**A Surprise at the Viewing: Not a Flat, but a Photo and the Truth That Changed Everything**
When Victoria Hartwell, a young and successful estate agent from York, headed to yet another property viewing, she never imagined this meeting would shatter her reality.
By the entrance stood a woman in a bright yellow coat, clutching a large grey bag. Recognising her as the client from the description, Vicky approached, introduced herself, and suggested heading straight inside. But the stranger gave a gentle smile and said,
“I don’t actually need the flat. I came to talk… and to show you something.”
Victoria was puzzled, but before she could ask, the woman pulled an album from her bag and handed it over.
“You’ll understand in a moment.”
As she turned the pages, Victoria felt the ground disappear beneath her. The photos showed her fiancé, Andrew Peterson—with this woman and a little boy, arms wrapped around each other at celebrations, in everyday moments. Not an actor, not a lookalike—her Andrew.
“My name is Natalie,” the woman said softly. “I’m his… common-law wife. Seven years. This is our son, Timothy.”
A cold shiver ran down Vicky’s spine. She looked up.
“This can’t be true. His passport says he’s neither married nor a father.”
Natalie gave a sad, bitter laugh.
“Our marriage isn’t official, but we lived as a family. Or rather… we used to. He left for a ‘business trip’ and never came back. Now I’ve learned he’s living with you.”
Silence. Victoria clenched her jaw, hands trembling.
“What do you want?”
“Give him back. He’s… lost. It’s not your fault. But he’s mine. He’s my son’s father.”
Victoria couldn’t speak. The words stuck in her throat. Natalie stood, tucked the album away.
“Think about it. I’ve said what I came to say.”
And with that, she left.
That evening, when Andrew returned home, he was met with icy silence. All his belongings were neatly packed by the door.
“Have you lost your mind?” he snapped. “What’s going on?”
“Your wife came by. Your son’s… a lovely boy, by the way.”
Andrew turned pale.
“Listen, it’s not what you think. I just—”
“Just lied?” she cut in. “Seven years with a woman, a child, and you fed me stories about alcoholic parents and loneliness. You were so convincing.”
He looked down, scrambling for excuses, but Vicky wasn’t listening. He left. For good.
Three months passed. Victoria stopped checking his social media. Natalie never reappeared. The pain dulled. And though a bitter aftertaste remained, for the first time, Vicky could breathe freely again.