A Traffic Ticket Exposed His Secret Family

I was helping my husband deal with traffic violations when I logged into the DMV app and noticed something odd. Besides our ten-year-old family sedan, a red Porsche Panamera was also registered in the system. The owner of the luxury car, with local license plates, was an unfamiliar woman. The remarks section brazenly displayed the jarring words: “Daddy’s Little Princess.” Twenty-two years of marriage instantly shattered before my eyes. The image of my daughter passing away seventeen years ago due to a thirty-thousand-dollar surgery fee suddenly surfaced. I remembered him kneeling in the hospital corridor, slapping himself, repeating that he was useless and couldn't save our daughter. My hands trembling, I exited the app and searched for the car owner’s social media account. Half an hour ago, she had just posted a picture of her new car, bragging that it was a twentieth birthday gift from her dad, with the location tagged in the city’s most exclusive luxury residential area. 1. I stared at the location on the screen. Summit Gardens. The city’s wealthiest district, with an average price of twelve thousand dollars per square foot. I clicked on the profile of the girl named Ashley Chen. It was entirely filled with daily displays of wealth. “Dad took me to a Black Pearl restaurant, five hundred a person, but the food was just so-so.” “Dad bought me a limited edition Chanel bag, a rare style in the whole city.” “Today’s my eighteenth birthday celebration; Dad booked out the yacht club.” I scrolled through each post. My fingers were ice-cold, trembling incessantly. In every post, a man appeared. Sometimes it was a hand wearing a Rolex Submariner. Sometimes it was a broad back. That watch, that back—I knew them all too well. David Chen. I scrolled down to an older post. The timestamp was seventeen years ago. It was a baby’s full-moon photo. The caption read: “Ashley’s full moon! Dad says I’m his little princess.” Seventeen years ago. That same month, seventeen years ago, my daughter, Cici, lay in the ICU. The doctor said that if we paid the thirty thousand dollar surgery fee, our child could live. David Chen knelt on the floor. Slapping himself on both sides of his face. “I’m useless! I’ve borrowed from every relative and friend, and I can’t get a single dime!” “Honey, let’s give up. Cici is suffering too much.” He embraced me, weeping uncontrollably. Cici passed away. I held her cold body, crying until I fainted. David Chen swore to me then. “Honey, from now on, my life is yours. I will work tirelessly to make money and never let you suffer again.” Now. The money he worked tirelessly to earn had become a Porsche. It had become a luxury home in Summit Gardens. It had become a girl named Ashley Chen. The sound of a key turning in the lock came from the door. I quickly exited the account and locked my phone. David Chen pushed the door open. He was carrying a carton of discounted strawberries. “Honey, I’m home. The supermarket had strawberries on sale today, so I bought you a carton.” He changed into his slippers and walked over to me. “Did you take care of the traffic violation points?” I looked at him. Fifty years old, a bit bald, wearing a faded shirt. To anyone, he looked like a devoted and frugal good man. “Yes, it’s done,” my voice was steady. “That’s good,” he sighed in relief. “This old Jetta, the brakes are getting worse and worse. Almost rear-ended someone today.” “Then let’s get a new car,” I said. David Chen immediately frowned. “Replace what car! A car costs tens of thousands of dollars.” “We don’t have money for a new car right now.” “The company accounts don’t even have ten thousand dollars in liquid funds.” “I’m out there every day, begging and pleading for business, isn’t it all for our retirement?” He placed the strawberries on the table. “Don’t always be so extravagant. These strawberries are twenty dollars a pound; I even think that’s expensive.” I looked at the carton of strawberries. Some were already rotting. Ashley Chen’s Porsche, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. My strawberries, twenty dollars. “David Chen.” “Hm?” He picked up a strawberry and popped it into his mouth. “Where were you today?” His chewing paused. “Meeting clients, of course. That construction boss from the Southside is a real pain. I spent the whole afternoon drinking tea with him; my stomach feels like it’s been worn through.” Southside. Summit Gardens was in the Northside. The Porsche center was also in the Northside. “Did you close the deal with the client?” “No. They said our quote was too high.” David Chen sighed. “Business is so tough these days. Honey, could you spot me for next month’s living expenses from your salary?” I watched him put on his act. Seventeen years. He had deceived me for seventeen years with that very face. My salary was eight thousand dollars a month. All of it went to utility bills, groceries, and mortgage payments. He only gave me two thousand dollars a month, claiming the company was struggling and could only afford that small base salary. I believed him. I hadn’t bought a single piece of clothing over two hundred dollars. “Okay,” I