One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 143: Chapter 143

The sun spilled over the sand in golden sheets, warming everything it touched. It was one of those perfect coastal mornings—breezy but bright, waves crashing at just the right rhythm, and laughter echoing across the beach like a song.
Arielle sat beneath the shade of a wide straw umbrella, her journal open in her lap. She’d only managed to scribble two lines before her attention was stolen by the sight of her children.
All three of them—sunhats askew, cheeks pink from sun and excitement—were huddled near the edge of the water, constructing what appeared to be an elaborate fortress made of damp sand, coral bits, and seashells.
Damien was nearby, ankle-deep in the surf, showing their youngest how to skim pebbles across the surface. Every now and then he’d glance over his shoulder at the sandcastle and smile—just before his daughter yelled for another seashell turret or demanded a crab moat.
It was perfect.
But perfection, Arielle knew, was delicate.
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and called out, “Do you three need reinforcements, or is the kingdom secure?”
“Mama!” her eldest shouted. “We’re almost done! Just need a flag!”
“I have a stick!” their middle child declared triumphantly.
“I have string!” the youngest chirped, dragging a seaweed strand behind him.
She laughed, standing to stretch, when she heard it—soft, innocuous. A whisper between siblings not meant to reach adult ears.
“Is the castle for Daddy’s other friend?” her daughter asked.
“What other friend?” her eldest asked, confused.
“You know… the one who visited when Mama was sleeping a lot. She brought Daddy cookies.”
Arielle froze.
The breeze that had felt so warm suddenly shifted, brushing cold against her skin. She stepped forward, heart picking up pace, forcing calm into her voice.
“What friend, sweetheart?” she asked casually, kneeling beside them.
Her daughter looked up, face smudged with sand, eyes wide and innocent.
“I don’t know her name. But she had really red lipstick. And she smelled like flowers. She said she was an old friend from before.”
Before.
Arielle’s throat tightened. She smiled carefully.
“Did Daddy say she was his friend?”
The little girl nodded. “He said she helped once, when you were really sick. But he made us promise not to tell you. He said you’d be too tired.”
Arielle forced a breath through her nose, smiling even as her chest ached.
“Did she come more than once?”
Her son answered this time. “Just twice, I think. She gave me a chocolate bar and said I looked like Daddy.”
That tremble beneath the surface—the one she’d been ignoring since the letter—now cracked wide open.
She kissed each of their heads, pretending to admire the sandcastle. Then stood.
And turned toward Damien.
He was still smiling, oblivious, as he helped their youngest line up shells in the wet sand.
She walked toward him slowly, like crossing a minefield.
When he looked up and saw her face, his smile faltered.
“What is it?”
“Can we talk?”
He stood, brushing sand from his hands. “Of course.”
They walked toward the edge of the beach, just far enough for the wind and waves to cover their voices. Arielle didn’t look at him at first.
“The kids said someone visited you. A woman. Red lipstick. Smelled like flowers.”
Damien’s face went still.
She finally looked at him.
“Who is she, Damien?”
He swallowed. “It was nothing. She came by—twice. Said she knew me from college. Said she was sorry about what we were going through.”
Arielle crossed her arms.
“She told our kids not to tell me.”
Damien flinched. “I told her not to. You were in and out of sleep. I didn’t want to upset you.”
Arielle’s voice shook now. “So you chose to let her in. Chose to keep it quiet.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it?”
He looked down at the sand. “She showed up with food and… memories. I didn’t invite her. But I didn’t push her away either. I was drowning, Ari. And she was a distraction. A familiar one.”
Arielle’s chest burned.
“Did anything happen?”
Damien met her eyes, pain etched deep in his.
“No. Nothing. Not physically. But I should’ve told you. I was ashamed. And when the letter came…”
She blinked. “So it’s her.”
He didn’t deny it.
Arielle stepped back.
The ocean crashed behind them. Children’s laughter floated faintly on the wind.
And between them—truth.
Sharp. Heavy. Unavoidable.
She didn’t speak again.
Just turned.
And walked back toward the sandcastle.
Where innocence still played.
Where secrets had left their first footprint.