Ex-Wife, Current Wife

The hallway outside the ICU was cold and dim. Gwen Winston pressed herself into the corner, fingers white from the chill.

Three days. She'd been here three days.

Justin's grandfather had fallen from a balcony and was still in emergency care, his life hanging by a thread.

Her husband, Justin Sterling, hadn't shown up once.

She pulled out her phone, numb fingertips sliding across his latest Facebook update: [An entire cruise ship rented out to throw a welcome party for his little sweetheart.]

The lights in the photo glittered like a dream. He was angled toward the woman beside him, his gaze soft enough to melt steel.

Gwen's chest tightened. She was debating whether to call him when the hallway erupted in noise.

A crowd of reporters rushed in, clustered around a man and a woman.

The man walked with a tall, self-assured stride—black wool coat draped over a matching suit, expression carved in cool detachment.

Her husband. Justin.

The woman tucked into his arm wore an ivory pantsuit, long hair draped over her shoulders, whispering something sweet to the little girl holding her hand.

"Mr. Sterling! We heard you and Mrs. Sterling were taking turns keeping vigil. Truly heartwarming!"

"Mrs. Sterling has such grace—what a perfect match!"

"And the little princess! What a beautiful family!"

Their praise crashed over Gwen like waves. Each word sharp enough to sting.

A young reporter whispered, "But who's that woman by the door?"

A senior reporter lowered her voice—but clearly wanted everyone to hear. "Her? The one who climbed into his bed three years ago to get a ring. You see Mr. Sterling even look her way?"

More drifted from the nurses' station. "A man she stole will never look at her willingly. She could stand guard forever—he still wouldn't spare her a glance."

"Lynn looks like the real wife. And that little girl—adorable."

"Word is Mr. Sterling almost died in a car crash years back, and that woman used the chaos to push Lynn out."

Gwen's hand tightened around her paper cup. Hot water sloshed out, scalding her skin red. She barely noticed.

Not far away, Justin reached up to brush a stray lock from Lynn Serena's cheek.

The overhead lights sculpted the profile Gwen had adored for four years, married for three—yet never truly gotten close to.

Those eyes she used to steal glances at across the college library were now overflowing with tenderness. For someone else.

"Mom." A small tug at her coat.

Gwen looked down into her son's clear, quiet eyes.

Three-year-old Charlie Sterling had slipped out of the room. His tiny hands moved in steady signs: [Great-grandpa's finger twitched.]

Her heart skipped. She opened her mouth to call for a doctor, but Justin was already striding toward them.

His gaze dropped to Charlie, and his brow snapped tight. "Who told you to bring him out here?"

Gwen swallowed, her voice raw. "Charlie wanted to see his great-grandfather."

"A mute kid, out here making a spectacle?"

Cold enough to frost glass.

"Take him back. Now."

"Justin!" Her voice trembled. "He's your son!"

"I know." No warmth. Nothing. "Which is exactly why he needs to be hidden. The Sterling family can't afford that embarrassment."

Lynn stepped forward, smoothing things over. "Justin, don't talk about a child that way."

She bent down to the girl beside her. "Nora, go play with Charlie, okay? Be gentle—he isn't in good health."

Nora blinked her big eyes, let go of Lynn's hand, and scampered toward Charlie.

Gwen instinctively shifted Charlie behind her.

"Gwen." Justin's voice iced over further. "Who exactly are you guarding him from?"

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

In the end, she scooped Charlie up and walked toward the elevator. One more second there, and she would fall apart.

They ended up in the hospital's back garden. The late-autumn sky stretched still and empty.

Gwen set Charlie on a bench, signing, Hungry? Mommy can get milk.

Charlie shook his head, grabbing her coat with a soft, silent plea.

She sat beside him, watching his lashes dip low, and her chest clenched. His world was too quiet—no sound, no voice. Even his crying had no volume.

And in Justin's eyes, that silence was her sin.

"What did you eat during pregnancy?"

"Did you take something you shouldn't have?"

"Gwen, do you hate me so much you'd ruin the baby too?"

Three years of accusations. Each one dipped in poison.

"Mute boy!" A sharp little voice cut through the stillness.

Gwen jerked her head up. Nora Serena appeared out of nowhere, making faces at Charlie.

"Mom said you're a mute! You can't talk!"

Nora charged forward and shoved Charlie hard.

He toppled backward, elbow scraping concrete. Blood welled instantly. His eyes widened, tears trembling at the edges, mouth open in a silent cry.

No sound came out. There never was.

"Nora!" Gwen rushed over, pulling the girl away and gathering Charlie into her arms. Her voice shook. "You cannot shove people!"

"He's mute! A mute!" Nora planted her hands on her hips. "Serves him right!"

"Who taught you to say that?" Gwen's whole body trembled.

"Mom! Mom said it! And she said you stole my dad!"

Nora suddenly cut herself off, spinning toward approaching footsteps. In a blink, she transformed—bolting forward with open arms. "Daddy! Ms. Winston yelled at me!"

Gwen turned.

Justin was carrying Nora. Lynn followed close behind. And behind them, Vivian Sterling clicked across the pavement in stilettos.

"Gwen." Justin's voice was ice. "What kind of tantrum are you throwing at a kid?"

"She pushed Charlie!" Gwen pointed at his bleeding elbow. "She called him mute and shoved him to the ground!"

"Kids say things." Justin frowned. "Charlie can't talk. Nora only said what's true."

True.

The word sliced straight through her chest.

"Justin," she whispered, shaking so hard she could barely stand. "Charlie is your son."

"I know." Flat. Empty. "Which is why he needs to be kept out of sight. The Sterling family can't risk the shame."

Vivian stepped forward, disgust twisting her features. "Gwen, why did you bring that mute kid out again? What if the media sees? Does the Sterling name mean nothing to you?"

Gwen looked at all of them.

Her cold husband. Lynn, pretending to be fragile. Vivian, smug like she owned the world.

And she laughed.

Laughed at herself for being a fool three years straight. For believing love could be repaid. For expecting anything from these people.

She bent down and lifted Charlie gently into her arms. Her voice came out steady—terrifyingly calm.

"Justin, you don't have to love me. But if you're ashamed of your own child, you're not worthy of being his father."

She turned to leave.

Charlie's little hand brushed her cheek.

She glanced down. He was signing. Mommy, don't cry.

Only then did she realize tears were streaming down her face.

She held him close and made a silent promise.

Charlie, I'm taking you away.

This time, she was never looking back.