Before she could finish, the gate creaked. Familiar footsteps echoed, and Peter entered, suitcase in hand. His face paled when he saw me.
— “What are you doing here?” he stuttered.
I stood, fury blazing.
— “Your so-called ‘business trip to England’… was that just a cover so you could secretly care for your illegitimate son?”
The room turned suffocating. My mother-in-law clutched the baby, my father-in-law froze in the doorway, and sweat beaded on Peter’s forehead.
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