His Secret Twins, My Silent Goodbye

Prologue I married the man who took me in after my parents died. He used to be my entire world, the husband I thought would love me forever. Yet only a few years into our marriage, he kicked me out into the cold for another woman and her son. At that time, I was already carrying his twins. When I fell down the stairs and lost our babies, he didn't even know he had been a father. I lay in that hospital bed, drowning in grief all by myself, while he was on his knees across town, building Lego sets with another child and playing happy family with another woman. That was the moment my heart turned to ash. I finally agreed to the divorce. Clara's POV My parents gave their lives to save the Sterlings. Julian raised me, and eventually, he made me his wife. Only a few years in, he turned against me for someone else. I had put everything I had into this marriage. I was over two months pregnant, clinging to the naive hope that once our babies arrived, he’d finally look at me the way he used to. Instead, he labeled me a monster and ordered his staff to throw all my belongings out of the main house. So, I gave up. I decided to accept Arthur Sterling’s terms and sign the divorce papers. I wasn't going to wait for Julian anymore. Back when we first tied the knot, everyone in New York envied me. They said I was the luckiest girl alive, spoiled rotten as Mrs. Sterling. A few months ago, I caught him with that woman and her kid. Standing together, they looked like the picture-perfect family. He just brushed it off. He claimed Serena had once saved his life, and that the boy was her late friend's kid. He told me he was only paying back a debt. Tonight, I was in the kitchen cooking dinner when I heard a boy crying in the guest suite. Before I could even check on him, Julian stormed in. He grabbed my wrist in a bruising grip and yanked me straight into the dining room. "Did you do that?" He looked down at me, his voice dangerously low. "Clara, I asked you a question." "No!" My wrist throbbed in his grip. "What happened to him?" "What happened?" He let out a cold laugh. "He was playing just fine. The next second, his head hit the corner of the table. You're the only one who went into that room. You tell me—if it wasn't you, who was it?" "He was fine when I brought the soup in," I said, struggling against his hold. "Check the cameras. Pull up the security footage!" "The cameras are down," he said, ice coating his voice. "Conveniently right at that exact moment." I was carrying his baby, and he had no idea. Instinctively, I shielded my lower belly with one hand. "Just because the cameras are down doesn't mean I did it," I pleaded, looking into his eyes. "Julian, please. Trust me." "Trust you?" He acted like he’d just heard the funniest joke, squeezing my wrist even harder. "Clara, don't forget where you came from. Your parents died just so you could marry into my family. Every bite of food you eat, every piece of designer clothing on your back—I gave it all to you. I raised you, only to raise a vicious, ungrateful snake." My parents' sacrifice had been reduced to a balance sheet. Every meal, every coat I wore in this house was just another line of debt. "A snake?" My eyes burned with tears as I stared at him. "I only went in there to bring him soup! I didn't even go near his bed! Did you see me touch him with your own eyes?" "You want proof?" He took a threatening step closer. "He was completely fine. You walk in, the cameras magically cut out, and nobody saw a thing. You're telling me that's just a coincidence?" I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Serena's soft, comforting voice drifted from the guest room, and the boy's cries gradually died down. Julian's face grew even darker. The maids stood around with their heads down, terrified to breathe. Suddenly, he swung his arm across the table. The dishes I had spent hours preparing crashed to the floor, shattering into sharp pieces. Hot soup dripped off the edge, splashing all over my shoes. "Someone as twisted as you doesn't deserve to stay in this house," he said, turning his head away. "Get her things out of here." "Julian," I took a step forward, my voice breaking. "Why are you doing this to me?" "Why?" He glared down at me, his jaw clenched tight. "Because you crossed the line." "I didn't do anything!" My voice finally trembled. "You didn't even bother asking for my side of the story!" "What is there to ask?" He shoved my hand away, sending me stumbling back. "I saw the cut on his forehead with my own eyes. Clara, why couldn't you just accept him?" "I couldn't accept him?" I let out a bitter, choked laugh as tears poured down my cheeks. "Julian, you've spent every single day of the past six months with them! When did I ever object?" "Save the lies," he said, looking away in disgust. "I don't have time to watch you cry." All I wanted was one sentence from him: *I know you didn't hurt him. I believe you.