Two Little Secrets From My Boss

Chapter 241

Daphne’s POV

Dr. Sutton's office feels different today. Or maybe I'm different.

It's been two weeks since our last session—two weeks of Hope's diagnosis, Maya's betrayal, everything breaking and somehow starting to rebuild simultaneously.

Xander and I settle into our usual chairs. Dr. Sutton looks between us with that calm, assessing gaze that always makes me feel like she's reading things I haven't said out loud yet.

"How have the past two weeks been?" she asks, and the question is so enormous I almost laugh.

"Complicated," I manage. "Hope was diagnosed with congenital heart defects. Multiple abnormalities. She's on daily medication now, will need surgeries. And…" I glance at Xander. "We found out our assistant Maya wasn't who we thought she was."

"Tell me about that."

So we do. Xander and I take turns explaining—Maya's real identity, her sister's death. When we get to the threatening notes, I feel my throat tighten.

"She sent those notes about the twins."

I say, and my voice comes out harder than I intend.

"While I was pregnant. While I was already terrified about Hope, already drowning in fear that I might lose her. Maya added to that deliberately. Used my children as weapons to create chaos."

"Every interaction feels violated now. Every memory recontextualizes. She held my hand during labor—was that real or performance?"

I continue, the words spilling out faster.

"She comforted me when I cried about Hope's diagnosis. Played with Nina and Lisa like she loved them. Made herself indispensable to our family. And all of it was lies."

I'm surprised by the intensity of my own anger. I thought I'd processed this already, thought I'd moved past it to focus on Hope. But sitting here saying it out loud, I realize the betrayal cuts deeper than I've admitted.

"She was in our home," I say quietly. "Around my children. I trusted her completely. And she was there to destroy us."

“Maya sent those threatening notes while Daphne was pregnant with a baby who might die.”

Xander speaks for the first time, and his voice is cold in a way I rarely hear.

"She knew what Daphne was going through—the high-risk pregnancy, the fear, the medical complications. And she deliberately made it worse. Created terror as a tactic. Used our children to make Daphne vulnerable."

The coldness in his voice does something to my chest. This is righteous anger, protective fury on my behalf. And I realize it's one more thing uniting us—this shared rage at someone who hurt our family.

Dr. Sutton nods slowly, making notes. "I'm hearing a lot of 'our' and 'us' language today. That's a significant shift from your earlier sessions."

I blink, trying to remember how we talked before. But she's right—I can feel it now that she's pointed it out.

"Your first few sessions were full of 'I' and 'me' Individual pain, separate processing."

Dr. Sutton continues.

"'I can't forgive him.' 'I don't know if I can trust him with the children.' Each of you was experiencing this crisis alone, even while sitting in the same room. But today you're speaking as 'we' and 'us.' You're united."

"Hope's diagnosis changed things," Xander says quietly. "It made everything else matter less. Made us remember we're on the same team."

"And Maya's betrayal?" Dr. Sutton asks.

I consider this.

"It's strange, but yes. That too. We're both angry at her. Both feeling violated by what she did. It's like…" I search for the right words. "We're facing threats together now instead of being threats to each other."

My hand moves without conscious thought, reaching across the space between our chairs. Xander takes it immediately, his fingers lacing through mine with the automatic ease of something we've done a thousand times.

Dr. Sutton notices. I can see her noting it, probably adding it to whatever observations she's compiling about our progress.

"Daphne," she says gently, "you just said you're facing threats together instead of being threats to each other. That's powerful. What shifted? What made that change possible?"

I look at Xander, at his hand holding mine, at the exhaustion and love and fear all mixed together in his expression.

"I finally understand," I hear myself say. "His choice in the hospital—it wasn't about valuing Hope less. It wasn't about putting me above our children or making me more important. It was about loving me so much he couldn't imagine surviving without me."

Xander's hand tightens on mine.

"And now, facing Hope's illness together," My voice catches. "I understand that kind of desperate love. The kind that would make impossible choices. The kind that prioritizes keeping your family intact even when there are no good options."

I turn to face Xander fully now, needing him to hear this clearly.

"If I had been conscious in that hospital corridor, if the doctors had asked me to choose," I take a breath. "I don't know what I would have done. I want to believe I'd choose Hope. But when I think about losing you, about Nina and Lisa growing up without their father."

My throat closes. "I understand now. I understand the weight of that choice in a way I couldn't before."

Xander's eyes are wet. "Daphne…"

"I'm not saying I've forgiven you," I tell him honestly. "I'm not saying it doesn't still hurt. But I understand. And maybe that's enough for now."

The session continues, but this feels like the pivot point. Dr. Sutton guides us through processing both Hope's diagnosis and Maya's betrayal, helping us see how these two crises have forced us to unite instead of fracture.

By the time we leave her office, something has shifted between Xander and me. Not fixed—we're still broken in places. But the breaks are aligning differently now, like bones healing stronger at the fracture points.

In the car, Xander doesn't start the engine immediately. Just sits with his hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.

"Did you mean what you said in there?" he asks quietly. "About understanding my choice?"

"Yes." I reach for his hand again. "I meant it."

"But you haven't forgiven me."

"No." I won't lie to him about this. "I don't know if I can. Every time I look at Hope, I think about how close we came to losing her. How you were willing to…" I stop, breathe. "But I understand why you made the choice you did. And that's something. That's more than I had before."

Xander turns to face me, and I see hope and pain mixed together in his expression. "Is understanding enough? Can we build on that?"

I think about the past two weeks.

The way we've moved through Hope's medication schedule as a team. How we held each other through the terror of her respiratory episode. The way we've faced Maya's betrayal together, unified in our fury instead of divided by our pain.

"I think so," I tell him. "I think maybe understanding is enough for now. The rest—forgiveness, healing, whatever comes next—we'll figure it out as we go."

Xander lifts my hand to his lips, presses a kiss to my knuckles. "I'll take it. However long it takes, Daphne. I'll take whatever you can give me."

He starts the car, and we drive home in comfortable silence. Not the suffocating quiet of earlier weeks, but something peaceful. Companionable.

We're not fixed. But we're healing. And sometimes that's the same thing.