Chapter 6: The Secret Behind Our Ten Years

For several seconds after Mrs. Carter finished speaking, I couldn't find my voice.

Blake had told his parents that he intended to marry me. He had said it only weeks before our tenth anniversary, yet on the night that should have belonged to us, he had placed a ring on Nicole's finger instead.

“Mrs. Carter, are you sure?” I finally asked.

“Of course, dear. Blake came to see us after dinner. He said he had spent ten years with someone who had always stood by him, and he wanted to make things right. He even asked me what kind of wedding flowers you liked.”

My eyes burned.

For a brief, foolish moment, hope rose inside me. Perhaps there was an explanation. Perhaps something had happened that I didn't understand.

Then I remembered the way Blake had looked at Nicole when he proposed. His voice had been steady, his expression sincere, and his promises had sounded exactly like the ones he had once made to me.

Whatever he had planned before, he had chosen her in the end.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “But whatever Blake intended before, he has already made his decision.”

Mrs. Carter sighed. “I know he has done something terrible. I just don't understand why.”

Neither did I.

After we ended the call, I sat in silence until the room grew dark around me.

I had spent ten years believing that our relationship was built on honesty. We had kept it secret because of company policy, but I had never imagined that secrecy itself might have allowed Blake to hide things from me.

The following morning, I went to work early and requested copies of the records relating to my department's recent projects. I needed something concrete to focus on, something that belonged to my professional life rather than the wreckage of my personal one.

I was reviewing a report when my assistant appeared at the door.

“Ms. Cooper, Mrs. Carter is downstairs. She says she needs to speak with you.”

My heart tightened.

I went to the reception area and found Blake's mother sitting on a sofa with a small envelope in her hands.

“I'm sorry to come without warning,” she said as I approached. “But I thought you should see this before you make any decisions about Blake.”

She handed me the envelope.

Inside was a printed photograph of Blake and Nicole at a restaurant. They were sitting close together, and Nicole's hand rested on his arm. The date at the bottom showed that the photograph had been taken several months earlier.

I stared at it.

“Where did you get this?”

“A family friend sent it to me. I didn't want to believe anything was happening. Blake told us Nicole was only a colleague, and I trusted him.”

I turned the photograph over. There was a short handwritten note on the back.

“Some promises are made long before anyone else hears them.”

My fingers went cold.

“Do you think they were together before he proposed?” I asked.

“I don't know,” Mrs. Carter replied. “But I know you deserve the truth.”

I thanked her and put the photograph away. I couldn't accuse Blake of anything based on one picture, but I could no longer ignore the possibility that he had been lying to me for longer than I realized.

At noon, I received a message from Lucas Parker asking me to stop by his office.

When I arrived, he noticed the tension in my expression.

“Is everything all right?”

“I'm not sure anymore.”

He didn't press me for details. Instead, he gestured toward the chair across from his desk.

“Your new team assignment begins next week. I wanted to make sure you have everything you need to succeed.”

I opened the folder he had prepared. The work was demanding, but the expectations were clear, and the resources were more than adequate.

“Thank you,” I said. “I'll do my best.”

“I have no doubt about that.”

As I stood to leave, Lucas spoke again.

“Winnie, I know people are talking about what happened at the event. If anyone uses your personal life to interfere with your work, report it to me or HR. You don't have to handle workplace harassment alone.”

I looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

“I'll keep that in mind.”

For the first time in days, I felt that my career might remain a place where I could stand on my own feet.

That afternoon, Blake appeared outside my office once more.

I almost asked security to escort him away, but something in his expression made me pause.

“Please,” he said. “Just ten minutes. After that, I won't bother you again.”

I crossed my arms.

“You said you had something to explain yesterday. You had your chance.”

“I know. But you spoke to my mother, didn't you?”

My expression hardened.

“That isn't your concern.”

He looked down, then slowly raised his eyes.

“Nicole and I became close while you were helping my family. I should have told you. I should never have allowed things to reach this point.”

The words struck me like a physical blow.

“How long?” I asked.

He hesitated.

“Blake, how long have you been involved with her?”

“I don't know when it changed.”

“That's not an answer.”

He swallowed. “We started talking more often about six months ago. At first, I told myself it was harmless. Then she began telling me that she understood the pressure I was under, that she wanted to support me without expecting anything in return.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

I had supported him for ten years, through career failures, family illness, and every private crisis he had ever shared with me. Yet he had somehow convinced himself that Nicole understood him better because she made fewer demands.

“And what did you tell her about me?”

His silence answered before he did.

“I told her we were drifting apart.”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“We were drifting apart? Blake, I was still planning our anniversary. I was preparing to tell you that we were going to have a child.”

His head snapped up.

“A child?”

I froze.

For a moment, the corridor seemed to disappear around us.

Blake stared at me, his face draining of color.

“Winnie, what did you just say?”

I pressed my lips together. I had not planned to reveal the pregnancy this way, and I certainly had not planned to reveal it to a man who had chosen someone else.

“I went to the hospital two weeks ago,” I said quietly. “I'm pregnant.”

He looked as though the floor had vanished beneath him.

“You're carrying my baby?”

“Yes.”

He reached toward me, then stopped himself.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

I stared at him.

“When exactly was I supposed to tell you, Blake? While you were putting a ring on Nicole's finger? While everyone congratulated you? Or while she slapped me and called me shameless?”

He flinched.

“I didn't know.”

“You didn't ask.”

He covered his face with one hand. For the first time since the proposal, he looked genuinely shaken.

“Winnie, please. We need to talk about the baby. We can work this out. I'll end things with Nicole. I'll explain everything to my family. I'll do whatever you want.”

I stepped back.

“Don't make promises just because you're frightened of the consequences.”

“I'm not frightened. I love you.”

I looked at him for a long moment.

“Then why did you choose her?”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

That was when I understood that even now, even after learning that I was carrying his child, he still had no honest explanation for what he had done.

I turned away.

“I will make decisions about my pregnancy with the help of my doctor. When there is something important you need to know, I'll decide how to communicate it. But you don't get to use this child as a reason to demand that I return to you.”

“Winnie, please!”

I continued walking.

This time, he did not follow me.

That evening, Nicole sent me a message from an unknown number.

“I heard you're pregnant. Congratulations. But don't assume a baby can make Blake love you.”

I read the words until my anger settled into something cold and clear.

I did not reply. I took a screenshot, saved it, and blocked the number.

Then I opened my notebook and began writing down everything I needed to do: schedule another medical appointment, review my finances, prepare for my new position, and decide what kind of support I would need in the coming months.

I could not control Blake's choices. I could not force Nicole to feel remorse. But I could make plans for my own future.

As I closed the notebook, another message appeared on my phone. This one came from Mrs. Carter.

“Winnie, there is something else I found. It concerns the night Blake decided to propose. I think you should see it, but I don't want to send it without speaking to you first.”

I stared at the message, my heart beating faster.

What else could there possibly be?

I typed a reply.

“Tell me when and where we can meet.”

I had a feeling that the truth about Blake and Nicole was far from complete, and I was finally ready to hear it—even if it shattered the last pieces of the past I had spent ten years protecting.