* I stood there the entire night, waiting for those words. He never said them. Footsteps echoed from the hall as Serena came out to get water. In an instant, Julian's icy glare vanished. He hurried over, his voice instantly softening as he asked if the boy was okay. Serena glanced my way, an expectant look in her eyes. Without looking back at me once, Julian wrapped an arm around her shoulder and walked back into the room. The door clicked shut behind them. I stood there, frozen amid the shattered porcelain and spilled soup, from dusk until dawn. The maids kept their distance. Nobody dared to clean up the mess. A new girl took half a step toward me to help, but an older maid yanked her right back. I got the message. Nobody in this house was allowed to care about me anymore. I grew up here. Yet all it took was one word from him, and I was thrown out like trash, without a single person speaking up on my behalf. I pulled my shoulders back and straightened my spine. I refused to let them see me break. Throughout that endless night, every sweet memory of him flashed through my mind. For a second, I thought about banging on that door. I wanted to tell him I was pregnant, to beg him to believe me. My hand hovered in the air, but then his hushed, tender voice came through the wood, comforting the child. My hand dropped back to my side. I realized something: even if I had this baby, the moment those two cried, he’d throw me and our child away without a second thought. I had waited six whole months for him to come back to me. All I got in return was a floor covered in broken glass. I was done waiting. I could raise my babies on my own. As the morning light cracked through the windows, I moved my stiff fingers and pulled out my phone. I dialed Arthur Sterling's private number. His people had been waiting months for me to finally sign the divorce papers. "I agree," I whispered, my voice cracked and dry. "I'll sign." The person on the other end answered immediately, as if they knew this call was coming. "Smart girl, Clara," the voice said smoothly. "Just one quick reminder. If Julian notices anything suspicious before the ink dries..." A brief pause hung in the air. "...Your parents won't be resting peacefully in their graves anymore." I gripped the phone tightly as the morning sun flooded the room. I didn't argue. I just agreed. My parents were gone. If I couldn't protect myself, the least I could do was protect their final resting place. From this moment on, until the divorce was final, Julian couldn't suspect a single thing.Clara's POV I walked out into the sterile white hospital hallway. My babies were gone. Right after that phone call with Arthur, I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs. Just like that, our babies slipped away into nothingness. The doctor delivered the news gently, telling me my body had already been too frail, that the pregnancy had been high-risk from the start. I didn't shed a single tear. From the day I took that test, I had treated this pregnancy as the final thread holding him and me together. I had thought about who the babies would look like. I had wondered if the day he held them in his arms, he might finally look at me and say he was sorry. Standing amid shattered porcelain all night until sunrise, I had already known he didn't love me anymore. Now, my babies were gone too. I couldn't even shed a tear. At the far end of the hallway was the waiting area. Through the glass panel of the door, I saw Julian kneeling on the floor, patiently stacking building blocks with that little boy. Serena sat beside them, peeling an orange and feeding it to him piece by piece. The boy took a bite, then cheerfully shoved the other half straight into Serena's mouth with a bright, ringing laugh. I stood by the doorway for a long time. He would gladly drop to his knees on a cold floor to play with another woman’s child, while our babies—the ones I had just lost—remained completely unknown to him. Two strangers sitting nearby whispered under their breath. "Look at that family. They look so happy." "I know. The dad is so handsome, the mom is gorgeous, and the kid is adorable." Noticing me standing there by myself, a woman asked kindly, "Where’s your family? Are you here all alone?" "I don't have a family," I said quietly. The woman blinked, surprised. She took one look at my pale, hollow face and didn't ask another question. Saying those words out loud actually settled the storm inside me. My family was right there on the other side of that door, holding up toy blocks for someone else. Back at the Sterling estate, I cleared out everything he had ever bought me over the years. I packed it all into a single moving