Sorry, Major Hubby, Your Nanny Wife Has Secrets Too novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Everything changed when Cathy came back.

I was in Iris’s nursery, feeding her while humming softly, when I heard Enzo’s phone ring downstairs. His voice carried up through the baby monitor I’d forgotten to turn off.

“Cathy? My God, where have you been?”

The bottle slipped from my hands, I knew that name–he’d mentioned an ex–girlfriend once, someone who’d “disappeared” from his life years ago.

“You’re back? Are you… yes, of course. Come to the house. I’ll send a car.”

I carefully placed Iris in her crib and went downstairs. Enzo was pacing by the windows, running his hands through

his hair.

“Who was that?” I asked, though I already knew.

“An old friend. Someone I thought I’d never see again.” He turned to me, and there was something in his expression I’d never seen before–excitement mixed with anxiety. “Cathy’s coming over. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” I lied smoothly.

When she arrived an hour later, I understood immediately why Enzo had looked so unsettled. Cathy was stunning–tall, elegant, with the kind of effortless beauty that made other women invisible by comparison.

“Enzo,” she breathed, rushing into his arms like she belonged there..

He held her tightly, longer than was appropriate for greeting an old friend in front of his wife.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he murmured into her hair.

I cleared my throat. “You must be Cathy. I’m Lydia, Enzo’s wife.”

She turned to me with surprise, as if she’d genuinely forgotten anyone else existed. “Wife? Enzo didn’t mention… well, it’s lovely to meet you.”

But her eyes were cold, calculating. I recognized the look–Isabella had perfected the same expression.

“This is quite a surprise,” Enzo said, finally stepping back but keeping his hands on her shoulders. “What happened? Where did you go?”

“It’s complicated,” Cathy said, tears welling in her eyes. “My husband… Victor… he died in a car accident three months ago. I’ve been dealing with the estate, the funeral, everything alone.”

“Victor?” Enzo’s face went white. “You married Victor Chen?”

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“You were gone so much with work,” she said defensively. “He was there, he proposed, and I thought… I thought you didn’t want to settle down.”

“I was building the company for us! Everything I did was for our future

I watched this emotional reunion with growing inease. The way they looked at each other, the history heavy in the air between them–I’d seen this before.

“I have a son,” Cathy continued. “Tyler. He’s four now, and he’s been asking about his father’s friends. Victor talked about you all the time.”

“Bring him here,” Enzo said immediately. “You both need family right now.”

“Enzo,” I interjected carefully, “maybe we should discuss-”

“Of course they’re staying with us,” he said firmly. “Victor was my best friend. It’s the least I can do.”

That night, after Cathy had gone to collect Tyler and their belongings, I tried to talk to Enzo privately.

“This is a lot to take in.” I said as he paced the bedroom. “Are you sure having them stay here is the best idea?”

“Lydia, Cathy was… she was important to me once. And Victor was like a brother. They’re family.”

“And what about our family? What about Iris?”

He stopped pacing and looked at me with impatience. “What about her? There’s plenty of room in this house.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

I wanted to say that I’d seen how he looked at Cathy, how he’d held her. I wanted to say that I’d been through this before–watching the man I loved choose someone else right in front of me.

But I was tired of being the jealous wife, tired of sounding paranoid.

“Nothing.” I said finally. “You’re right. They need help.”

Over the next few weeks, Cathy made herself indispensable. She cooked elaborate meals, organized social events, and somehow managed to be perfectly dressed and made up at all times–even first thing in the morning.

Tyler was charming and precocious, quick to win over Enzo with his advanced vocabulary and mature observations.

“Uncle Enzo,” he said one evening at dinner, “Mommy says you and she used to be very close.”

“We were good friends,” Enzo replied, his eyes finding Cathy’s across the table.

“She cries sometimes at night. She misses the old days.”

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“Tyler.” Cathy said softly, reaching for his hand. “Let’s not talk about sad things,”

But the damage was done. Enzo’s expression lind softened completely, and I could see him falling deeper into whatever spell she was weaving.

The breaking point came three weeks later. I’d been up all night with Iris, who was teething and inconsolable. When 1 finally got her to sleep around five AM, I collapsed into bed exhausted.

I woke up at noon to find the house eerily quiet. No sounds of Tyler playing, no clatter from the kitchen where Cathy usually prepared her gourmet hunches.

I found a note on the kitchen counter in Enzo’s handwriting: “Took Cathy and Tyler to the beach for the day. Iris is with the nanny. Rest well. – E

He’d taken her and her son on a family outing without even asking if I wanted to come. Without waking me up. Without including his own daughter.

When they returned that evening, sunburned and laughing, Tyler ran to show me the seashells they’d collected.

“Look what Uncle Enzo bought me!” He held up an expensive remote–control boat. “We’re going sailing next weekend!”

“How wonderful.” I managed.

Cathy appeared in the doorway, glowing from the sun and attention. “Lydia, you should have come. Though I suppose someone needed to stay with the baby.”

The baby. Not Iris. Not Enzo’s daughter. The baby.

“Next time,” I said quietly.

But there wouldn’t be a next time. As the weeks passed, I watched my husband transform back into the man he’d been

before he met me–animated, passionate, fully engaged with life

Just not with me.

He started working late again, but now it was to accommodate Cathy’s schedule. She’d enrolled Tyler in expensive activities, and somehow it fell to Enzo to drive him back and forth.

“It’s temporary,” he assured me when I mentioned how little time we were spending together. “Just until Cathy gets back on her feet.”

But Cathy showed no signs of wanting to get back on her feet. She was perfectly content to let Enzo provide for her and her son while treating me like an inconvenient obstacle in her own home.

The final straw came on our second wedding anniversary. Enzo had promised to take me to dinner, just the two of us. I’d arranged for a babysitter, bought a new dress, made reservations at our favorite restaurant.

At six PM, he called.

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“Lydia, I’m so sorry. Tyler had an accident at school–nothing serious, but Cathy’s panicking. I need to meet them at the hospital.”

“On our anniversary?”

“It’s just dinner, we can reschedule.”

Just dinner. Our anniversary was just dinner.

I hung up and looked at myself in the mirror–dressed up for a date that would never happen, in a marriage that was already over.

Just like busy trying

love with Alexander. I’d been so to be the perfect wife that I’d failed to notice my husband falling in

someone else.