Walter returns home from work to find his baby son crying. His wife has tried everything to quiet their son, but nothing works. Walter decides to check the crib and is shocked by what he finds there.
An ear-splitting wail echoed through the house as Walter entered from the garage. His wife, Abby, sat in the kitchen, and by the distressed look on her face, he knew Logan’s cries were bothering her again.
“Oh, honey,” he says and hugs her from behind. “How long has he been crying like that?”
“I’ve tried everything, Walter!” Abby broke down into sobs. “He’s been fed, changed, bathed, and burped! I even took his temperature! I don’t know what to do now. He keeps crying!”
After becoming parents a month ago, everything in the couple’s lives changed. And if there was something that really distressed Walter, it was Logan’s cries.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Come, we’ll figure this out together,” Walter said and took Abby to Logan’s room.
He cheerfully approached Logan’s crib. But all he saw in the crib was a dictaphone and a note. Walter pressed the stop button on the dictaphone, and Logan’s cries stopped.
“What did you do?” Abby called from behind. Walter wasn’t listening. He held the note and zoned out. It wasn’t until Abby snatched the note from his hand and opened it that he realized what had occurred.
“I warned you that you’d regret being rude to me.
If you want to see your baby again, leave $200,000 in the luggage storage lockers near the pier.
If you go to the police, you’ll never see him again.”
“Oh my God!” Abby gasped. “What does it mean? Was I rude to someone? Were you? Who would kidnap Logan?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter recalled the janitor he’d mistreated at the maternity hospital. He was bringing a cute bear-shaped pot for Abby while she was admitted to the hospital, but the pot broke when he tripped over the janitor’s broom.
Furious, Walter called the man awful names, and the janitor said, “You’ll regret it!”
“We’ll have to go to the police, honey,” Walter said, snapping out of his thoughts. “It must be him!”
“What? The note says we’ll never see Logan again if we go to the police, Walter. We should just pay the ransom!”
“We don’t know if he’ll return Logan if we do that. Think about it, honey. This guy is a janitor… there’s no way he’d know if we went to the police, and since we know where he works, they might be able to go straight to the maternity hospital, arrest him, and bring Logan home to us.”
Abby agreed.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter parked their car outside the station. He and Abby were about to exit the vehicle when Walter’s phone buzzed with a message.
“This is your first and last warning. If you enter that police station, your kid’s going into the bay. Get the money to the location mentioned below.”
Abby gasped as she read the message, and Walter looked around, trying to spot the kidnapper. But there were too many people. The only way to rescue Logan now was to pay the ransom.
Walter decided to drive to the bank right away, but Abby’s condition deteriorated. She threw up once and was about to throw up for a second time. It was better to drive her home, Walter decided.
“Don’t hate me for it, honey, but that’s the best for you,” he said. And Abby didn’t protest.
“Fine…But Walter…does that kidnapper even know about caring for a newborn?” she asked and broke down into tears.
Walter said nothing and drove her home. But his imagination wasn’t immune to dark thoughts. He kept imagining Logan in a dark room, crying for help that never came.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Somehow pulling himself together, Walter drove to the bank. Then he visited the storage locker mentioned by the kidnapper and placed the money inside it.
There were too many people around for him to spot the janitor, but Walter knew he would be somewhere nearby, watching him. So Walter returned to his car, drove a short distance, and parked around the lockers again. It wasn’t long before he spotted the janitor from the maternity hospital.
The janitor opened the locker. Walter sat up straighter, but then a tourist group walked past, hiding the janitor from view.
“Move it!” Walter snapped.
Painful minutes stretched out as the tourists headed toward one of the statues. After the last few people in the group eventually passed the lockers, Walter swore. The janitor had disappeared.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter barely dared to breathe as he scanned the crowd. The man had been wearing the sort of flashy shirt sold in the more eclectic, hippie-themed stores, so he shouldn’t have been hard to spot.
There! A wave of relief washed over him as Walter spotted the janitor crossing the road. He was carrying the bag of money Walter had placed in the locker. Walter leaped from his car and followed him.
The man led him around a parking lot, past a variety of restaurants and several museums before he turned into a bus station. They were heading toward another row of lockers.
The janitor placed the bag inside a locker. When he turned around, Walter was ready. He shoved the janitor up against the lockers and held him there with his forearm.
“Where is my son?” Walter demanded. “I’ve done everything you asked, you jerk; now return Logan to me!”
“Look, I was offered $100 to collect the package and then drop it off here,” the man said. “I don’t know about your son!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Don’t you dare lie!”
