Her fork froze midway to her mouth.
“Wait.
So he didn’t tell you?” she gasped.
My chest tightened.
“Tell me what? Ash? Derek?”
Ashley’s eyes darted to Derek, who was suddenly very interested in his glass of lemonade.
“Oh, my god.
Becca…” she whispered. “You really don’t know…”
“Know what?” My voice wavered as the splinter in my mind turned into a dagger.
Ashley’s face paled.
“Daisy isn’t our cousin, Becca,” she blurted out. “She’s Derek’s ex-girlfriend.
And Patrick? He’s their son.”
The room tilted.
I had to grip hard onto the edge of the table to steady myself, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“What are you talking about?” I croaked, though deep down, I already knew the answer.
Ashley looked stricken.
“I thought you knew, Becca! Derek told the whole family he’d explained everything to you.
Our mother told him that he had to tell you the truth before you got married. Daisy was raising Patrick with her then-boyfriend, but Derek was sending child support to them!”
She sighed deeply, remorse filling her lungs. I knew she hated being the one to tell me.
Then, her gaze snapped to him.
“You said you told her!”
Derek didn’t meet my eyes.
My stomach churned as every odd moment from the past month clicked into place.
Daisy’s reserved demeanor around me, her easy laughter with Derek, Patrick’s defiant declaration. I felt like the biggest fool on earth.
I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor.
“You have to get back to work. I have to clean up here and log onto a meeting.
I will be at your office in two hours. And you’re going to explain everything.”
Derek’s face clouded and then cleared. He nodded.
“Fine.
I’ll push my meetings, Becs,” he said, leaving.
“I’m so sorry, Rebecca,” Ashley said, picking up the empty plates. “I truly thought that Derek was a man of his word.”
“It’s not your fault, babe,” I said. “This is on him.
But I need you to know that whatever happens next has nothing to do with you. Okay?”
She nodded meekly and began to wash the dishes.
At Derek’s office, I waited in a small conference room, my heart still hammering. When Derek walked in, he looked like he’d aged ten years in the span of an hour.
He sat across from me, his shoulders slumped.
“Start talking,” I demanded.
He exhaled shakily, avoiding my gaze.
“Yes, Daisy is my ex-girlfriend,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
“And Patrick is my son.”
The words hit like a wrecking ball.
“You lied to me,” I said. “You looked me in the eyes and lied. You allowed me to set up the guest room, to turn my home office into a makeshift kid’s room?
You watched all of that, and you didn’t think about telling me the truth?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you, Becca,” he stammered. “It was years before we met. Daisy and I broke up before Patrick was born.
I’ve always supported him financially, but I kept my distance. When Daisy reached out, she said that she needed help. And I felt obligated.
That’s my son, after all.”
“Obligated?” I spat. “You lied to me about who they are! You let me believe they were your cousin and nephew!
Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?”
“I know,” he said, tears pooling in his eyes. “But I was scared. I thought it would push you away.
I thought it would be easier this way. I’m sorry. I’ll tell Daisy and Patrick to leave tonight if that’s what you want.”
His desperation might’ve softened me on any other day, but right then, it only made me angrier.
“They should’ve left the moment this charade started.
You’ve disrespected me in every way possible.”
He didn’t try to argue.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’ll fix this.”
The next few days were excruciating.
Daisy avoided me entirely, and Patrick kept to his room, his usual chaos replaced by an eerie silence.
Derek threw himself into damage control, arranging for Daisy and Patrick to move into a rental while simultaneously begging for my forgiveness.
I confronted Daisy once, though.
“Why would you go along with this lie?” I demanded, watching her make her way through my kitchen while she made a sandwich.
She flushed with shame, almost dropping the jar of mayonnaise.
“I didn’t want to lie,” she said softly. “But Derek thought it would be easier.
I’m sorry. I never wanted to cause problems.”
Her apology didn’t heal the wound, but it clarified one thing for me:
This disaster was Derek’s making.
Once Daisy and Patrick moved out, the house felt unbearably quiet.
Derek tried everything to make amends. He left me notes apologizing for his lies, attended therapy on his own, and took on every household chore without being asked.
His remorse was evident, but my trust in him had been shattered.
It took weeks of reflection, long conversations with my best friend, Sharon, and more than a few sleepless nights before I made my decision.
“Just know what you’re getting into, Becca,” Sharon said, stirring her matcha latte.
“I’ll support you, of course, but please, think about it from all sides.”
One evening, I called Derek into the living room. He sat across from me, his face tense with anticipation.
“I’m not ready to forgive you, D,” I began, my voice steady. “But I’m willing to try.”
Relief washed over his face, but I held up a hand.
“This is your last chance, Derek,” I said firmly.
“No more lies. No more half-truths. If you want this marriage to survive, you have to earn back my trust.”
“I will,” he said, his voice thick and heavy.
“I promise.”
Rebuilding our marriage won’t be easy, and part of me wonders if it’s even possible.
But for now, I’m taking it one day at a time. I’ve learned one thing through all of this. Trust isn’t something you can take for granted.
It’s fragile.
As for Derek?
He’s on thin ice. And if he thinks I’ll ignore the warning signs ever again, he’s dead wrong.
So now, I have to figure out how to be a stepmother.
Source: amomama
