He Stole My Baby and Gave Her to His Mistress

On the third anniversary of my baby's death, David Delgado said he'd go with me to visit the grave.

I felt bad about how many back-to-back shifts he'd been pulling, so I offered to pick him up myself.

When I opened the GPS, my breath caught.

There were two home addresses pinned to the top.

One was our place: Unit 9, Nebula Heights.

The other was Number 7, Emerald Bay Villa.

It had been pinned there for three years.

——

My phone buzzed. A message from him: "Meeting ran long. Next year, okay?"

Outside the window, his familiar Maybach flew past.

By the time I came back to my senses, I was already parked at the entrance to the villa district.

Emerald Bay was the most exclusive neighborhood in the city. As far as I knew, David didn't own any property here.

"You're looking for Mr. Delgado? And you say you're his wife?" The security guard let out a short laugh. "Give me a break. Everyone here knows Mr. Delgado and his wife. They've been living here five, six years now. Young lady, you really ought to find something better to do with your time."

A sharp sting in my chest. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold my phone. I pulled up our marriage certificate, stiff as a board, and held it out.

The guard gave me a strange, almost pitying look. Then he shook his head.

I didn't want to make trouble for him. The moment he turned around, I slipped through the gate.

A row of low hedges ran along the perimeter wall. Through the iron fence, I could see into the gardens beyond.

I ran five hundred meters along the wall.

Then I stopped.

The familiar Maybach. The license plate with all those eights. On the garden lawn stood an enormous arch of pink and blue balloons.

The banner read: "Happy 3rd Birthday, Pete!"

Three years old.

Today.

If my baby had lived, he would have been three.

My head throbbed. The aftermath of losing my child had tormented me for three full years. One thousand and ninety-five days and nights.

During the ten-minute drive, I'd run through every possibility. Maybe he was dropping off a client. Maybe he was planning a surprise for me. Maybe he'd gotten into some kind of trouble and was trying to handle it before I found out.

David wouldn't lie to me.

He especially wouldn't lie to me on our baby's memorial day.

After all, we had loved each other so deeply once.

I didn't want to jump to conclusions.

But in that moment, the truth shattered every excuse I'd built.

A child's laughter drifted from the yard.

A long table had been set up on the lawn, covered end to end with cake and presents and snacks.

David Delgado was crouching on the grass, a little boy cradled in his arms.

The boy wore a tiny blue suit, his cheeks puffed out as he leaned toward the candles on the cake.

A woman stood beside them. Long hair spilling over her shoulders, a white dress, clapping her hands with a bright smile.

"One, two, three..."

My nails dug into my palms.

Today was the third anniversary of my child's death.

And he was here, celebrating another child's third birthday.

"Good job! Pete's the best!"

The woman bent down and kissed the boy's cheek.

David had his arm around the child, grinning so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners.

That kind of smile. I hadn't seen it on his face in a long time.

"Daddy, I made a wish!"

The little boy tipped his head back, his voice soft and milky.

"What did you wish for?"

"I want Daddy and Mommy to be with me every single day!"

David pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Daddy promises."

Daddy.

I could hear my own breathing, ragged and heavy, like a person drowning.

My hands were shaking.

Every instinct screamed at me to charge in there and demand answers, to flip that table over, to ask him what our child had ever meant to him.

But I didn't move.

Because I knew David Delgado too well.

If I stormed in now, I'd be met with a thousand explanations.

"You're misunderstanding."

"She's a client's daughter."

"The boy belongs to a friend. We're just watching him."

He would find a hundred different ways to turn my fury into hysteria.