“I’m not! Some guy paid me to deliver the package! I ran into him in the parking lot after work one day, but he was standing with the light behind him, so I didn’t see his face. I have two kids of my own. I’d never hurt someone else’s child.”
Something about the janitor’s eyes told Walter the older man wasn’t lying. He let the man go, then opened the locker. But it was empty. Somebody had cut a hole in the back.
Walter jogged around to the back of the lockers. The hole was covered from the back with a thin steel plate, loosely secured by two screws. Nobody around was carrying a bag like the one he’d placed the money into.
Walter didn’t know how to break the news to Abby. Logan was their miracle baby. They’d been struggling for years before they conceived him. And now, he had lost his only chance to get Logan back.
Walter entered his home. He checked all the rooms downstairs but didn’t find Abby anywhere. He went upstairs to check their bedroom and noticed Abby’s things were gone.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
At first, Walter suspected she was kidnapped. He called her. Countless times. But she never answered. Then it dawned on him that the kidnapper wouldn’t have taken all of Abby’s things. Even her hand lotion was missing.
Walter was crushed, to say the least. How could Abby do this to them? No wonder she’d been so eager to return home after feeling sick. She had also insisted they pay the ransom. Abby was Logan’s kidnapper. Did she have an accomplice?
The only thing that consoled Walter’s heart was that the ransom money was fake. He would find a way to get his son back.
Walter drove to the maternity hospital where Logan was born, and near the vending machine, he found the man he was looking for—a doctor.
“Hi,” Walter approached him. “I hope you can help me. I need someone to call my wife—”
“I’m not a phone service,” the doctor replied sharply.
“You don’t understand. I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your assistance, doctor, and your silence.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The doctor studied Walter through narrowed eyes. He slowly smiled as Walter explained his situation and told him what he wanted the doctor to tell Abby.
Walter then retrieved his wallet and furtively showed the doctor the dollar bills inside it. The man nodded. “Okay, we have a deal. Come with me!”
Walter followed the doctor to a nurse’s station on the second floor. All the nurses were checking on their patients, judging by the activity in the hallways. Nobody took much notice as the doctor lifted the phone and dialed Abby’s number.
“Good morning, Mrs. Taylor; this is Dr. Jones from the maternity hospital. I’m calling to inform you that we just discovered something very serious in one of the routine tests we performed on your son after he was born. He needs to come in for treatment immediately.”
Walter heard Abby’s emotional outcry from the other side of the nurse’s station but couldn’t make out her exact words.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss the details over the phone. All I can say for now is that he has a rare genetic condition. I’m sure he does seem fine now, but that could change at any moment. He’s at a higher risk for SIDS and several other life-threatening conditions. You really need to bring him in today, Mrs. Taylor.”
Dr. Jones ended the call a few minutes later and showed Walter a thumbs-up.
“She’s going to bring the baby in ASAP.” Dr. Jones held out his hand and wriggled his fingers. “I did my bit. Now it’s time for you to pay up.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter paid the doctor and went back downstairs. He wandered around for a few minutes before his phone started ringing. His lip curled in disgust when he checked the caller ID.
“You have some nerve to phone me after what you did, Abby,” Walter said. “Where’s Logan? I demand you bring him back.”
“Says the man who doesn’t even care enough about him to pay the ransom!” Abby shrieked. “That money was all fake, you tight-fisted jerk. Logan needs to see a doctor urgently, and I can’t take him because of you. Where’s the real money, Walter?”
“In my account, where it’s been all along. What’s wrong with Logan, or is this just another scheme to get my money?”
Abby swore at him and began to cry. “I told you; he’s sick! You’ve got to send me the money so he can receive treatment. He’ll die without it.”
“I won’t let my son die! I’ll pay,” Walter replied and hung up.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Hearing Abby confirm she was behind Logan’s kidnapping broke his heart all over again. It took a few minutes before he pulled himself together enough to send her an immediate payment via his money transfer app. Now, all he had to do was wait.
***
Tears trailed down Walter’s cheeks when his little brother, James, entered the hospital with Abby. James held Logan against his chest while Abby spoke to the receptionist.
It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion as the police officers and FBI agents came forward and surrounded Abby and James. Walter had informed the cops beforehand.
“You’re under arrest for kidnapping!” an FBI agent called out. “Hand the child over, nice and slowly, and raise your hands.”
“Get away from us!” Abby shrieked as she moved to stand between the FBI agent and Logan. “My son is sick. He needs to see a doctor.”
“No, he isn’t,” Walter called out as he approached the group. “There’s nothing wrong with Logan at all.”
