The poster had shared many posts before, showing off houses, cars, and family photos.
When I saw the little girl with pigtails, I shook my head.
People would really make up anything for attention these days.
His kid was at the age of kindergarten.
I was about to close the window when something caught my eye—the car he had posted was identical to the one York drove.
5
My palms started to sweat.
I looked back at the photos of his wife and kid.
The wife was just a vague outline, making it hard to identify her.
But the little girl, with her lovely features, bore no resemblance to York.
I scrolled through the poster's other posts, mostly mundane daily matters, with no apparent anomalies.
It must be a coincidence, I told myself.
I returned to the previous page and saw the secretary's back again.
It suddenly struck me. This was the same woman York had been holding in the street during the day!
Was this account York's?
Had he been cheating and had a child?
The thought made me immediately get up. I wanted to tell Janet. But I stopped halfway to the door.
No.
These few photos alone couldn't prove anything. If I told Janet now, she would surely confront York immediately.
By then, he could deny everything and cover up the obvious clues, making it difficult to uncover his faults.
If he could make such disgusting remarks about Janet's inability to have children while already having a child himself, his intentions were truly malevolent.
He was such a beast!
I seethed with anger, returned to the computer, saved the photos from the post, and then called a friend in the tech department to help me investigate the poster's information.
Just then, Jimmy's call came in. He said the results were back, and it was indeed birth control pills.
I hung up, staring at the address sent by my friend from the tech department, my mind in turmoil. It was a villa district in the suburbs.
On Sunday, I took Janet to the hospital, lying that a friend of mine knew an international expert who specialized in infertility, but we needed some information from her.
I also told her not to mention it to York, and she agreed.
Even though I had seen many of her past medical reports, and Janet always believed her infertility was her own fault, I couldn't buy it.
Those reports were always taken by York after Janet's hospital visits and brought back with the doctor's comments.