Wealthy investor Robert, dealing with the aftermath of his wife’s death, stumbles upon a secret divorce agreement and another startling revelation, leading him on a transformative journey toward forgiveness.
Robert sat on his couch, staring blankly at the divorce decree. He was in his up-market beach house, surrounded by memories of Melissa, his wife of 30 years.
Her death had been a blow, but finding this document in her belongings was bewildering. He had no memory of ever divorcing her.
He reflected on the accident he’d had years ago, which caused head trauma and a six-month memory gap for him. Reading the document, he realized that it was during that time he had apparently initiated the divorce. “July twenty years ago,” he muttered, noting the date on the document.
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His life back then was a whirl of socializing with artists and actors, fueled by excessive drinking. Despite the temptations, he remained faithful to Melissa, although his drinking issue strained their marriage.
He eventually picked up the phone and dialed the law firm’s number on the letterhead, only to find they had moved. The receptionist at the other end suggested he Google the new number.
Robert returned to the document and was stunned that Melissa was entitled to half his considerable wealth in the divorce. He had been wealthy even then, with a fortune inherited from his father.
Robert had dabbled as a stockbroker, but for the most part, he paid others to manage and grow his wealth while he lived an easy and high life in New York City.
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Not that he’d been irresponsible; he spent his money well and donated large sums to charitable organizations—he left that side of his dealings to his wife to manage, which she did well.
He returned to Melissa’s box of documents and discovered more surprises. Among them was a birth certificate for a child named Tallulah, born three years before their marriage. The child’s last name matched Melissa’s maiden name.
Robert’s heart raced. He had always sensed Melissa had a secret, but this was beyond anything he had imagined. A child he never knew about.
He pondered the situation, troubled. Melissa had fought cancer bravely, but it had spread rapidly, taking her life. Robert, still grieving, now grappled with this new revelation.
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He decided to discuss it with his twins, Pete and Sandra. They were close to their mother, especially during her illness, and had returned home for her funeral.
As he sat them down, he explained his discovery. The twins were shocked, unable to comprehend their mother’s secret.
“Why didn’t she tell us?” Sandra asked, visibly upset.
“I don’t know. Maybe she thought it’d hurt us,” Robert replied. “I’m also trying to understand why there’s a divorce document. I don’t recall any of it… due to the accident.”
While scrutinizing the divorce paper, Pete suggested, “You should look up the lawyer listed here on LinkedIn.”
Robert agreed, but they decided to focus on the funeral first.
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***
In the quiet aftermath of the funeral, Robert summoned the courage to confront the situation. It didn’t take long for him to trace the lawyer who had officiated the divorce; he was with another firm in New York.
The call brought more surprises; Franklin recognized Robert instantly and expressed concern about his well-being.
“Well, yeah, I’m fine,” Robert said, flummoxed that Franklin seemed to know who he was. “So, you know me?”
“Of course I do. It was a chaotic time, what with your accident. How’s Melissa?”
“Melissa passed away about a week ago.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. How can I help?”
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“Uh, I found some documents that I’m quite concerned about. A divorce decree and a birth certificate for a child.”
There was complete silence on the other end of the line. “I handled the divorce, Robert. It was an open-and-shut case. You don’t remember it?”
“I don’t. Melissa and I were happily married for thirty years.”
“You never left her?”
“I never left her, Franklin. Do you have records of the divorce and Melissa’s will?”
“We have everything on file. How about coming to New York to figure this out? It’s serious.”
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Robert agreed and flew to New York. In Franklin’s office, they discussed Robert’s past and Melissa’s recent will change.
“Do you remember anything about the accident, the fall?”
“No, just what Melissa told me. I fell from the balcony during an argument about my drinking.”
“Did Melissa tell you anything else about that night?”
“You mean later on when I recovered? No, we didn’t speak about it much,” Robert replied. “She moved us to California. She found the best head trauma specialist in the country out there to help with my recovery. I was in good hands.”
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“So, you never saw any media coverage at the time?” Franklin asked.
“Melissa thought it best I stay away from that completely. She wanted a fresh start away from that life. I agreed. I think it was the best thing to do.”
“Robert, this might be hard to hear. Were you aware of the life insurance policy in Melissa’s name?”
“I’d forgotten about that. We bought it soon after we were married,” Robert mused. “She would’ve been the sole beneficiary at the time of the accident. Hang on, are you saying—”
“I’m not saying anything, Rob, please. The media speculated Melissa had something to do with your fall,” Franklin revealed. “But well, you survived, and she never cashed the policy. By the way, she changed her will at the time of your accident.”
