I Kept the Real Secret

As the wind chimes at the entrance jingled noisily, I sat on the velvet sofa in the living room, flipping through a magazine. The servant rushed in, panic written on her face, her voice trembling. "Mrs. Seinfeld, there's a woman outside looking for Mr. Seinfeld, and... she's pregnant." I paused, my fingertips paling as I clenched the magazine. Rumors about Maddox Seinfeld having lovers—I wasn't hearing them for the first time. But before, I always suppressed them, never asked, believing that after so many years of marriage, some trust and dignity should remain. "Let her in." I put down the magazine, my voice so calm it surprised even me. A woman entered, stepping in stilettos, wearing a striking pink dress, her belly slightly swollen—about four or five months along. She walked straight up to me, chin held high, eyes brimming with defiance. "You must be Ada Ortiz, right? My name is Skye Jordan." She deliberately pushed out her belly slightly, then reached out to caress it, her tone tinged with pride. "I'm carrying Maddox's child. He promised me that once the baby is born, he will marry me." I sized her up, a trace of contrived vulnerability in her brows and eyes, though greed was impossible to conceal in her gaze. "Maddox isn't home." I replied calmly, signaling a servant to pour a glass of water. "I know he's not here. I came to see you." Skye pulled over a chair and sat down, her posture as casual as if she were in her own home. "I just want to tell you, it's time to step aside and yield your place." The servant brought a glass of water and placed it in front of her, but she didn't touch it; she kept staring straight at me. "Maddox loves me and my child. You've occupied Mrs. Seinfeld's position for so many years—it's enough already." I lifted the tea in front of me and gently blew on the foam. "Don't go anywhere before Maddox returns." Skye Jordan was taken aback, as if she hadn't expected this reaction from me. "On what grounds are you stopping me?" She stood up, her tone sharp, "I'm carrying Maddox's child!" "Maddox's child?" I set down the teacup, my gaze falling on her belly. "Is it? We won't know without a test." I called out toward the door, "Otto," and the home's driver and bodyguard immediately entered. "Otto, escort Ms. Jordan to the guest room upstairs. Without my permission, she is not allowed to leave." "How dare you!" Skye's face went pale as she instinctively covered her stomach. "I'm calling the police!" "Go ahead." I looked at her, my eyes cold as ice. Skye's arrogance instantly diminished; her lips moved, but she said nothing further. Otto stepped forward and made a polite gesture, as if saying "please." Skye bit her lip and shot me a fierce glare, but in the end, she reluctantly followed Otto upstairs. Silence returned to the living room, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock. I leaned back against the sofa, closed my eyes, and my heart throbbed with a piercing ache. Married to Maddox Seinfeld for five years, I had transformed from a naive girl into the composed Mrs. Seinfeld I am today. I had believed that though our marriage wasn't fiery or tumultuous, it could last with steady, quiet endurance. It turned out I was the only one hoping.