box and shoved it into the corner. The last thing left was our framed photograph. He had taken me on a trip to the coast to take that picture. I was laughing into the ocean breeze, and his arms were wrapped tightly around me from behind. When that picture was taken, I truly believed we would grow old together. I took the frame off the wall and smashed it against the hardwood floor. Glass shattered in every direction. I dropped down on my knees, using my fingernails to scratch at his face, scraping over and over until his features were completely ruined. The door pushed open. Julian walked in, followed by Serena and the boy. "They're moving into the main house from now on," he said flatly. "Clear a bedroom for them." My response came instantly: "Okay." He paused, caught off guard by how readily I agreed. "You don't have to move out," he added, his tone softening just a fraction. "The main house is big enough. They'll take the east wing. You stay on the west side." "No need," I said, putting down the ruined frame. "Any room works for me." In the past, I would spend days debating with him over every piece of decor. Now, I didn't care which room I slept in, because I knew I wouldn't be staying much longer anyway. The boy peeked timidly from behind Julian’s legs, offering me a small wooden carving. "F-For you." I reached out to take it. The second my fingers brushed the wood, a sharp splinter hidden inside the joint sliced through my flesh. Blood welled up and dripped from my hand. The boy burst into dramatic tears with a loud wail. Serena lunged forward, gathering him protectively in her arms, her voice dripping with blame: "Why can't you be more careful? You terrified him!" Julian stepped up immediately, shielding both of them behind his back, and shoved me back with his hand. Unprepared, I stumbled, and my lower back slammed hard against the heavy doorframe. Dark spots danced across my vision. "You can't even take something gently from a child?" he hissed through clenched teeth. "He was trying to be sweet, and this is how you react?" "There's a splinter inside it," I whispered, holding my bruised back. "You really don't stop lying, do you?" He let out a mocking sneer. "It’s a smooth wooden toy. How could there possibly be a splinter?" I opened my hand to show him, using my other hand to pry the carving slightly apart so the sharp jagged edge inside was clearly visible. "Can't you even take one close look?" I held the bloody hand closer to him. "Right here, in the groove." He shielded the boy and stepped back half a pace. "Go wrap your hand up. Stop scaring the boy with your blood." "Julian," I looked up into his eyes. "I didn't hurt him." "Enough," he snapped, cutting me off cold. "Don't bring this drama up in front of the kid." My bloody hand was right there in front of his face, yet he didn't even flick his eyes toward it. I had just gone through an operation he knew nothing about. My hand was gushing blood, and he couldn't care less. In this household, I wasn't even considered credible evidence. I turned around and walked upstairs without looking back. Behind me, Serena's sweet voice coaxed the child, followed by Julian's deep, gentle replies. Back in my room, I shut the door and sank onto the edge of the mattress. The cut wasn't long, but it went deep enough that pale edges of flesh poked through. I didn't bother getting a first-aid kit. I just rested my hand against my knee, watching crimson drops fall one by one onto the floorboards. Downstairs, Serena laughed, and the boy giggled along with her. Their sounds drifted easily up the staircase. Moments later, Julian's chuckle joined in. Listening to the three of them laughing together, I counted the days in my head: how many days until the divorce was finalized, how many more days I had to survive under this roof. I clenched my bloody hand into a fist, then let it go.Clara's POV Before sunrise the next day, I was violently dragged out of bed. Julian was standing at my doorway, his face dark with fury. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist in a vice grip and dragged me down the hall. I hadn't even slipped my shoes on properly. My bare heels caught hard on the doorframe, but he didn't slow down for a second. The dining room was blindingly bright. The little boy sat in a chair, his skin flared up with angry red hives, sobbing hysterically. Serena sat beside him, gently rubbing his back. The moment I walked in, she wiped at the corners of her eyes. A young maid cowered near the wall. Seeing me step through the doorway, she visibly shuddered. "Speak," Julian ordered, letting go of me and jerking his chin toward the girl. The maid swallowed hard, twisting her apron in trembling hands. "It was... Mrs. Sterling told me to do it. She said the boy scratched her hand yesterday, so she told me to