Abby’s gaze locked onto him. Walter watched as the fear and uncertainty in her eyes shifted into red-hot fury. She rushed forward as though to attack him. But the police tackled her. She and James were arrested.
Walter hugged his son, relieved to have him back. But Abby wasn’t done yet.
“You think you’ve won? Logan isn’t even yours! You couldn’t get me pregnant, remember? But whatever’s wrong with you clearly doesn’t run in the family!” she yelled.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter froze. He looked at his brother, who wouldn’t even raise his head to look at him. It pained Walter. But nothing mattered because he had Logan with him.
“I will adopt him if that’s what I have to do!” he shot back. “I will watch him grow up while you two rot behind bars!” he said and left with Logan.
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I Attended My Husband’s Office Party for the First Time, but I Never Expected to See His Other ‘Wife’ There
When Jennifer stumbled upon an email inviting her husband to a glamorous New Year’s party with a plus-one allowed, her curiosity was piqued. But what she uncovered at the event shattered her trust, setting the stage for an unexpected twist of fate.
The laptop pinged, interrupting the movie we were watching. Oliver had just gone to the bathroom, leaving his laptop open on the coffee table.
An open laptop | Source: Pexels
I glanced at the screen, the glowing subject line catching my eye.
“Dear Mr. Oliver,
We are happy to announce the New Year party is coming up! Dress code: White Party. You may bring your plus-one (your wife). Address…”
A shocked woman looking at her laptop | Source: Pexels
I blinked, rereading the email. His company never allowed plus-ones. Never. I couldn’t count the number of times I had heard him complain about it. Yet, there it was in black and white—plus-one (your wife).
When Oliver came back, I tried to play it cool, though my curiosity was bubbling. “Your office is throwing a New Year’s party?” I asked casually.
An excited woman looking at her laptop | Source: Pexels
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, picking up his laptop and closing it before I could say more. “Nothing big. Just the usual end-of-year stuff.”
“Can I come?” I asked, tilting my head and smiling.
He froze for half a second before brushing it off. “No, they don’t allow guests. It’s more of a work event.”
I frowned. “But the email said—”
A frowning woman on the couch | Source: Pexels
“They don’t, Jen. Trust me.” His tone was clipped, and he didn’t meet my eyes. “Anyway, I’ll just be working that night. No big deal.”
That was the first time I felt something strange. Oliver always worked late or traveled for business, so I had gotten used to him being away. I trusted him, because that’s what you do in a marriage. But this time, his response felt… off.
A suspicious woman | Source: Pexels
New Year’s Eve arrived, and I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my white dress. Curiosity had gnawed at me for days. Why didn’t he want me at the party? Was he embarrassed? Hiding something?
“Happy New Year, Jen!” he called as he grabbed his coat, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Happy New Year,” I replied, watching him leave.
A man putting on his coat | Source: Midjourney
As soon as the door clicked shut, I grabbed my purse and headed out.
The hotel where the party was held glowed like a jewel in the night. The lobby was decorated with silver streamers, twinkling lights, and elegant floral arrangements. Guests in sparkling white outfits mingled, laughter and conversation filling the air. I felt both nervous and determined as I approached the reception desk.
A woman in a hotel | Source: Midjourney
“Name, please?” the manager asked with a polite smile, glancing up from his clipboard.
“Jennifer. I’m Oliver’s wife,” I said confidently.
His smile faltered for a moment, and he looked down at his list, then back up at me. Then, he laughed. “Nice try!”
“I’m Jennifer,” I repeated. “Oliver’s wife.”
A woman at a reception desk | Source: Midjourney
The manager’s expression turned awkward. “Oh… uh…” He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I think there’s been some confusion. Oliver already checked in… with his plus-one. His real wife.”
My chest tightened. “What?”
“Yes, he arrived about 30 minutes ago. They always arrive together, I’ve seen them many times.” He winced slightly, as if bracing for my reaction.
“I’m his wife,” I said sharply, the words feeling heavy on my tongue.
A hotel manager | Source: Pexels
He opened his mouth to reply but closed it again, his face apologetic. “Let me double-check the guest list.”
Before he could move, I caught a glimpse of Oliver in the far corner of the room. He was easy to spot in his crisp white suit. My breath caught when I saw him with her—a woman with long dark hair, her arm resting on his shoulder. They were laughing, leaning in close, their body language unmistakably intimate.
A couple at a party | Source: Pexels
The world seemed to spin. The glitzy decorations blurred as my mind raced.
“Ma’am?” the manager asked gently, breaking into my thoughts.
I turned back to him, my voice suddenly calm. “No need to check. I see him.”
He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something, but I was already walking away from the desk, away from the party, and away from Oliver.
