My Childfree Wife's Hidden Heirs - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Let me get this straight," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I should be grateful my wife cheated on me because at least she gave me children who'll take care of me in my old age? That's your brilliant logic?"
Sandra's face flushed crimson. "Regan!" she snapped defensively, "Why are you being so cruel? Cheating? Is that what you're calling it? What happened with Morgan... it was just once, and only because—" Her words trailed off as shame seemed to overwhelm her. She suddenly shooed everyone out of the room.
When we were alone, she tried again, her voice pleading. "Regan, I know you're hurt, but try to see this from my side. I'm forty-two now - I didn't want to live with regrets. If you truly love me, you'll accept the children. Morgan's raised them well. You won't even need to lift a finger. Isn't that perfect?"
I stared at her, my throat tight. "And if I don't?"
"Really, Regan? You're going to be difficult about this?" She sighed dramatically. "Fine. But I won't stop seeing Morgan and the kids. You'll have time to think it over."
She turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Oh, and Dad's seventieth is next week. Morgan's bringing the children. You'll adore them once you meet them." The door clicked shut behind her.
Alone, I unlocked my phone and opened the detective's files. Hundreds of photos and videos unfolded before me - Sandra's pregnancy, the twins' birth, their entire lives documented in painful detail. And there it was - the share transfer agreement.
For twenty years of marriage, she'd spent most of each year overseas for "business studies." The truth? She'd been playing happy families with Morgan and their children the whole time.
The irony wasn't lost on me - I'd never suspected a thing.
Each photo was a knife to the heart. There was Sandra, radiant with joy, the picture of maternal bliss in their perfect little family.
I'd sacrificed everything - my career, my ambitions - to marry into the Wilson family. Stood by her through every storm. Only to discover I'd been nothing more than an extra in her life story.
Hands shaking, I made the call. "I'll take that position in Noroeste. And find me the best divorce lawyer in the country."
At my father-in-law's birthday party, Morgan made his grand entrance in a bespoke suit, his handsome face all charm and sophistication. Whatever joke he told had my in-laws in stitches.
The twins, dressed in matching red suits, were the picture of adorable energy. My mother-in-law doted on them, personally feeding them gourmet pastries from a five-star hotel, her face glowing with grandmotherly pride.