Page 31 of Fake Wife for Dr. Secret Daddy

I try to scowl, but my lips twitch, trying to smile. Ted is charming. He’s always been charming. There was a reason why two years ago, before everything, I gave him my virginity.

But I can’t let him draw me in too much. I’m already enthralled by him far more than is safe.

I need to keep my head screwed on. Just seeing him like this, relaxed and happy and handsome.

He’s beautiful and charismatic, and a part of me—a big, massive part of me hammering beneath my heart—wants to tell him everything.

I want Ted on my side.

I want him to know about our girls, that they’re out there, and to fight with me. If I had Ted… maybe Dr. Sam would give in to his son. Maybe I wouldn’t even need Dr. Sam if I had Ted.

Ted is rich and has connections, and now, with our marriage, he has access to his inheritance. Maybe Ted could find the twins.

Or maybe Ted could think I’m lying or I’m crazy. Perhaps he’d not believe I was ever pregnant. Maybe he’d not think that they’re still out there. Maybe…

Maybe he wouldn’t care.

I can’t risk it.

I give Ted a tight smile and then grab his hand. I tug him in, getting the situation over with. People clap, and then Luna comes running. When Ted scoops her up, and his family comes to congratulate him, I sneak away.

Austin meets me for a drink, and I smile appreciatively at my brother.

This reception was much bigger than I expected. I think I said hello and thank you to about a hundred people. It took an hour before I even got to finish my first drink.

Then I see him.

For the first time since the ceremony ended, Dr. Sam is wandering alone. Seeing him leave Grace and Luna behind, my heart leaps in my chest.

This is my chance.

I shove my champagne flute at Austin, shooting him a quick smile. “My wedding,” I remind him when he opens his mouth to protest. He rolls his eyes, but I ignore him and dart at Dr. Sam.

Darting is only sort of possible in this giant poofy dress. Grace and Luna chose it, which is fine with me, but now I must waddle everywhere.

I corner Dr. Sam by the wall, but no one is close enough to overhear. I imagine my tiara and wedding dress make me look less than intimidating, but the look on my face must overcome it because Dr. Sam startles.

“Congratulations, dear,” Dr. Sam says, smiling at me. It’s fake, and I know that. I know this man, even if he pretends I don’t.

“Why haven’t you told me anything?” I demand. My voice is low, but he still looks over my shoulder, face darkening.

“About what?”

“Don’t,” I warn. “What you did to me…” I feel my throat swelling and take a deep, shaking breath. I don’t want to cry. I want to look strong. I want to look dangerous. “Don’t.”

“It’s complicated,” Dr. Sam says. “It has been months, there’s a lot of logistics?—”

“This month,” I interrupt.

His eyes widen. “This month, what?”

“This month,” I repeat. “Find my girls this month. Tell me where to find them this month, or?—”

“There’s no proof,” he says, almost pityingly. “No one will believe you?—”

“Do you think people need to believe me for it to matter?” I snap harshly. I pointed a finger at him.

“The cops might not help me; my husband might not help me. But your reputation? Your hospital’s reputation? It doesn’t need proof. Just me, telling the truth.”

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