PART 3: I Thought My Husband’s Secret Was Another Woman—Until a Stranger Showed Me What He Had Hidden From Our Family for Years
Finding Peter Carter took less than ten minutes.
Calling him took nearly an hour.
His number sat on my phone screen while I walked from the kitchen to the living room and back again.
Claire had gone home after midnight, but not before making me promise I would call her if I needed anything.
The house felt different after she left.
Not emptier.
More honest.
Every room contained evidence of the life Mark and I had built together—the framed anniversary photographs, the worn armchair he’d insisted was still comfortable, the ceramic bowl we’d bought on our first trip to Maine.
None of those memories had become false simply because Mark had lied.
That was the most confusing part.
