Call from the Future- My Husband Told Me My Best Friend Bared His Children Chapter 01

Call from the Future- My Husband Told Me My Best Friend Bared His Children Chapter 01

The night before our wedding, I called Gideon on FaceTime. A man three years in the future picked up.

I clutched our freshly issued marriage certificate. Buzzing with excitement, I fired off questions about our life together. “Gideon. Our wedding—cathedral or ballroom? Do we fight? Did we have a baby? A cute one? Is her name Annabel?”

His voice was warm. Patient. He answered one by one. “Both. A ceremony in a cathedral, one in a ballroom. And no fighting. Just sweet.”

But when I asked about children, his tone shifted. “Actually. You won’t need to carry a baby. Your best friend already had twins for me. They’re six now.”

My fingers went numb around the phone. I stared. Eyes wide. Uncomprehending.

He kept talking. Almost savoring it. “The night I told you how I felt? She stripped and climbed into my bed. That’s when she got pregnant. Like we agreed. The boy’s name is Liam. The girl is Stella. Both look just like me.”

My brain went white. The hand holding the phone shook uncontrollably.

Gideon misread my silence. His voice turned playful. “Don’t believe me? Come see for yourself. Three years from now.”

The words barely landed before my vision spun. Hard. When I opened my eyes again, I really was three years in the future. The marriage certificate was still crumpled in my hand.

I looked around. Just ahead—the estate Gideon had designed for me. Our dream house.

His words replayed in my head. I couldn’t stop myself. Walked to the front door. Tried my birthday. Wrong passcode. His birthday. Wrong again.

Only one try left. My hand trembled. I typed in Serena Whitfield’s birthday. The lock clicked open.

“Welcome home, my wife Serena Whitfield.”

Gideon’s voice. Warm. Familiar. Almost joyful. Recorded just for her. The marriage certificate in my hand burned red. Blinding.

I stood frozen. Then stumbled inside. In the center of the great room—Serena and Gideon’s wedding portrait. Massive. Filling an entire wall. Happiness declared without shame. They each held a child’s hand. Smiles bright. Dazzling.

The background was France. Gideon had only been there once. Our engagement day. He’d said there was an emergency. Left me to host the engagement party alone. I’d been understanding. Told myself his work mattered. Didn’t care who laughed at me.

I never knew. He’d abandoned me just to give someone else a wedding.

Their smiles stabbed into my eyes. I looked away. That’s when I heard it. Upstairs. The bedroom. A man and a woman. Panting. Moaning. My shaking hand pushed the door open. The bed was shaking so hard everything around it trembled.

On the nightstand. Our wedding photo. Ten inches. Like a buy-one-get-one-free throwaway from the giant portrait downstairs. My smiling face. Smeared with something white.

Gideon glanced up when the door opened. Barely. Then he gripped her waist harder. Pressed a kiss to her skin. “Shh. Don’t worry. It’s just the help.”

Right in front of me. Desperate. Hungry. Position after position. When the woman finally collapsed into exhausted sleep, the picture frame crashed to the floor. Shattered.

Flying shards cut my face. Serena didn’t stir. He’d shielded her. Carefully. Completely. Not a single scratch.

Since we were children. Every time I got hurt. That was the first time he’d ever just watched.

When we were little, he could barely walk steady. But he always caught me before I hit the ground. Threw himself under me like a cushion. He’d punch out kids who bullied me. Get the mean girls expelled. Send stalkers to prison. twenty-five years by my side. His arms always reached me before any pain did.

Now he didn’t even look at me. Just stroked her hair. Gentle. Murmured a cold command. “Take this broken trash out. And keep it quiet.”

I stood in the doorway. Watched our wedding photo get swept away like garbage. Shattered past repair. He cleaned her up. Practiced. Efficient. Wiped her down. Dried her hair. Tucked her in.

Only then did his eyes land on me. Irritation all over his face.

“Seraphina Grant. The only reason you’re out of that psychiatric facility today is the twins’ birthday. Be a good Godmother. Maybe I’ll consider discharging you.”

I stood there. Frozen. Like a hand had closed around my throat. “What… what did you say?” Psychiatric facility? Godmother? What happened in three years?

The confusion on my face made him pause. He studied me. The irritation slowly shifted into surprise.

“You’re her. Three years ago. Seraphina.” He sounded certain. Almost nostalgic. Reached out to touch my hair. “Yesterday’s call brought you here.”

I flinched back. White-faced. Lips trembling. “How can you be so sure?”

His hand stopped in midair. Lowered slowly. He laughed. Soft. Bitter. “Because if you were the Seraphina from now, you’d already have a knife in my chest. Three years later, Seraphina. All you want is me dead.”

*****