slip something into his snack to make him break out." The dining room fell dead silent, save for the boy's relentless sniffling. "I never did that," I looked at the maid. "When on earth did I ever tell you to do such a thing?" The maid kept her head down, too terrified to meet my gaze. "Last night... you caught me in the hallway and told me." "I was in my bedroom the entire night," I said steadily. "Who can verify your story?" "Stop," Julian said coldly. Only then did Serena look up, fresh tears immediately spilling over her cheeks. She grabbed Julian's sleeve. "Julian, please don't do this. I'll leave right now. I'll take him and go. Please don't be angry with her, and don't fight in front of my baby." "Clara," Julian said, immediately shifting to block her behind his body, glaring back at me. "They're already leaving! What more do you want?" "Whether she leaves or stays is her business," I said. "Don't pin things on me that I didn't do." "You didn't do it?" He barked out a laugh. "Why would a maid frame you out of nowhere? She has no reason to hate you." "No reason to hate me," I repeated, turning my gaze to the shaking girl by the wall. "Then tell me, what did I give you? Or did someone else give you something to say this?" The maid's shoulders hitched, and she ducked her head even lower. "Shut up," Julian growled. "You're good at intimidating people, aren't you?" "I'm not intimidating anyone," I kept my voice calm. "Julian, ask her. Where did I speak to her? Was it face to face, or did I message her? Aside from her word, does she have any actual proof?" A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. I caught that hesitation. But seeing it only made my chest ache more, because I knew that if he just asked one more question, there might still be a path forward for me in this house. Suddenly, Serena whimpered softly that the child wasn't breathing well, and the boy wailed louder. Julian whipped around instantly to soothe the boy, rubbing his back and asking where it hurt. When he turned back around, the slight flicker of doubt in his eyes was completely gone. "Only you would do something this disgusting," he stated coldly. In the end, he didn't ask a single follow-up question. In his mind, I had always been the kind of monster who would do this. "From today on, you're the only one taking care of him," he handed down my sentence. "You are not allowed to leave his side. No one is allowed to cover for you. You don't close your eyes to sleep. You stay until he fully recovers, and guards will be stationed outside the door." "You want me to take care of him alone?" I stared at him. "He cries through the night. How am I supposed to manage that on my own?" "Why couldn't you?" He looked down at me with disdain. "If you had the heart to harm him, you have the stamina to watch over him." "When did I ever harm him?" A hollow laugh escaped my lips. "Julian, since Serena moved in, have you investigated a single thing before blaming me?" "No need to investigate," he turned his back. "Get someone in here." Two security guards stepped forward, grabbing my arms on both sides. "Take her to the boy's room," he said, not even glancing back. "Post guards outside. If she tries to take one step out, drag her right back in." I didn't fight them. Yesterday, I lost our babies. Today, he forced me to nurse another woman’s child. I wasn't going to waste my breath arguing anymore. All I needed was to get through these few days in peace. As the guards escorted me out, I caught the faint whiff of Serena's perfume as I passed her. "Julian," Serena said softly, leaning into his side. "I'll go check on him in a bit. Please don't be too angry." Resting against his chest, she glanced up at me. There was a fleeting spark of smug triumph in her eyes, so quick it almost seemed like a hallucination. They hauled me into the room, and the heavy door slammed shut behind me. Guards stayed right outside. Through the wood, I could hear their hushed chatter. On the bed, the boy cried loudly, his voice turning raspier with every scream. I twisted my fingers together until my knuckles turned stark white. *Julian,* I thought to myself, *why did you convict me on nothing more than someone else's word?