Chapter 1 - The Waterproof Secret
For my daughter Ariel's third birthday, Glen and I hosted a small pool party at our house.
Her preschool friends came to celebrate, along with our relatives.
Even my stepmother, Clara, showed up.
This surprised me because she and I had never been close.
Ever since Clara married my father fifteen years earlier, she had treated me like an outsider.
I had been a difficult teenager, but I never gave her a reason to dislike me.
Over time, we simply drifted apart and rarely saw each other.
I decided to appreciate the effort she made by attending today.
The afternoon couldn't have gone better.
Some guests splashed around in the pool while others gathered around the food table.
The backyard was full of music, sunshine, and excited children.
After taking a swim, Clara climbed out of the pool wearing a stylish one-piece swimsuit.
Just then, Ariel ran past with a group of friends.
Without warning, she stopped and pointed directly at Clara's stomach.
She shouted loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Mommy, Daddy's in there!"
The entire backyard erupted in laughter.
I laughed too before realizing how awkward the moment had become.
Embarrassed, I hurried over and gently lowered Ariel's hand.
I reminded her that pointing at someone's stomach wasn't polite.
Instead of dropping the subject, she looked up at me with complete seriousness.
"But Daddy is in there, and you have to save him!"
Glen was only a few feet away, watching the scene with a confused shrug.
Hoping to reassure her, I pointed toward him.
"Sweetheart, Daddy is standing right here."
The moment I said it, Ariel burst into tears.
She shook her head over and over.
She insisted that her daddy was still on Clara's stomach.
Clara rolled her eyes and walked over to a lounge chair to relax.
I stayed beside Ariel, trying to calm her down.
She suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled me straight back toward Clara.
She kept pointing insistently at Clara's stomach.
Curious now, I leaned in for a closer look.
That's when I finally noticed exactly what my daughter had been trying to show me.
Clara was wearing a clear, waterproof phone pouch hanging from her neck.
The plastic pouch was resting flat against her bare stomach.
The phone screen was illuminated brightly in the afternoon sun.
My daughter wasn't pointing at a baby bump.
She was pointing at the wallpaper photo on Clara's lock screen.
It was a picture of my husband, Glen.
He was fast asleep, completely naked, tangled in the distinct silk sheets of Clara's guest bedroom.
Ariel recognized his face and thought he was trapped inside the glowing device.
A chill shot through my entire body.
"No, this can't be possible," I whispered.
"Clara, what the hell does this mean?" I demanded loudly.
I immediately called Glen over.
The instant his eyes landed on the same thing I had just seen, every trace of color drained from his face.
He lunged forward to grab the phone, but I snatched it from Clara's neck first.
Just as my fingers gripped the plastic, a new text message popped up on the screen.
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It was from a contact saved only as "The Clinic".
The message read, "Clara, the DNA results confirm that Glen is not Ariel's biological father."
