for me to have a secret child. But if he was going to put it like that, then I guess I didn't need to feel guilty anymore. An illegitimate child? Did he really think I didn't have any? Not only did I have them, I had more than him! 1 When the young man showed up at my door claiming he was looking for his biological father, my brain short-circuited for a second. Then, naturally, I told him, "You have the wrong house." My husband and I had agreed to be childfree before we even got married. How could we possibly have a child? The polite smile remained plastered on the young man's face. His gaze bypassed me, landing squarely on something behind me. His voice rang out, laced with pleasant surprise: "Uncle Thomas... No, Dad—" Dad? I followed his gaze, turning around stiffly, and saw my husband, Thomas Sterling, standing in the living room, watching us. He looked back at us, his face a complex mix of guilt he couldn't hide. His eyes darted nervously, refusing to meet mine. A bone-chilling cold spread through my entire body. In that moment, what else was there to understand? The three of us sat on the living room sofa. Thomas and the young man exchanged glances multiple times, communicating silently through the air. They were clearly already very familiar with each other. They must have met privately plenty of times. I was the only stranger in the room. I remained silent. Thirty years of marriage. A husband who insisted on a childfree life before we even tied the knot now had a twenty-eight-year-old illegitimate son. I didn't know what expression to wear or how to even begin processing my emotions. We were both nearing sixty, having just retired from our jobs, holding onto the life savings we had worked so hard for decades to accumulate. And this was the second year since the law had officially granted illegitimate children legal inheritance rights. The young man's intention in showing up now was crystal clear. 2 Since it was already out in the open, Thomas had no choice but to endlessly apologize and explain. His excuses were pathetic, boiling down to one tired cliché: a drunken mistake in his youth. What a load of crap. Setting aside the fact that Thomas was famous in his youth for his high alcohol tolerance... even if he were blackout drunk, could he really have performed? After thirty years together, the man sitting in front of me, his hair more than half gray, suddenly felt like a complete stranger. I looked at them and asked the first question since Liam walked through the door: "Why didn't your mother come?" Liam twitched the corner of his mouth. The look he gave me screamed, I knew you'd ask that. "Mrs. Sterling, my mom is very busy. She's traveling with some friends right now and didn't have time to come." I narrowed my eyes slightly, taking a hard look at the young man who shared a striking resemblance to Thomas. I had, after all, lived twenty-odd years longer than him; I wasn't deaf to the passive-aggressive undertone in his voice. He held his chin slightly high, an arrogant air seeping through his casual demeanor. Just an illegitimate bastard, and he actually thought he had the right to feel superior in front of me? I let out a cold scoff: "So, your mother raised you all these years without ever trying to find your father. And now, she sends you looking for him. What, can she not afford to keep you anymore?" Liam's face darkened. But before he could even respond, Thomas was already barking at me: "Stella!" I glared at him coldly. He still didn't have the guts to meet my eyes, just muttering under his breath that even if I was angry, I shouldn't take it out on the kid. The kid was innocent; he didn't know anything. Innocent? Of course he wasn't innocent. As an illegitimate child, his very existence was the original sin in this marriage. Liam didn't stay long. He only came to deliver a message: he had a girlfriend and wanted to get married, but his current apartment was too small for a married couple. He wanted to move in with us. After all, the penthouse Thomas and I currently lived in was over three thousand square feet. What kind of fever dream was he having? I didn't bust my ass for half my life just to hand everything over to someone else. I immediately vetoed the idea, but Thomas just kept his head down and stayed silent. As Liam was leaving, he shot me a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. Thomas had already done a DNA test with him. Even as an illegitimate son, his right to inherit was set in stone. I could block him for now, but I couldn't block him forever. 3 After Liam left, Thomas and I sat in the living room in deafening silence. What's done was done. Whatever we said now felt pale and powerless. After weighing the pros and cons repeatedly, I suppressed the urge to scream and asked Thomas: "What is your plan?" Thomas stammered for a long time before finally saying: "Stella, we're both getting older. Our bodies aren't as strong as they used to be. If we had someone around to take care of us, it would be..." I cut him off: "Save the bullshit. I will never accept him." The kid is his, not mine. Having him "take care" of me? Does he think I want to be suffocated in my sleep? Liam looked at me with nothing but hostility. I'm not blind; I could see it perfectly well. It wasn't that I hadn't considered divorce. But a divorce meant Thomas would get half of our marital assets. Those assets were the result of our combined efforts over more than half a lifetime. Even if it was only half, I refused to let it fall into the hands of someone like Liam. Thomas's expression shifted several times, eventually suppressing his temper. He rambled on, the gist of it being that what happened happened, Liam carries the Sterling