After my late husband’s automobile crash revealed his hidden life, I adopted his secret twin daughters 13 years ago. I gave them everything, but they evicted me at sixteen. One week later, I learned their horrifying motive.

The morning Andrew died started like any other. The sun was just peaking through my window, casting a lovely, golden glow on my shabby countertops, making them seem magical.

I had my last normal moment for a long time.

I nearly ignored the phone call. Who calls 7:30 a.m.? I picked up, perhaps by intuition.

“Is this Ruth?” A polite, hesitant man’s voice.

“Speaking.” I took another coffee sip while watching the steam dance.

“Ma’am, Officer Matthews, Police Department. Unfortunately, your husband was in an accident this morning. His death occurred.”

The mug fell from my hand and broke on the linoleum. Coffee splashed my bare feet, but I barely felt it. “What? “That’s not Andrew!”

“Ma’am…” The officer lowered his tone. You need to know more. A second woman in the automobile perished, leaving two daughters. Our database shows they’re Andrew’s kids.”

I slipped down the kitchen cabinet to the floor, barely noticing the coffee on my robe.

The room swirled as my coffee mug shattered after ten years of marriage. “Children?”

Ma’am, twin girls. Three years old.”

Three years old. Three years of deception, late meetings, and business trips. Three years of another family living parallel to mine, just out of sight. The guy had been living a whole other life while I’d been struggling through infertility treatments and the agony of two miscarriages.

“Ma’am? Are you still there?”

“Yes,” I muttered, though I wasn’t sure I was. Not really. “What… what happens to them now?”

“Their mother had no living relatives. They’re currently in emergency foster care until—”

I hung up. I hated hearing more.

Black garments and pitying eyes dominated the funeral. I stood like a statue, taking condolences from people who didn’t know whether to treat me like a widow or a scorned woman.

But then I saw those two small figures in matching black outfits holding hands so tight their knuckles were white. My husband’s secret daughters.

One stuck her thumb in her mouth. The other picked her dress hem. They appeared lost and alone. Andrew’s betrayal hurt, but I felt for them.

“Those poor things,” my mother whispered. “Their foster family couldn’t come today. Can you imagine? Their only support is the social worker.”

I saw one twin slip and her sister catch her like they were one person. Something broke in my chest.

“I’ll take them,” I said.

Mom looked horrified at me.

Honey, Ruth, you can’t be serious. After his deed?”

Mom, see them. They’re innocent and alone.”

“But—”

“I couldn’t have kids. Maybe this is why.”

Adoption was a nightmare of paperwork and questions.

Why want my unfaithful husband’s secret kids? Did I have enough mental stability? Was this revenge?

I persevered and got Carrie and Dana.

The early years were a dance of healing and pain. The girls were nice but suspicious, waiting for me to change my mind. I heard them whispering late at night about “when she sends us away.”

Every time, it shattered my heart.

“We’re having mac and cheese again?” Seven-year-old Dana questioned one night, her nose furrowed.

I said, “It’s what we can afford this week, sweetie,” attempting to be light. “But look — I put extra cheese on yours, just how you like it.”

My voice must have been heard by Carrie, always more sensitive. She elbowed sister.

She said, “Mac and cheese is my favorite,” but I knew better.

I knew I had to tell them the truth by age 10. The whole truth.

I’d practiced the words 100 times in front of my bathroom mirror, but witnessing their innocent faces on my bed made me want to vomit.

“Girls,” I began, shaking. “There’s something about your father and how you came to be my daughters that you need to know.”

Cross-legged on my worn quilt, they mirrored attention.

I informed them about Andrew’s double life, their birth mother, and the dreadful morning I got the call. I told them how seeing them at the funeral crushed my heart and confirmed that we were meant to be together.

The silence felt forever. The freckles on Dana’s pale skin looked like paint. Carrie’s lip twitched.

“So… so Dad was a liar?” Cracked Dana’s voice. “He was cheating on you?”

“And our real mom…” Carrie hugged herself. “She died because of him?”

Dear, it was an accident. A tragic accident.”

“But you…” Dana’s eyes narrowed, something dreadful entering her young face. You just took us? Some sort of consolation prize?”

“No! I took you cause—”

“Because you felt sorry for us?” Now crying, Carrie interrupted. “Because you couldn’t have your own kids?”

“I took you because I loved you the moment I saw you,” I grabbed them, but they retreated. “You were no consolation. Your gift.”

“Liar!” Dana spat, jumping off bed. “Everyone lies! Come on, Carrie!”

Running to their room, they slammed the door. The latch clicked, then muffled sobs and furious whispers.

The next few years were dangerous. Some days were good when we went shopping or watched movies on the sofa. But when enraged, they used knives.

“At least our real mom wanted us from the start!”

“Maybe she’d still be alive if it wasn’t for you!”

Each barb was surgically placed. As kids entered their teens, I withstood their storms, thinking they’d understand.

Then came that terrible day after the girls turned sixteen.

My key wouldn’t turn in the lock when I got home from work. The letter on the door caught my attention.

“We’ve grown up. Our own space is needed. Move in with your mom!”

My suitcase waited beside the door, imprisoning my hopes. I heard movement inside, but no one answered my calls or banging. I stood there for an hour before getting in my car.

I pace like a caged animal at Mom’s.

“They’re acting out,” she replied, watching me mark her carpet. “Testing your love.”

“What if it’s more than that?” I regarded my quiet phone. What if they’ve determined I’m worthless? I’m the pity-filled woman who took them in?”

“Ruth, you stop that right now.” Mom grasped my shoulders.

For thirteen years, you’ve been their mother in every way. Yes, they hurt. They’re upset about matters beyond your control. But they love you.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because they’re acting exactly like you did at sixteen.” Sadly, she smiled. “Remember when you ran away to Aunt Sarah’s?”

I did. I was furious about… what? A small matter. I returned after three days due to homesickness.

Five more days passed slowly.

Calling in ill at work. I ate little. I ran for my phone every time it buzzed, only to get spam calls or worried friend texts.

Finally, on the seventh day, I got the call I wanted.

“Mom?” Carrie’s voice sounded soothing, as when she crawled into my bed after thunderstorms. “Come home? Please?”

My heart was racing as I drove home.

That my house was transformed when I rushed through the front door was unexpected. Floors sparkled and walls were freshly painted.

“Surprise!” The gals came out of the kitchen grinning like kids.

“We’ve been planning this for months,” Dana said, hopping. “Working at the mall, babysitting, saving everything.”

“Sorry for the mean note,” Carrie apologised. “It was the only way we could think of to keep it a surprise.”

They showed me their magnificent home office, once their nursery. The walls were lavender, and a photo of the three of us on adoption day, tearful and happy, was hung by the window.

She said, “You gave us a family, Mom,” tears in her eyes. You didn’t have to, even when we reminded you of all that hurt. You selected us and are the best mom ever.”

I hugged my girls, inhaling their shampoo smell and felt their hearts beat against mine.

I’ve never had anything better than you two. Your encouragement kept me going. More than you know, I love you.”

Dana replied, “But we do know, Mom,” against my shoulder. “We’ve always known.”