I smiled awkwardly and pushed it back toward her.
“I don’t need any of that. Being with you is enough.”
The way she looked at me then made something tighten in my chest. There was sadness in her eyes… deep, overwhelming sadness.
“Before we go any further… I need to tell you something,” she said.
A chill ran through me as she slowly removed the shawl from her shoulders.
And then I saw it.
On her left shoulder… a dark, uneven birthmark.
Exactly like the one my mother had.
My hand trembled as I pointed.
“That mark… why do you have the same one?”
She closed her eyes briefly, then stepped back.
“Because I can’t keep hiding this,” she whispered.
The room no longer felt like a place of celebration.
It felt like a trap.
“Twenty years ago… I had a son,” she said.
Confusion hit first.
Then anger.
Then something colder… fear.
“What does that have to do with me?” I asked, my voice tight.
“Everything,” she said, meeting my eyes.
She told me about her past—about being married to a powerful agricultural businessman named Victor Langston. A man respected in public, but ruthless in private. A man who controlled everything—land, money, people.
She described her life as a cage disguised as luxury.