said. David Chen smiled. “You’re the best, honey. Once I get through this rough patch, I’ll definitely buy you a gold necklace.” His phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and his face instantly changed. “The client is calling; I’ll take it on the balcony.” He grabbed his phone and quickly walked to the balcony, closing the sliding door behind him. I stood up. Walked to the balcony door. Through the glass, I heard his hushed voice. “Ashley, didn’t Daddy just transfer fifty thousand to you?” “What? You found a watch you like?” “Okay, okay, Daddy will transfer the money to you tomorrow. Don’t be mad, Daddy loves you very much.” He turned around. I stood behind the glass door. He startled, nearly dropping his phone. He pulled open the door, forcing a smile. “Client, rushing for an order.” I looked at him. My gaze drifted past his shoulder, to the night sky behind him. “David Chen.” “What is it?” “I just checked that traffic violation record.” He tensed up. “What about the violation?” I stared into his eyes. “The location of the violation was the Porsche Center in the Northside.” 2. David Chen’s face froze. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “You must have read it wrong,” he forced a laugh. “My old Jetta, what would it be doing at a Porsche Center?” “Really.” “It must be a system GPS error. This navigation system often drifts.” He walked over and put his arm around my shoulder. “Honey, don’t be so suspicious all the time. My heart only beats for you in this life.” “After Cici left us, I lost all motivation to live. If it wasn’t for you, I would have given up long ago.” He brought up Cici again. Every time I questioned him, he would mention Cici. Using a dead child to cover up his lies. I pushed his hand away. “I’m going to take a shower.” I walked into the bathroom and locked the door. Turned on the faucet. Water splashed loudly. I took out my phone and dialed my cousin Mark’s number. Mark worked in the traffic police department. “Mark.” “Hey, Auntie. What’s up?” “Help me look up a license plate number.” I recited the Porsche’s license plate. “Look up the owner’s information, and the car’s travel history. Focus on this afternoon.” “Okay, give me five minutes.” Three minutes later, Mark called back. “Auntie, I found it.” “The owner is named Ashley Chen. I sent you her ID number on WeChat.” “This car left the Porsche Center at 2 PM today and went straight to Summit Gardens.” “Oh, and this car was bought in full. The payment account name is David Chen.” I leaned against the cold tiles. “Got it. Thank you.” “Auntie, why did Uncle buy someone else a Porsche? Who is this Ashley Chen?” “I don’t know.” I hung up the phone. Opened the ID number Mark had sent. Ashley Chen. Date of birth: August 15, 2004. August 15, 2004. Cici passed away on August 12, 2004. Three days. Three days after Cici died. Ashley Chen was born. While he was weeping hysterically in the hospital corridor, his other woman was in the delivery room giving birth to his child. He wouldn’t even spend thirty thousand dollars to save Cici. But he had money to book a VIP delivery room for another woman. I covered my mouth. Preventing myself from making a sound. Tears fell onto the back of my hand, feeling scalding hot. I finished my shower and came out. David Chen was already in bed. He was looking at his phone, a smile on his face. Hearing me come out, he immediately clutched his phone to his chest. “Finished showering?” “Yes.” “Go to sleep soon; you have to get up early tomorrow for business.” He turned over, his back to me. I lay beside him. Listening to his even breathing. The next morning. David Chen left. I took the day off. I took a taxi to Summit Gardens. I sat down at a cafe near the community entrance. Ordered an Americano. The window seat offered a perfect view of the community’s entrance and exit. 10 AM. A red Porsche drove out. The windows were down. A young girl was in the driver’s seat. Wearing sunglasses, with exquisite makeup. In the passenger seat sat a woman. In her forties, very well-maintained, dressed in designer clothes. I had seen that woman’s face before. Seventeen years ago. City People’s Hospital. The cardiology nurses’ station. The nurse who was responsible for giving Cici her injections. Sarah Porte. On the day Cici died, Sarah Porte stood beside David Chen, handing him a tissue. “Mr. Chen, please accept my condolences.” Her voice had been so gentle back then. I watched the Porsche drive away. Took out my phone and looked up Sarah Porte’s name. There was a chain of beauty salons in the city called Elite Beauty. Legal representative: Sarah Porte. Registered capital: one million dollars. Date of establishment: 2005. 2005. The same year David Chen opened his construction company. He told me the company was started with high-interest loans. He used to lie awake at night, worried, losing handfuls of hair. To help him pay off the interest, I worked three jobs a day. Daytime, cashier at the supermarket. Evenings, selling at the night market. Weekends, handing out flyers. I worked myself into the hospital twice with stomach bleeding. David Chen held my hand, crying. “Honey, when I make money, I’ll definitely give you a good life.” His good life. He gave it to Sarah Porte. He gave it to Ashley Chen. I took a sip of my coffee. It was very bitter. My phone vibrated. It was a WeChat message from David Chen. “Honey, I won’t be home for lunch today. Have a big client to meet; might have to drink a bit.” I replied with one word. “Okay.” Then I stood up. Paid the bill. Walked out. Took a taxi to the flagship store of Elite Beauty. 