No Second Chances for My Secret-Baby Husband

Three years into our marriage, Julian Sterling finally held my hand for the first time.

Not in our bedroom, but on the granite steps outside City Hall.

He clutched my wrist so tightly his fingers shook, his voice cracking. "Chloe, please. Just give me one more chance."

Right behind him, inside a black luxury SUV, a four-year-old girl pressed her face against the tinted glass, crying out, "Daddy!"

I stared at that little face—a carbon copy of his own—and a cold laugh escaped my lips.

Three whole years.