A woman leaving a hotel | Source: Midjourney
Outside, the cold air stung my face, but it didn’t dull the fire burning inside me. I wrapped my coat tighter around me, my heels clicking on the sidewalk as I made my way to my car.
I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do, but I knew one thing: Oliver was going to regret this.
A sad woman walking on the street | Source: Midjourney
The next day, the phone rang just as I was pouring my morning coffee. I almost didn’t answer, still angry about last night, but something made me pick up.
“Is this Mr. Oliver’s wife?” a calm, professional voice asked.
“Yes,” I replied, my stomach twisting.
A serious woman walking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“This is Mercy Hospital. Your husband was in a car accident early this morning. He’s stable, but we need you to come in right away.”
My breath caught. “A car accident? Is he… is he okay?”
“He has a concussion and a broken arm. There are complications we’ll explain when you arrive.”
A hospital professional talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
I didn’t say another word. I grabbed my coat and rushed out the door, my anger from the night before swirling with worry.
At the hospital, the antiseptic smell hit me as I walked into the waiting area. Nurses bustled by, their faces neutral, while I stood there, my heart racing.
“Jennifer?” a doctor called, walking toward me. He was middle-aged, with a kind but serious expression.
A medical professional | Source: Pexels
“Yes. Is Oliver okay?”
“He’s stable for now, but there’s an issue we need to address,” he explained, motioning for me to sit. “His arm is fractured in several places. There’s a risk of long-term damage unless we operate soon. Unfortunately, there’s a problem with his insurance. His policy lapsed last month. As his wife, you can authorize the procedure and arrange payment.”
A woman talking to a doctor | Source: Midjourney
I blinked, trying to process his words. “His insurance… lapsed? Why didn’t he renew it?”
The doctor shook his head. “I can’t speak to that, but we do need to act quickly. Will you authorize the surgery?”
When I stepped into Oliver’s room, the sight of him startled me. His face was pale, a bandage wrapped around his head. His arm was in a sling, and he looked more fragile than I’d ever seen him.
A man in a hospital bed | Source: Freepik
“Jen,” he croaked when he saw me, his voice weak.
“Oliver,” I said stiffly, standing by the door.
His eyes searched mine, pleading. “I know you’re upset, but please… just listen. It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, it’s exactly what I think,” I said, my voice icy. “You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me. And last night, I saw you with her. You brought her to that party, didn’t you?”
An angry woman in a hospital | Source: Midjourney
His face went pale. “I can explain—”
“I don’t want your explanations,” I snapped, cutting him off. “The doctor says you need surgery, but your insurance lapsed. That sounds like a problem for your real wife to handle.”
“Jen, don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I made a mistake. Please, just sign the papers.”
A sad man in a hospital bed | Source: Freepik
I stared at him for a long moment, my heart pounding. Part of me wanted to scream, to cry, to give in and help him. But then I thought of all the times I had trusted him, only to find out it was all a lie.
“No, Oliver,” I said, my voice firm. “You’ve made your choices. Now you can live with them.”
I turned and walked out of the room without looking back.
A woman leaving a hospital room | Source: Midjourney
In the hallway, my steps felt lighter, as if a weight had lifted off my chest. For the first time in years, I realized I wasn’t responsible for cleaning up his messes.
It was over. Whatever happened next was up to him.
A few days later, I received a call from the hospital. It wasn’t the doctor. It was Oliver.
“Jen, please,” he begged. His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable. “She didn’t come. I’m alone here. I need you.”
A man talking on his phone in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
I said nothing, gripping the phone tightly as his words sank in. The “real wife” wasn’t so real after all. She hadn’t shown up, not for the surgery, not for anything. She’d disappeared the moment she realized he wasn’t the man he pretended to be.
“Jen?” he whispered.
“You made your choice, Oliver,” I said, my tone steady. “Now you can deal with the consequences.”
A serious woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
I hung up and blocked his number.
In the weeks that followed, I heard through mutual friends that Oliver’s career was falling apart. Word of his affair spread at work. The woman he’d paraded at the party was no longer seen with him, and his charm didn’t seem to fool anyone anymore.
But I didn’t feel sorry for him. I felt free.
A woman smiling with a balloon | Source: Pexels
For the first time in years, I wasn’t carrying the weight of his lies. Instead of worrying about his needs, I focused on myself.
I signed up for a pottery class—a silly dream I’d put off for years. I spent weekends hiking trails I’d always wanted to explore. I started painting again, filling my apartment with canvases splashed with color.
For years, I, Jennifer, had been the dutiful wife. But now, Jen was stepping into her own life.
A happy woman painting | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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