There was also a deed for a condominium purchased in cash just forty minutes away.
I realized the truth slowly, painfully.
My husband had been supporting another family.
For more than three decades.
Thomas had been living a double life.
While I was standing there trying to process it, voices suddenly appeared behind me.
Two women stood at the entrance of the storage unit.
One was in her mid-50s. The other looked about thirty.
The older woman looked at me carefully.
“You must be Margaret,” she said.
“Yes,” I replied quietly. “And you’re his mistress.”
She looked shocked. “Mistress? Thomas told me you two had been separated for years — that you stayed married only for appearances.”
My heart sank.
He had lied to both of us.
The younger woman stepped forward. She had Thomas’s eyes.
“I’m Sofia,” she said softly. “He was my father.”
For a moment, the world felt like it was collapsing. Forty-two years of memories — anniversaries, dinners, ordinary Thursdays — suddenly looked different.
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