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“Does the name of the beneficiary mean anything to you?” Franklin asked, sliding a sheaf of papers across to Robert.
“Tallulah J—,” he said. “Yes. Remember the birth certificate I said I found in Melissa’s personal effects? Same name.”
Robert reached into the leather shoulder bag he’d brought, found the birth certificate, and handed it over to the lawyer.
“The plot thickens,” Franklin said, looking the document over. “Along with the will, there’s a sealed letter from Melissa addressed to you with instructions to be read only in the event of her death. Are you ready for it?”
Robert nodded. “Let me see it,” he said.
Franklin handed over the envelope. “I’m going to visit the bathroom,” he said. “Please take your time.”
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Robert opened the letter and read:
“My Dearest Robert,
I’m sorry for keeping such a big secret. When I fell pregnant with Tallulah, I was scared. I thought you’d leave me, so I kept it a secret until your private investigator found out.
I had Tallulah adopted, and I never told anyone else about her. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong. I’ve missed her every day. And yes, no matter what anyone says about that night, I had nothing to do with the fall. It was an accident.
I’m so sorry for everything. I hope you can at least try to understand.
Love,
Mel”
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“In her will, Franklin, she left her entire estate to Tallulah?” Robert asked as the lawyer returned.
Franklin nodded. “She tied all the assets up in a trust account that pays out to her daughter in the event of Melissa’s death.”
“That money is mine,” Robert declared. “Can we challenge the will in court? Can the divorce be rescinded?”
Franklin explained the challenges but agreed. “I think we can make a case.”
“How much money are we talking about here?” Robert inquired.
“You mean, how much will it cost to contest the will and annul the divorce?” Franklin clarified.
“No, how much money was my wife worth when she died?” Robert asked.
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“Nearly half a billion dollars,” Franklin revealed.
“And it all goes to her daughter Tallulah now?”
“That’s right,” Franklin confirmed. “Unless we sue the estate for what she did to you, hiding all this.”
“In that folder you have there, are there any contact details for Tallulah?” Robert asked.
“There’s a last known address. Looks like a business address.”
“Write down that address for me, please, Frank,” Robert said.
Franklin provided an address in Los Angeles. Determined, Robert visited the given location, a rundown studio, and encountered a gruff man.
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“I’m looking for a woman,” Robert began.
The man scoffed. “Join the club. Aren’t we all?”
“She’s around 33. This is the address given as her workplace,” Robert said, ignoring the man’s joke.
“Let’s see, that could be any one of, I dunno, a hundred women in the last year alone. I can’t help you, brah. Best you shove off. Are you a lawyer or somethin’?”
“No, this is a personal matter. I’m looking for my wife’s daughter.”
“Another one looking for a long-lost daughter,” the man mocked.
“What do you do here?” Robert asked. “Is this an adult film studio?”
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“Got that right, genius. Now are you going to piss off, or do I have to throw you out?”
“There’s no need for that. I’m here to give this woman some news about her mother; she died,” Robert said. “Her name is Tallulah.”
Robert offered him a $1000 reward if he told her about Tallulah. The man agreed after seeing the money.
“Her stage name is Tulip Jones, or sometimes, she goes by TJ. Try Melrose Productions a couple of blocks over,” the man disclosed. “And don’t tell her I told you where to find her. She’s not exactly in our good books around here. Ran out on us a year ago.”
Robert gave him the money and left.
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Despite a somewhat warm reception at Melrose Productions, Robert was directed to contact her through a provided cell phone number. He wasn’t sure if she’d answer his calls, so he left her a message. Finally, they spoke over text and agreed to meet.
As they sat across from each other, Robert divulged the truth about Melissa, the inheritance, and his desire to guide Tallulah through managing the substantial sum.
“Why should I trust you to handle my money?”
“I’ve made it my business to manage money; believe me, it’s not as easy as you think,” Robert assured her.
Their conversation shifted to personal matters. Tallulah revealed her disdain for the adult film industry and her desire to escape it. She’d been forced into it by her foster mother.
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“Trust me, from this day on, you don’t have to do it ever again. I can promise you that,” Robert assured her, handing her his business card.
She looked up at him with a hint of surprise and hope after she’d skimmed the details on the card. “You’re a producer?” she asked.
“Executive producer,” Robert said. “I can show you how to get into it if you like. You’ll be in a good place with your inheritance money as long as you don’t gamble it all on one film. It’s a tough business.”
“I could go for that,” Tallulah said thoughtfully. “The proper film business, I mean. Not gambling.”
