Chapter 3 - THE CRACK IN THE FAÇADELogan’s face drained of color so fast it looked as though someone had pulled a plug in his veins. The ambient noise of the ballroom seemed to recede into a distant hum as he stared up at the woman standing behind his chair.
“H-Hannah?” he choked out, his voice a strangled whisper masked by the surrounding laughter and chatter of relatives clinking their glasses.
“Keep your voice down, Logan,” Hannah said smoothly, her posture remaining upright, her hands steady on her service tray. “Wouldn't want to ruin your mother’s birthday party with an uninvited guest, would you? After all, she went to such great lengths to ensure the guest list was strictly curated.”
Logan gripped the edges of his seat, his knuckles turning white. He stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back a few inches against the marble floor, drawing a few curious glances from neighboring tables.
“Excuse me for a moment, Mother, Elena,” Logan muttered, his voice tight and breathless. He grabbed his napkin, wiped his sweaty palms, and looked at Hannah. “We need to talk. Right now. Outside.”
“I’m on the clock, sir,” Hannah replied with exaggerated polite servitude, pitching her voice slightly so that Elena looked over with a puzzled expression. “The guests need their water refilled.”
“Hannah, stop playing games,” Logan hissed, stepping away from the table and gesturing frantically toward the quiet service hallway. “Move. Now.”
Without a word, Hannah turned on her heel and glided toward the dimly lit corridor where she had overheard the conversation earlier. Logan hurried behind her, his expensive leather shoes clicking frantically against the floor, his professional composure completely shredded.
As soon as they rounded the corner out of sight of the ballroom, Logan slammed his hand against the wall.
“What are you doing here? How did you—?”
“How did I find out that my husband of ten years has a ten-year-old son tucked away like a dirty little secret?” Hannah interrupted, finally removing her thick glasses and letting them hang from her fingers by the arm. She met his panicked gaze head-on. “It’s amazing what you discover when you stop trusting the man who tells you that you’re crazy for asking questions.”
Logan ran a hand through his hair, his chest heaving. “It’s not what you think, Hannah. It’s... it’s complicated.”
“Is it?” Hannah asked softly, tilting her head. “Let’s uncomplicate it, Logan. Ten years ago, when I was struggling through our first years of marriage, you were apparently busy elsewhere. Who is Elena? And how long has your mother known about her and Liam?”
“Mom didn't know from the beginning!” Logan stammered defensively, stepping closer. “Look... Elena and I were involved before we got serious. When things ended between us, she moved away to Chicago. I thought it was over. But six months before our wedding... she came back. She told me she was pregnant. By then, our wedding was already planned, my family was invested, and...” He faltered under her gaze.
“And you were a coward,” Hannah finished for him, her voice chillingly devoid of inflection. “You decided that you wanted the respectable corporate marriage with me, while keeping your illegitimate family funded with our joint bank accounts.”
“I was supporting my son!” Logan snapped, a flash of defensive anger breaking through his panic. “What was I supposed to do? Abandon him? Turn my back on my own flesh and blood just because you couldn't—” He stopped abruptly, biting his lower lip as the cruel implication hung heavily in the air.
Hannah didn't flinch. She didn't cry. She simply smiled—a cold, humorless smile that terrified Logan more than any screaming match ever could.
“Because I couldn't have children after the hospital nearly killed me saving my life,” Hannah completed his sentence. “Say it, Logan. Say the thing your mother has been thinking for nine years.”
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Before Logan could stammer an apology, a soft rustle of silk echoed from the corner of the hallway. Both of them turned.
Standing at the edge of the corridor, holding a small clutch purse, was Elena. Her face was pale, her eyes darting between Logan and the disguised woman standing before her. She had heard every single word.
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