When her daughter exhibits unusual behavior, Jennifer questions everything. Eventually, Emma tells her the truth — that she found a box of her father’s secrets.

My daughter, Emma, has always been the rainbow child, wearing the brightest colors and drawing unicorns and butterflies.

But recently, there has been a change in her behavior. She’s been withdrawn, hasn’t been eating properly, and always wants to sit outside.

At first, I didn’t think much about it because Emma constantly goes through phases. But then, her teacher, Mrs Silverton, called me in for a parent-teacher meeting.

She was just in kindergarten, but the school prided itself on checking in with parents.

“I didn’t want to alarm you, Jennifer, but there’s something concerning going on with Emma.”

She pulled out a yellow file and showed me a series of drawings by Emma — all dark and shadowy, menacing even.

I drove home from the school in silence. I knew that something was different with Emma, but I didn’t think it was that bad.

Later, while I made noodles for our dinner, I decided to talk to Emma about it.

“Sweetheart,” I said. “I went in to see Mrs Silverton today.”

“Really? Why?” she asked curiously.

“She spoke about the new drawings you’ve been doing and how different they are from the usual ones.”

She looked at her bowl of noodles, twirling her fork through it — her response was silence.

“Emma, darling, you can tell Momma anything.”

Finally, she spilled the beans.

“I found Daddy’s secret,” she said quietly.

“What secret, honey?” I asked her.

“Come, I’ll show you, Momma,” she said, jumping up from the table.

William, my husband, lives with Emma and me only part-time because of his job. Sometimes, he must work away from home, and traveling always gets to him. So, he decided to rent an apartment for when he worked away.

When Emma led me to William’s home office, I wondered what my daughter had discovered.

I watched as she went to William’s desk and opened the top drawer, taking out an old box.

“I saw this when I came looking for crayons,” she said.

Emma gave me the box before bolting to her room.

I took the container and sat at William’s desk, my heart pounding as I opened the lid.

The moment I glimpsed inside, my entire world crumbled.

Inside were photos — images of William hugging another woman and a set of three beautiful children, aged between two and seven years old.

My emotions somersaulted from shock to betrayal to raw heartbreak.

Beneath the photos was a little notebook with numbers scribbled in them. It seemed like a replica of my notebook in my handbag with all the emergency numbers ready.

I looked at the photographs again, and it became abundantly clear — not only was my husband having an affair, but the children were also my husband’s. It was right there, in their faces. William’s eyes were planted on their smiles.

Tears streamed down my face as I came to grips with the truth. William had been leading a double life, and Emma and I had been the unsuspecting main characters in this twisted plot.

I knew that I needed to confront William but I didn’t know how to deal with the entirety of the situation. I just knew that Emma needed some stability. It was affecting her already.

I returned everything to the box and stored it on the desk.

As I left the room, I found Emma standing in the hallway, her eyes wide with worry and confusion.

“Let’s get you to bed,” I said. “I promise you, everything is going to be just fine.”

I put Emma to bed and went to the kitchen to make tea.

The following day, I decided to unravel the web of deceit that William had spun.

I dropped Emma off at school and then went back home. I took another look at the small book and called Mia, the woman in the photographs. I pretended to be their son’s teacher.

As betrayed as I felt, everything was seamless, thanks to William’s little notebook.

“Hang on,” Mia told me. “Speak to husband, William.”

I heard William’s voice on the phone, confirming my worst fears. I hung up immediately.

As the hours dragged on and the time to pick Emma up edged closer, I needed to do something. I needed some answers before I looked at Emma’s precious little face.

I picked up the phone again, called Mia, and told her everything.

She was just as shocked as I was and revealed that she didn’t know about Emma and me.

Next, I called my lawyer — I needed to end my marriage to William. Emma deserved better. Mia deserved better, and so did her children. I deserved better, too.

A few weeks passed, and Mia came over — we sat and spoke for hours and uncovered the truth — William had just used the both of us, keeping our families in different towns to keep us from finding out about each other.

William was too selfish to realize the pain and torment that both families would face when things got out.

My lawyer took over for Mia and me, ensuring we would get justice. We also wanted the four kids to get to know each other as siblings — because the children were siblings regardless of what was happening.

Ultimately, we united against a man who manipulated our lives, unveiling a story more convoluted than any soap opera plot.

Our lawyer ensured that we got alimony from William — although we could never figure out how William had managed to marry both of us — and kept the lie going for so many years.

I’ve also gotten Emma into therapy to ensure that my daughter was healing from this traumatic experience. But if I’m being honest, I think the best therapy was Emma getting to know her half-siblings.

If you were in my shoes, what would you have done?