“How about meeting my kids, too? Twins: a boy and a girl. Twenty-two. Good kids. One’s at film school, and one’s studying business. Good combination.”
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Tallulah agreed, and a few days later, she finally met Sandra and Pete at Robert’s Santa Monica office. As small talk flowed, Robert proposed a trip to New York to handle Tallulah’s inheritance.
With plans unfolding, Tallulah hesitantly shared her desire to use part of the inheritance to establish an organization to help women leave the adult film industry. And they all decided to name it after Melissa.
“I’d be happy to draw up a business plan,” Pete offered.
Under Robert’s guidance, the organization named Melissa’s Hope thrived. Tallulah became an advocate for trafficked women and children. The siblings bonded, creating a close-knit family.
Robert remained grateful for everything he had been given in life. He took every opportunity to give to others and help them as best he could. And above all, he remained grateful for the lesson in love his late wife had given him.
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I Attended My Husband’s Office Party for the First Time, but I Never Expected to See His Other ‘Wife’ There
When Jennifer stumbled upon an email inviting her husband to a glamorous New Year’s party with a plus-one allowed, her curiosity was piqued. But what she uncovered at the event shattered her trust, setting the stage for an unexpected twist of fate.
The laptop pinged, interrupting the movie we were watching. Oliver had just gone to the bathroom, leaving his laptop open on the coffee table.
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I glanced at the screen, the glowing subject line catching my eye.
“Dear Mr. Oliver,
We are happy to announce the New Year party is coming up! Dress code: White Party. You may bring your plus-one (your wife). Address…”
A shocked woman looking at her laptop | Source: Pexels
I blinked, rereading the email. His company never allowed plus-ones. Never. I couldn’t count the number of times I had heard him complain about it. Yet, there it was in black and white—plus-one (your wife).
When Oliver came back, I tried to play it cool, though my curiosity was bubbling. “Your office is throwing a New Year’s party?” I asked casually.
An excited woman looking at her laptop | Source: Pexels
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, picking up his laptop and closing it before I could say more. “Nothing big. Just the usual end-of-year stuff.”
“Can I come?” I asked, tilting my head and smiling.
He froze for half a second before brushing it off. “No, they don’t allow guests. It’s more of a work event.”
I frowned. “But the email said—”
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“They don’t, Jen. Trust me.” His tone was clipped, and he didn’t meet my eyes. “Anyway, I’ll just be working that night. No big deal.”
That was the first time I felt something strange. Oliver always worked late or traveled for business, so I had gotten used to him being away. I trusted him, because that’s what you do in a marriage. But this time, his response felt… off.
A suspicious woman | Source: Pexels
New Year’s Eve arrived, and I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my white dress. Curiosity had gnawed at me for days. Why didn’t he want me at the party? Was he embarrassed? Hiding something?
“Happy New Year, Jen!” he called as he grabbed his coat, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Happy New Year,” I replied, watching him leave.
A man putting on his coat | Source: Midjourney
As soon as the door clicked shut, I grabbed my purse and headed out.
The hotel where the party was held glowed like a jewel in the night. The lobby was decorated with silver streamers, twinkling lights, and elegant floral arrangements. Guests in sparkling white outfits mingled, laughter and conversation filling the air. I felt both nervous and determined as I approached the reception desk.
A woman in a hotel | Source: Midjourney
“Name, please?” the manager asked with a polite smile, glancing up from his clipboard.
“Jennifer. I’m Oliver’s wife,” I said confidently.
His smile faltered for a moment, and he looked down at his list, then back up at me. Then, he laughed. “Nice try!”
“I’m Jennifer,” I repeated. “Oliver’s wife.”
A woman at a reception desk | Source: Midjourney
The manager’s expression turned awkward. “Oh… uh…” He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I think there’s been some confusion. Oliver already checked in… with his plus-one. His real wife.”
My chest tightened. “What?”
“Yes, he arrived about 30 minutes ago. They always arrive together, I’ve seen them many times.” He winced slightly, as if bracing for my reaction.
“I’m his wife,” I said sharply, the words feeling heavy on my tongue.
A hotel manager | Source: Pexels
He opened his mouth to reply but closed it again, his face apologetic. “Let me double-check the guest list.”
Before he could move, I caught a glimpse of Oliver in the far corner of the room. He was easy to spot in his crisp white suit. My breath caught when I saw him with her—a woman with long dark hair, her arm resting on his shoulder. They were laughing, leaning in close, their body language unmistakably intimate.
A couple at a party | Source: Pexels
The world seemed to spin. The glitzy decorations blurred as my mind raced.
“Ma’am?” the manager asked gently, breaking into my thoughts.
