After tying the knot, Freya was excited to start her new life with George, moving into his family’s grand estate. However, her dreams were quickly shattered when Valerie, the maid, revealed George’s hidden life.

Just after our wedding, I moved into George’s family mansion, which felt like something out of a fairy tale with its high ceilings, arches, and beautiful gardens. Before our honeymoon to the South of France, George wanted me to settle into our new home.

However, things were not as perfect as they seemed. From the moment she saw me, Valerie, the maid, gave me a look that said, “You don’t belong here.” Despite my best efforts, I wasn’t going to be pushed out, and Valerie would have to accept that.

A few days in, I decided to prepare breakfast for my new family, including George’s younger siblings who still lived at home. Valerie was in the kitchen with me, watching my every move as she cleaned the countertops, making me nervous. I realized I couldn’t find my phone and asked her if she’d seen it.

Valerie casually glanced at me and shook her head. “If I were you, I’d hurry up with breakfast. The family expects it on the table before they come downstairs,” she said coldly.

Taking her advice, I finished making breakfast. Eventually, I found my phone on the seat Valerie had just vacated. But the message on the screen turned my world upside down:

“Check your husband’s drawer. The top left one. Then RUN!”

My heart pounded as I rushed to our bedroom, the warning echoing in my mind. Valerie had tidied up, making the bed and folding our clothes from the night before. Despite the dread I felt, I opened the drawer, not knowing what to expect.

Inside, I found a bundle of letters tied with an old ribbon and an antique key. The letters were addressed to someone named Elena, written by George. Sitting on our bed, I read each one, discovering that George had promised a future to another woman.

Each word broke my heart a little more. The final letter was a farewell, dated just three days before George proposed to me.

Confused and hurt, I sought out Ivy, George’s younger sister, to ask about the key. “Oh, I think it’s for the attic,” she said. “That was George’s favorite room. It’s always seemed so gloomy to me. I haven’t been up there in years.”

I climbed to the attic, finding it just as dark and eerie as Ivy described. When I turned on the light, my blood ran cold. The walls were covered with pictures of George and a woman, presumably Elena. Their love was evident in every photo, mocking my feelings for George and our marriage.

I sank into the only armchair, taking in the scene. My eyes landed on an ultrasound image pinned beneath a photo of George and Elena dancing. They had been expecting a child.

Shocked and heartbroken, I struggled to understand how George had kept this secret from me. Learning about Elena was one thing, but hiding a baby was incomprehensible.

As I pieced together George’s betrayal, a soft voice called from the doorway, “Freya?”

It was Valerie. “You weren’t supposed to find out this way,” she said, her voice filled with sympathy.

“You knew about this?” I asked, unsure of how to feel.

Valerie nodded slowly. “Elena is my cousin. She wanted you to know the truth. I put the letters in George’s drawer while cleaning this morning.”

“And the baby?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Leaning against the wall, Valerie explained that George had fallen in love with Elena, who had helped with the family’s annual Christmas preparations. They quickly grew close, but when Elena found out she was pregnant, George rejected her and the child, who had Down syndrome. George had promised to stand by her but changed his mind.

I confronted George’s parents with the letters and photos from the attic. Valerie told them about Elena and her child. George entered the room just as we finished, his face showing he had overheard everything.

His father asked, “Is this true?”

George’s silence was damning. The family’s reaction was swift. George was cut off, and his inheritance was redirected to support Elena and her baby.

As for me, I was granted a divorce. George didn’t contest it, devastated by the loss of his wealth. My in-laws provided for me, allowing me to start anew. I sold some of the assets to fund a foundation for children with disabilities, run by Valerie with my help and George’s mother’s support. It became a true measure of success, turning a betrayal into a beacon of hope for others.

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