*Clara's POV The lights in that room never went out. Guards stood watch outside the door, checking constantly through the glass pane to see if I was awake. Whenever the boy threw a tantrum, I had to drag myself up to pat him back to sleep, over and over, all through the night. No one was allowed to take my place. Anyone who tried was turned away at the door. I hauled myself up time and time again. I could barely keep my eyes open, yet I still had to reach out and check his forehead for a fever. Every time my feet touched the floor, a soft noise clicked from just outside the door. At the time, I didn't pay attention to what that sound was. All I knew was that I had been jolted awake yet again. I remembered what he had told me years ago: even if I caused the biggest disaster on earth, he would stand in front of me and handle it. I was young back then. I believed every word. I treated him as the only person in the entire world I could ever lean on. I held onto that promise for over a decade, pulling it out to comfort myself whenever things got hard. Now, the man holding me hostage in this room was him. Turns out that promise had an expiration date. It expired the exact moment someone else walked into his life. Propping myself up against the headboard, I let out a dry laugh that ended in silent tears. By the time several days had passed, I completely lost track of time. The fluorescent lights burned overhead day and night. I couldn't tell if it was morning or afternoon. All I knew was that if the child cried, I soothed him; if he stopped, I sat there. The second I drifted off, he’d scream again. Once, completely running on empty, I slumped against the edge of the bed clutching a blanket, dosing off for a second. The guard outside instantly tapped on the glass. Not loud, but enough to wake me. I stood straight back up. My stomach burned with hunger, but when meals were pushed through the door, I could barely force down two bites before nausea hit. The trays sat there, growing cold, until the staff cleared them away. That afternoon, the door swung open. Serena walked in. The delicate, innocent act she put on downstairs was completely gone. She sat down in the armchair, crossing her legs, looking me up and down like I was dirt. The boy lay on the bed, turning his head toward me to snap, "Why haven't you dropped dead yet? Once you're dead, no one will steal Daddy from me!" I stood beside the bed, my hand freezing mid-air. A kid that age couldn't come up with those words on his own. Someone had clearly been whispering them into his ear. Serena smiled, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. She signaled for a maid to bring in the cardboard box from my room, tipped it open, and dumped everything onto the floor right in front of me. My watch hit the tile with a sharp clink, and a folded note drifted down by my feet. "Look at all this junk," Serena said languidly. "Clara, you're just an orphan. What makes you think you deserve things that never belonged to you?" I crouched down to gather my belongings. "Look at that watch," Serena said, tapping the floor with the tip of her designer heel. "He gave you that, right? I have one too. Mine is much nicer." "Go on, pick them up," she watched me crouch on the floor. "Clean every last bit up." "These belong to me," I said, keeping my head down. "Yours?" Serena laughed mockingly. "Everything in this house belongs to the Sterlings. What makes you think anything is yours?" I had heard that exact sentence twice in two days—once from Julian's mouth, and once from hers. They sounded exactly alike. "He gave me this watch, and he wrote this note," I said, picking up the watch from the floor. "You say you have a watch from him too, but is your watch the same as mine?" The smirk on Serena's face froze for a fraction of a second. "Why wouldn't it be?" She quickly plastered the sweet smile back on. "He bought you a watch, and he bought me one too. He wrote you notes, and he'll write them for me from now on." "Then wait for him to do it," I said, tucking the watch into my pocket. "Once he writes you one, then you can come compare yourself to me." Serena's smile completely vanished, her eyes locked onto the watch tucked against my chest for a long, silent moment. "If you can have it," Serena said, kicking the cardboard box aside with her toe, "why shouldn't I?" I kept my head down, smoothing out the crumpled note before tucking it securely into my sleeve. If people in this house hated seeing me live comfortably, then I would leave. Simple as that. Serena stood up, walked to the doorway, and deliberately turned back to instruct the guards stationed outside. "Whenever the boy wakes up tonight, wake her up immediately." "Yes, ma'am," the guard outside replied. Over the next few days, I lost count of how many times I was forced awake. The faint clicking of a pen taking notes outside the door never seemed to stop. I barely slept. I could hardly force a single bite of food down my throat. By the end, my hands were shaking so violently that I couldn't even hold a glass of water, spilling it all over myself. I tried to stand up, but my knees gave out from beneath me, and I collapsed against the edge of the bed. Right before everything went black, I heard someone shout from the hallway, followed by frantic, chaotic footsteps rushing toward the door. My last conscious thought was a quiet relief: *Finally, I can get some sleep.*