bloodline, and it's impossible for him not to acknowledge his own son. It's not like the Sterling family has a royal throne to pass down. "Only bloodline," my ass. Seeing that my expression remained stone-cold, Thomas finally gritted his teeth and played his trump card: "Stella, if you had a child out there, you could bring them home too, and they could inherit our assets in the future alongside Liam." He dared to say this because, in our thirty years together, we had never spent more than a year apart. He was absolutely certain I couldn't possibly have a secret child. Furthermore, I was fifty-seven years old. I was no longer capable of having children. They had planned this perfectly. Waiting until now to show up at my door was probably because they were afraid I might have changed my mind about being childfree earlier on. But who can really say for sure when it comes to secret children? Seeing my face darken, Thomas softened his tone to comfort me: "Stella, I admit I made a small mistake in my youth and wronged you. But we've weathered thirty years of storms together. How many years do we even have left? Besides, at our age, it's impossible to raise a child from scratch anyway. Liam has half my blood; his character can't be that bad..." Perhaps he didn't even realize the smug, triumphant look plastered on his own face. Back then, he was the one who suggested being childfree. He said he didn't like kids, even claimed he had a physiological aversion to them. I happened to dislike kids too, so we reached a childfree consensus. Now, he had stabbed me in the back, only to turn around and mock me: Who told you to be so stupid and not guard against me? 4 Three days. Thomas only managed to play the part of the apologetic, submissive husband for three days. After that, he brazenly started contacting Liam right in front of me. Voice memos, FaceTimes, phone calls—the once quiet living room was now constantly filled with their laughter. Over the past two days, Thomas even suggested changing Liam's last name to Sterling. I ignored him, coldly watching his smug display. Scum are excellent at camouflaging themselves, often hiding for long periods. But someone like Thomas, who could keep up the act for thirty years? That was truly rare. I was nearing sixty. The drive I had in my youth had long since faded. I lacked the courage to start over completely. Moreover, the assets Thomas and I had built up over our youth were mostly liquidated and tied up in investments. Stripping him of everything wouldn't be easy. My passive attitude made Thomas believe that bringing Liam into the family was a done deal. After all, the fact that Liam was his biological son was undeniable, recognized even by law. I was too exhausted to look at Thomas's face anymore. I decided to take a trip with my best friend, Chloe, for a few days to clear my head. Thomas considerately packed my luggage for me. Before I left, he chuckled and offered some advice: "Stella, at our age, there are many things we're powerless to change. The best approach is just to let it go." Chloe took my suitcase from his hands, smiling even brighter than him: "Thomas, it's exactly because of that attitude of yours that Stella and I never have to worry when we go out and have fun." Thomas didn't catch Chloe's underlying sarcasm. He assumed I hadn't told her about his illegitimate son and thought she was complimenting him. The car door closed, and Thomas's figure gradually shrank in the rearview mirror. I turned to Chloe and asked, "Are the kids back?" Chloe nodded. "They all got back last night. They're waiting for you at home right now." I didn't say anything else, wearily pinching the bridge of my nose. My left hand, resting by my side, was suddenly enveloped in a warm grasp. I looked down. Chloe was only a year younger than me, but the wrinkles on the back of her hand were just as pronounced as mine. I sighed silently and gently squeezed her hand back. 5 I was gone for five days. For those five days, I cut off all contact with Thomas. When I finally came back and unlocked the front door, the first thing to rush out was a mixed-breed dog I didn't recognize. The dog barked furiously at me from inside my own home. A strange woman's voice drifted from the living room: "Daisy, what are you barking at? Is a guest here—" The woman walking toward the entryway swallowed the rest of her sentence the moment she saw me. It was obvious she knew who I was. And in this house, she was the "guest." An incredibly unwelcome guest. The woman looked about my age. She wore a light pink dress, had permed, voluminous hair, and her face was caked in a thick layer of foundation that settled deeply into her laugh lines. She looked meticulously put together, yet incredibly tacky. Our eyes met. My expression was hostile. Even though I already guessed who she was, I demanded with an interrogating tone: "Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?" A flicker of panic crossed the woman's face for just a second before she quickly composed herself. She offered a less-than-friendly smile: "You must be Stella, right? I'm Rachel." Rachel. Liam's mother. Another voice echoed from inside: "Mom, who is it?" Liam and Thomas appeared behind Rachel simultaneously. Hah. A family of three. How perfect. Thomas was clearly guilty. He stammered, asking why I didn't tell him I was coming back early. I sneered: "If I told you early, would I have been able to catch this wonderful little show?" It wasn't until I walked into the living room that I realized it wasn't a family of three, but a family of four. Liam's girlfriend was half-lying on the sofa, playing on her phone with her feet propped up on the coffee table. Hearing people come in, she