I always thought little kids couldn’t lie,” but when my daughter Lisa whispered, “I can’t keep secrets from Mommy,” I knew something was wrong. She had answered my husband’s phone, and a woman’s voice cooed, “Daddy and I have lots of secrets. Be a good girl and keep this just between us.”

I snatched the phone. “Who the hell is this?”

Silence. Then—click.

Mark walked in, unfazed. “Spam, probably,” he shrugged. Liar. Then, he announced a late-night “work meeting.” I followed him.

Instead of his office, he met a woman—elegant, confident. She hugged him, close.

“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.

Mark froze. The woman smirked. “Oh, you must be his wife.”

I turned to him. “How long have you been lying to me?”

Then she laughed. “You think I’m his mistress?” She crossed her arms. “Tell her, or I will.”

Mark exhaled. “Laura… meet Emily. My sister.”

Impossible. His sister died years ago.

“She ran away,” Emily said. “And now, I found him.”

Tears welled up. “You should have told me.”

“I was scared,” Mark admitted.

Emily smiled. “Maybe I could get to know my niece?”

For the first time that night, I smiled back.