I turned back to him, my voice suddenly calm. “No need to check. I see him.”
He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something, but I was already walking away from the desk, away from the party, and away from Oliver.
A woman leaving a hotel | Source: Midjourney
Outside, the cold air stung my face, but it didn’t dull the fire burning inside me. I wrapped my coat tighter around me, my heels clicking on the sidewalk as I made my way to my car.
I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do, but I knew one thing: Oliver was going to regret this.
A sad woman walking on the street | Source: Midjourney
The next day, the phone rang just as I was pouring my morning coffee. I almost didn’t answer, still angry about last night, but something made me pick up.
“Is this Mr. Oliver’s wife?” a calm, professional voice asked.
“Yes,” I replied, my stomach twisting.
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“This is Mercy Hospital. Your husband was in a car accident early this morning. He’s stable, but we need you to come in right away.”
My breath caught. “A car accident? Is he… is he okay?”
“He has a concussion and a broken arm. There are complications we’ll explain when you arrive.”
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I didn’t say another word. I grabbed my coat and rushed out the door, my anger from the night before swirling with worry.
At the hospital, the antiseptic smell hit me as I walked into the waiting area. Nurses bustled by, their faces neutral, while I stood there, my heart racing.
“Jennifer?” a doctor called, walking toward me. He was middle-aged, with a kind but serious expression.
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“Yes. Is Oliver okay?”
“He’s stable for now, but there’s an issue we need to address,” he explained, motioning for me to sit. “His arm is fractured in several places. There’s a risk of long-term damage unless we operate soon. Unfortunately, there’s a problem with his insurance. His policy lapsed last month. As his wife, you can authorize the procedure and arrange payment.”
A woman talking to a doctor | Source: Midjourney
I blinked, trying to process his words. “His insurance… lapsed? Why didn’t he renew it?”
The doctor shook his head. “I can’t speak to that, but we do need to act quickly. Will you authorize the surgery?”
When I stepped into Oliver’s room, the sight of him startled me. His face was pale, a bandage wrapped around his head. His arm was in a sling, and he looked more fragile than I’d ever seen him.
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“Jen,” he croaked when he saw me, his voice weak.
“Oliver,” I said stiffly, standing by the door.
His eyes searched mine, pleading. “I know you’re upset, but please… just listen. It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, it’s exactly what I think,” I said, my voice icy. “You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me. And last night, I saw you with her. You brought her to that party, didn’t you?”
An angry woman in a hospital | Source: Midjourney
His face went pale. “I can explain—”
“I don’t want your explanations,” I snapped, cutting him off. “The doctor says you need surgery, but your insurance lapsed. That sounds like a problem for your real wife to handle.”
“Jen, don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I made a mistake. Please, just sign the papers.”
A sad man in a hospital bed | Source: Freepik
I stared at him for a long moment, my heart pounding. Part of me wanted to scream, to cry, to give in and help him. But then I thought of all the times I had trusted him, only to find out it was all a lie.
“No, Oliver,” I said, my voice firm. “You’ve made your choices. Now you can live with them.”
I turned and walked out of the room without looking back.
A woman leaving a hospital room | Source: Midjourney
In the hallway, my steps felt lighter, as if a weight had lifted off my chest. For the first time in years, I realized I wasn’t responsible for cleaning up his messes.
It was over. Whatever happened next was up to him.
A few days later, I received a call from the hospital. It wasn’t the doctor. It was Oliver.
“Jen, please,” he begged. His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable. “She didn’t come. I’m alone here. I need you.”
A man talking on his phone in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
I said nothing, gripping the phone tightly as his words sank in. The “real wife” wasn’t so real after all. She hadn’t shown up, not for the surgery, not for anything. She’d disappeared the moment she realized he wasn’t the man he pretended to be.
“Jen?” he whispered.
“You made your choice, Oliver,” I said, my tone steady. “Now you can deal with the consequences.”
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I hung up and blocked his number.
In the weeks that followed, I heard through mutual friends that Oliver’s career was falling apart. Word of his affair spread at work. The woman he’d paraded at the party was no longer seen with him, and his charm didn’t seem to fool anyone anymore.
But I didn’t feel sorry for him. I felt free.
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For the first time in years, I wasn’t carrying the weight of his lies. Instead of worrying about his needs, I focused on myself.
I signed up for a pottery class—a silly dream I’d put off for years. I spent weekends hiking trails I’d always wanted to explore. I started painting again, filling my apartment with canvases splashed with color.
For years, I, Jennifer, had been the dutiful wife. But now, Jen was stepping into her own life.
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