3. Elite Beauty was located in a bustling area of the city center. A three-story storefront, lavishly decorated. I walked in. The receptionist immediately approached. “Hello, madam, do you have an appointment?” She sized me up. My old down jacket, my faded jeans. A hint of disdain flickered in her eyes. “I’m looking for Sarah Porte,” I said. “May I ask who you are?” “I’m David Chen’s wife.” The receptionist froze. Her face changed color. “Please wait a moment.” She picked up the desk phone and dialed a number. Spoke a few hushed words. Two minutes later. A woman in a business suit walked down from upstairs. It wasn’t Sarah Porte. It was Ashley Chen. She walked towards me in high heels. Took off her sunglasses. Sizing me up. The disdain in her eyes was even more obvious than the receptionist’s. “You’re Anya Lin?” She called me by my first name. “I am.” Ashley Chen chuckled. “I thought you were someone important. Turns out you’re just a hag.” She crossed her arms, circling me once. “How many years have you worn these clothes? Are they pilling?” “My dad, honestly, why wouldn’t he even buy you new clothes?” “Oh, I forgot. My dad said you’re extremely stingy, so buying you nice things would just be a waste.” I looked at her. Twenty years old. Young, beautiful, and arrogant. “Where’s Sarah Porte?” I asked. “My mom’s getting a spa; she’s too busy for riff-raff.” Ashley Chen walked over to the sofa and sat down. Crossed her legs. “What do you want with my mom? Money?” She pulled a card from her bag. Tossed it onto the coffee table. “Here’s ten thousand dollars. Go buy some decent clothes. Stop embarrassing my dad.” I didn’t look at the card. I looked at her. “You call David Chen ‘Dad’.” “Yeah.” Ashley Chen raised an eyebrow. “My biological father, is there a problem?” “Do you know he’s married?” “I know,” Ashley Chen said indifferently. “So what? My dad doesn’t love you at all. He just pities you.” “Pities me?” “Yeah. You can’t even have a child. One died of illness.” Ashley Chen’s smile was vicious. “My dad said you’re just a barren old hen. If he didn’t pity you, he would have divorced you ages ago.” Her words pierced my heart. “Barren old hen.” I repeated the words. “Did David Chen say this?” “Of course.” Ashley Chen was triumphant. “My dad loves me very much. He says I’m his only little princess. What are you, anyway?” I took out my phone. Tapped record. “I’ve recorded everything you just said.” Ashley Chen’s face changed. She abruptly stood up. “What are you doing! Delete it!” She rushed over to snatch my phone. I stepped back. She missed, twisted her ankle, and fell to the ground. “Ah!” she screamed. The beauty salon’s security guards immediately rushed over. Helped her up. Ashley Chen pointed at me, furious. “Get her out of here! Now!” Two security guards walked toward me. I put away my phone. “No need to escort me. I’ll leave on my own.” I turned and walked out of the beauty salon. Behind me, Ashley Chen’s insults followed. “Pauper! Old hag! You’ll regret this!” I walked to the street corner. Dialed David Chen’s number. It rang for a long time before he answered. “Hello, honey, what’s wrong? I’m drinking with clients.” The background was very quiet. No sounds of a noisy drinking party. “David Chen, I’m at the Elite Beauty salon entrance.” The other end of the line instantly fell silent. After a full ten seconds. David Chen’s voice, suppressed with anger, came through. “What are you doing there?” “Meeting your little princess.” “Anya Lin! Are you crazy?!” he roared. “What are you causing a scene in someone else’s shop for?!” “Someone else’s shop?” I scoffed. “Isn’t that the shop you opened for Sarah Porte?” “What nonsense are you talking about?!” David Chen was furious. “Sarah Porte is my friend! Ashley is my friend’s daughter! Don’t be unreasonable here!” “A friend’s daughter calls you Dad?” “A friend’s daughter, and you paid full cash for her Porsche?” “David Chen, do you think I’m an idiot?” David Chen took a deep breath. His tone suddenly softened. “Honey, listen to me. Things aren’t what you think.” “Just come home first. I’ll be right back. We’ll talk at home.” I hung up the phone. Went home. I opened my laptop. I work in finance. Although David Chen’s company accounts haven’t been managed by me these past few years, I still have administrator access to view them. I logged into the system. And started checking the books. I looked up the transactions from 2004. That year, Cici fell ill. David Chen said he couldn’t borrow any money. I scrolled to August 10, 2004. Two days before Cici died. There was a thirty-thousand-dollar transfer recorded from the company account. Recipient: Sarah Porte. Notes: House purchase payment. I stared at those words. Thirty thousand dollars. Cici’s surgery fee was exactly thirty thousand dollars. He took the money that could have saved her life and used it to buy a house for his mistress! 