merely glanced up before looking back down at her screen. The audacity to bring his old flame and his bastard son into my home. Thomas had pushed me too far! 6 I slammed my luggage heavily onto the table. The girl on the sofa quickly pulled her feet down and shot me a dirty look. Liam, playing the loyal lapdog, wasn't going to stand for that. He yelled at me: "Couldn't you put that down a little more quietly?" I didn't even give him the time of day: "This is my house. I'll do whatever the hell I want. What does it have to do with an outsider like you?!" "This is my dad's house too," Liam scoffed coldly. He tilted his chin up, looking down his nose at me with a bizarre sense of superiority. "Aunt Stella, at your age, you should be looking for someone to rely on. I think you better start treating me with a little more respect." I glanced at him, searing his arrogant face into my memory. Rachel stood next to Thomas, smiling tightly with her lips pressed together. Mhm. Like an aging white lotus. I ignored them and jutted my chin toward Thomas, keeping my voice as flat as possible: "Thomas, sit down. We need to talk." Thomas instinctively looked at Rachel and Liam. Rachel let out a soft hmph and, without bothering to hide her entitlement, sat directly on the sofa across from me. Liam sat down next to her, staring at me with open hostility. They really had no idea what their actual status was here. But of course, that was quietly encouraged by Thomas. Thomas looked at them, then at me, and finally sat down on Rachel's other side. They flanked Rachel, one on the left, one on the right, protecting her. It made me look like the wicked villain trying to bully poor Rachel. I couldn't be bothered to waste time on pleasantries and cut straight to the chase: "Thomas, you know exactly how much money we've saved up over the years, right?" As soon as those words left my mouth, everyone's eyes locked onto Thomas. Even the girl playing games on the sofa turned the volume all the way down and quietly pricked up her ears. A bizarre, tense silence fell over the living room. Thomas looked at me for a long moment before finally nodding: "I know." All our savings were in a single bank account. The PIN was six digits long. I only knew the first three digits, and Thomas knew the last three. When we were young, Thomas and I were terrible with money. We didn't combine our finances initially. Then Thomas got seriously ill, and we realized that combining our balances wasn't even enough to cover the surgery. That was when we finally understood the importance of money and started planning to save. To prevent the other from slipping back into bad spending habits, we came up with this method. In front of everyone, I pulled the debit card out of my purse and placed it on the table. "There's $2.24 million on this card." Hearing that balance, nobody reacted—except for the girl on the sofa. It seemed Thomas had already told them. Thomas rubbed his hands together and offered an awkward smile: "Stella, uh, about Liam's wedding... I've done the math. A million should be enough to cover—" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before Rachel cut him off: "Thomas, you just don't understand the market these days. Based on current trends, what you're talking about—the banquet, the ring, the bridal jewelry, the photoshoot... We have to do this right, a million isn't going to cut it..." The girl who had been lounging on the sofa was now sitting up ramrod straight, her restless feet planted firmly on the floor. She nodded eagerly along with Rachel's words: "Auntie is absolutely right. Liam, when my best friend got married last year, the groom's family gave them $660,000 just for the engagement gift. I shouldn't get any less than her, right?" Liam shifted closer to her and affectionately stroked her hair: "Don't worry, you won't get any less than her, right, Dad?" The ball was tossed back to Thomas. He didn't answer Liam directly, but stole a cautious glance at me: "Stella, a wedding only happens once in a lifetime. What do you think..." "Let me finish speaking." I unlocked my phone and opened the calculator app. "We still have five years left on the mortgage. The monthly payment is $8,000. If we want to pay it off in one lump sum, we need $500,000." It was a 3,000-square-foot penthouse. We bought it early on when prices were still around $1,000 a square foot. We had paid off fifteen years of a twenty-year mortgage. The only reason we hadn't paid it off early was that the interest was basically paid up. Based on our current savings, paying off the remaining five years wouldn't be a strain at all. Before Thomas could say anything, Rachel frowned: "If you calculate it like that, there's only about $1.7 million left. That's barely enough to cover Liam's wedding." Liam chimed in on cue: "Dad, the mortgage obviously needs to be paid off first. Katie and I barely make enough to cover our own monthly expenses; we definitely can't help with that." I looked up from my phone screen, taking in their greedy faces one by one, and slowly smiled: "What are you all dreaming about? Do you really think that $1.7 million has much of a share for you?" Their faces instantly darkened. The furrow between Thomas's brows was deep enough to crush a fly: "Stella, I thought you had come to terms with this? Why are you saying things like this again? I told you, Liam is my only child—" I raised a hand to stop him: "You only have one child. That's your business. This is our joint marital property. Naturally, it should be divided equally among our children." Before Thomas could even process what I had just said, I made a phone call: "Bring the kids in."
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