Seven Years, A Secret Family

I took a bullet for my husband, Colt, a decorated Delta Force operator. The injury left me barren, but he swore I was all he ever needed.

Seven years later, I found him in a restaurant with another woman and a six-year-old boy who looked just like him. The boy called him "Dada."

My world shattered when I learned his family, his friends, and even my own father knew about his secret life. They all watched as he paraded his mistress, Chelsey, and their son, Jemal, in front of me. He even admitted I was just a "means to an end" for his family's legacy.

When Jemal went missing, Chelsey accused me of kidnapping him. Colt believed her. He locked me in our cellar for three days, a punishment for a crime I didn't commit. "He's not a bastard!" Colt roared when I questioned if the boy was even his. "He's my son! My blood!"

But his eyes darted away, filled with uncertainty.

As I stumbled out of the cellar, bruised and broken, my best friend arrived. "The divorce papers are filed, Em," she whispered fiercely. "It's done." I looked back at Colt, standing stunned on the porch. His empire of lies was crumbling, and I was finally free.

Chapter 1

Emerson POV:

The world went silent around me the moment I saw him. Not the Colt I knew, the one who kissed me goodbye just a few days ago, his uniform sharp, his eyes full of promises. This Colt was different. He was laughing, a deep, easy laugh I hadn't heard in years, as he hoisted a small boy onto his shoulders.

The boy, no older than six, giggled, his hands tangled in Colt's perfectly styled hair. He looked just like Colt. Same unruly dark hair, same mischievous sparkle in his eyes. My stomach churned.

"Dada, faster!" the boy squealed, bouncing on Colt's shoulders.

Dada.

The word ripped through me, a dull, heavy blow to the chest. It echoed in the elegant restaurant, though I knew no one else heard it but me. My husband, Captain Colt Patrick, decorated Delta Force operator, holding another woman's child, a child who called him "Dada."

My vision blurred. I watched them, a perfect, cozy tableau. Colt, effortlessly charming, leaned down to kiss the boy's forehead. A woman, slender and pretty, sat across from them, her hand resting casually on Colt's arm. It was a familiar gesture, one I used to make.

She smiled at him, a possessive, intimate smile. His eyes met hers, and in that fleeting glance, I saw a tenderness that had slowly faded from our own interactions. My breath caught in my throat.

The boy shifted, looking right at me. His eyes, Colt's eyes, were wide and curious. He tilted his head, a mirror image of the man who was supposed to be my husband, my life.

For six years. He' d kept this secret for six years. Each annual "training exercise" was a lie. Each heartfelt call, each