Husband's Affair on Live TV

The weather alert blared from my phone for the third time today, each notification more urgent than the last. I stared at the screen, watching the hurricane warning banner scroll across the bottom of my work email.

"Hurricane Eleanor strengthening rapidly... expected to make landfall in Seattle area within 24 hours... residents urged to secure property and stay indoors..."

My stomach twisted into a knot. I was supposed to be in Portland for three days of meetings, but now I just wanted to be home with Nolan.

"Bryan should be handling everything," I whispered to myself, trying to focus on the presentation slides in front of me. But my mind kept drifting to my eight-year-old son, probably staring out the window at the darkening sky, waiting for me to come home.

I glanced at my watch. 3:15 PM. The school would be releasing early because of the storm. I'd arranged for Bryan to pick up Nolan before heading to our evacuation location. At least, that's what we'd discussed before I left.

"Ms. Howard?" My colleague touched my arm. "The clients are waiting."

I nodded, forcing a smile as I gathered my materials. "Just give me one minute."

Stepping outside the conference room, I dialed Bryan's number again. Straight to voicemail.

"Bryan, it's me again. Please call me back. I'm worried about Nolan and the storm—"

A text message popped up: "Airport closing. Flights canceled. Stuck in Portland until storm passes."

I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes briefly. Of course. Of course this would happen now.

The TV in the hotel lobby blared with emergency broadcasts. Meteorologists pointed to swirling masses on radar screens, their voices urgent as they predicted record-breaking wind speeds and dangerous storm surges.

"Seattle hasn't seen a hurricane this severe in decades," one expert said grimly. "Residents should take extreme precautions."

My phone rang. Bryan finally returning my call.

"Where are you?" I asked without preamble.

"Busy," he replied tersely. "What is it?"

"The storm—it's getting worse. I'm stuck in Portland until it passes."

A pause. "You should have thought about that before scheduling a business trip during hurricane season."

The coldness in his voice made me blink. "Bryan, I need to know you'll take care of Nolan. Please tell me you've picked him up from school."

"He's fine," Bryan said dismissively. "I've got more important things to deal with right now."

More important than our son? I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the hurricane.

"Like what?" I pressed.

"Maria needs help preparing her house for the storm," he said, his voice softening with concern I rarely heard when he spoke about our family. "She's all alone with Meilani, and Marcos would have wanted me to look after them."

I gripped the phone tighter. Maria Webb—his brother's widow—and her daughter Meilani. Always Maria and Meilani.

"Bryan, Nolan needs you," I insisted. "The school is closing early. He'll be scared."

"I'll get to it when I can," he replied, then hung up.

I stared at my phone in disbelief.

Three hours later, I'd rescheduled my meetings and was frantically calling every airline, trying to find any way back to Seattle. No luck. The storm had already started battering the coast.

My phone buzzed with a news alert. I opened it to see a live broadcast from the Washington coastline.

"...brave souls who've ventured to the coast despite warnings," the reporter was saying, her voice nearly drowned out by the howling wind.

The camera panned to capture a family huddled together on a beach, waves crashing wildly behind them.

I froze.

Bryan stood with his arm around Maria Webb, her dark hair whipping across her face as she laughed. Little Meilani clung to his leg, her small face turned up toward him adoringly.

"We're just experiencing nature at its most powerful," Bryan told the reporter, his voice carrying that charming tone he rarely used with me anymore. "Maria and I wanted to show Meilani what a real storm looks like."

Maria and I. Not Maria and Bryan. Maria and I.

"Are you crazy?" the reporter asked, clearly shocked by their presence at the beach. "The authorities are telling everyone to evacuate."

Bryan smiled confidently. "We know what we're doing. We're a family."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

"A family?" the reporter echoed.

"Yes," Bryan said proudly, pulling Maria closer. "This is my wife Maria, and our daughter Meilani."

Wife. Our daughter.

The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering onto the hotel carpet.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Seattle, my son was alone.