4. The door was violently flung open. David Chen rushed in, panting. He was sweating profusely, his tie askew. Seeing me sitting at the computer, he strode over. “Anya Lin! What the hell is wrong with you today?!” He slammed my laptop shut. “What were you doing causing a scene at Sarah Porte’s shop? Do you know how difficult you’ve made things for me?!” I sat in the chair. Looking at him. “Thirty thousand.” David Chen froze. “What thirty thousand?” “August 10, 2004. You transferred thirty thousand dollars to Sarah Porte.” I looked into his eyes. “That was Cici’s life savings.” David Chen’s face instantly drained of color. He took a step back. His gaze shifting evasively. “You… you checked my accounts?” “That was Cici’s life.” My voice was soft, yet trembling. “You’re talking nonsense!” David Chen suddenly raised his voice. “That was money I lent to Sarah Porte! Her family had an emergency at the time!” “An emergency?” I laughed out loud. “Does buying a house count as an emergency?” “David Chen, Cici was lying in the ICU, waiting for money to save her life. You took that money to buy a house for another woman.” “Are you even human?” David Chen flew into a rage. He pointed a finger at my nose. “Don’t you dare bring up old grievances here! The doctors said that with Cici’s illness, even with surgery, she wouldn’t have lived for many years!” “Thirty thousand dollars thrown in would have been a waste!” “I saved that money for our future!” *A waste.* He called his own daughter’s life a waste. I stood up. Slapped him across the face. *Slap!* The sound was sharp. David Chen clutched his face, looking at me in disbelief. “You dared to hit me?” He raised his hand and shoved me hard. I hit the corner of the table. A sharp pain in my waist. “Anya Lin, I’ve tolerated you for too long!” David Chen pointed at me, yelling abuses. “Look at the mess you are now! Always wearing a gloomy face, like a dead person!” “I’m out there making money to support the family every day, what else can you do besides annoy me?” “I’m telling you, Sarah Porte is a hundred times gentler than you! And Ashley is more obedient than your short-lived daughter!” *Short-lived daughter.* He finally spoke his true feelings. I steadied myself by holding the table. I didn’t cry. My tears had dried up seventeen years ago. David Chen panted. He adjusted his clothes. His tone suddenly turned cold and harsh. “Since we’ve laid all our cards on the table, I won’t hide it from you anymore.” “The company’s capital chain is broken. It owes the bank ten million dollars.” “If I don’t plug this hole soon, I’ll go to jail.” He looked at me. “Mortgage your parents’ old house. Take out three million dollars to save the company first.” I looked at him. It felt absurd. “You bought Ashley Chen a one-point-five-million-dollar Porsche, and you opened a ten-million-dollar beauty salon for Sarah Porte.” “Now you’re asking me to sell my parents’ house to save you?” David Chen was self-righteous. “The company is our joint property! If the company goes bankrupt, you’ll be on the hook for the debts too!” “That house is just sitting empty anyway, what’s wrong with using it in an emergency?” “If you don’t put it up, you’re just heartless! You’re a cold-blooded animal!” *Cold-blooded animal.* I took out my phone. Opened Ashley Chen’s social media feed. She had just updated her status. “Daddy says a girl should live in a penthouse. Thanks, Dad, for the river-view apartment! Love you to death!” The post included a picture of the property deed for a river-view apartment. Name: Ashley Chen. Time: This morning. I shoved the screen into David Chen’s face. “Is this what you mean by a broken capital chain?” David Chen’s eyes widened as he saw the screen. His gaze flickered with panic for a second. Then turned to anger. “I promised her that a long time ago! That money can’t be touched!” “Anya Lin, I’m asking you one last time. Are you mortgaging the house or not?” I looked at him. “No, I’m not.” David Chen gritted his teeth. “Fine. You just wait.” He slammed the door shut and left. The room returned to silence. I took out my phone. Dialed a number. “Hello, is this Mr. Jenkins, the lawyer?” Mr. Jenkins was a university classmate of mine, specializing in divorce and economic dispute cases. “Anya Lin? What’s wrong?” “I want a divorce. And I need to investigate David Chen’s hidden and transferred marital assets.” “Okay, bring all your documents to my law firm tomorrow.” Mr. Jenkins paused. “By the way, Anya Lin, there’s something I need to tell you in advance.” “What is it?” “Those assets under David Chen’s name you asked me to investigate earlier. I asked a friend to check.” “He not only bought a house and a car for that Ashley Chen.” “He also, half a month ago, gratuitously transferred eighty percent of your company’s shares to a woman named Sarah Porte.” I clutched my phone tightly. “And,” Mr. Jenkins’s voice was very low. “I found Ashley Chen’s birth certificate.” “The father’s column… it doesn’t say David Chen at all.”

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