A new intern invited me to her wedding, but the groom’s name was my husband’s, Christian. I tell myself it was probably just a coincidence. At the moment, My colleague Sarah laughed and teased. "Chloe Evans landed herself a real catch—a self-made millionaire, even though he's like fifteen years older than her." "But he's so hot. Honestly, he doesn't look a day over thirty." As she spoke, Sarah pulled up a photo of Christian to show everyone. The entire office gasped in envy. I saw the photo too. It was my husband's face. Identical. My heart turned to ice. On their wedding day, I arrived early. Chloe wore a custom haute couture gown, beaming as she grabbed my hand. "Thank you so much, Ms. Vance, for taking time out of your busy schedule to witness my special day." ... A cold, bitter smile tugged at my lips. To be precise, I was here to witness their affair. At the entrance of the hotel stood two massive wedding photo standees. In the photos, Christian had his arm wrapped around Chloe's slender waist. Both of them looked radiant, blissfully happy. Staring at those images, I felt something rip my heart apart. Chloe's smile was as bright as sunshine as she pulled me toward the guest lounge. "Ms. Vance—" She paused, her smile turning tentative. "Since today's such a special occasion, I hope you don't mind if I drop the formalities and call you Eleanor instead?" She had just graduated from college this year. Only twenty-two years old. Her eyes sparkled with youth, her skin smooth and flawless like porcelain. At that age, even without makeup, she was devastatingly beautiful. Seeing her smile so joyfully made my heart ache. Still, I forced a smile. "Sure." I sat down in the lounge while she fussed over me—offering tea, fresh fruit. That love-drunk expression on her face was exactly how I had looked when I married Christian fifteen years ago. My chest felt like it was stuffed with a heavy stone. This morning, before coming to the wedding, I had called Christian. He told me he was still on a business trip out of state. Over video call, he looked like a homesick puppy, his eyes full of longing for me. He even showed me a necklace he'd bought for me. "I won't be back for another three days. I miss you so much, babe. I can't stand being away from you." I had nearly broken down right then. But I held it in. For the past fifteen years of our marriage. In everyone's eyes, Christian was the perfect husband. The perfect father. Even the perfect son-in-law. Before all of this came to light, I truly believed he was the best man in the world. The happier I had once been, the more unbearable the pain was now. My coworker Sarah came over, grinning as she grabbed Chloe’s hand. “You look absolutely stunning. So gorgeous!” Chloe blushed modestly and glanced at me. "It's just the makeup doing all the work. Eleanor is the truly beautiful one here." At the office, I was known for my looks. Back in school, I was voted the campus queen. Even though I was fifteen years older than Chloe, I still looked better than her. But marriage was never won on looks alone. I showed no emotion. Just a faint smile. Sarah leaned in, curiosity brimming. "Chloe, I heard you and your fiancé have been together for four years. How did you even meet a self-made millionaire like him?" Sarah playfully nudged her with an elbow. "Are there more guys like him? Hook me up and I'll file for divorce tomorrow." Hearing the words "four years," my insides shattered into ice. Four years. He had been lying to me for four years. And I hadn't noticed a single trace of his infidelity. I sat there, pretending to be calm, as Chloe spoke with shy sweetness. "He's the best gift fate ever gave me."
As she spoke, Chloe pulled Sarah to sit beside me. She continued, "My freshman year of college, both my parents died in an accident." "I nearly had to drop out. But it turned out my fiancé's alma mater was the same university I attended." "He endowed a million-dollar scholarship to the school every year. I was one of the students who received his funding." "That winter was brutally cold. To thank him, I hand-knitted him a sweater." "And that sweater... that's what started our love story." I remembered Christian did have a hand-knitted sweater. He treasured it like gold. But he told me it was a keepsake from his late mother. Once, our son accidentally dropped the sweater on the floor. Christian flew into a rage and beat him black and blue. So that sweater was hand-knitted by Chloe Evans. What broke my heart even more—he'd been donating a million dollars to that university every year, and I had no idea. Two years ago, he told me the company was facing a cash flow crisis. We mortgaged our house, his father's house, even my parents' house. That's how we supposedly saved the company from collapse. Even now, he claimed the business was barely breaking even—limping along, half-dead. Yet this shrewd, calculating man had been throwing away fortunes on charity—all to win the heart of a young girl. Sarah's envy was written all over her face. She pressed on, "I heard your husband's loaded, and he gives you all his money too. So why are you still working at our company, grinding away like the rest of us?" I perked up, hanging on Chloe's every word. Smile never left her face. "Even though he gives me everything—more money than I could spend in a dozen lifetimes—I still want to have a career I love. I don't want to just be some trophy wife he keeps at home." "I need to feel like I have value, you know?" More money than she could spend in a dozen lifetimes? My chest felt like it was caving in. Just last month, our son couldn't afford the $50,000 tuition for his elite private school. He had to transfer to a public school. The humiliation triggered anxiety and depression in my ten-year-old boy. I kept my voice steady as I asked, "What kind of business is your husband in? How does he make so much money?" "His main company is overseas. The domestic branch doesn't make much profit." My mind reeled. I had no idea Christian had a company overseas. For the past four years, he'd been telling me the business wasn't doing well. He stopped contributing to household expenses entirely. My annual salary after taxes was $80,000—just enough to cover our family's needs. So I never pressured him. Even when his mother passed away a few years back and her medical bills ran close to $200,000 over the course of a year. I paid for everything. I borrowed $100,000 of it. To pay back that debt as quickly as possible, I had to keep up appearances that we weren't struggling—while secretly cutting every corner I could. Christian witnessed so many sleepless nights I spent drowning in worry. He watched my hair turn gray at barely thirty. But he never once offered to help. Not a single dollar. Sarah kept prying, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I heard your fiancé is divorced. This is his second marriage, right? Can he handle things well with his ex-wife?" A bitter laugh rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Chloe looked completely unbothered, her face still glowing with happiness. "His ex-wife and son are both dead." My heart stopped. A gaping wound tore open in my chest, choking me. I couldn't believe it. Christian had told her our son and I were dead.
A flicker of regret crossed Chloe's face. "It was an accident. Such a tragedy. That poor woman never got to enjoy the life he could have given her." A few more colleagues arrived. Chloe's face lit up with that same radiant smile as she greeted them. She didn't notice the storm raging across my expression. The women crowded around her, gushing with envy. Everyone marveled at how lucky she was—landing a rich, devoted husband who adored her. Just then, Chloe's phone buzzed with a video call. It was Christian. Everyone urged her to pick up. Chloe blushed and giggled, declining the call. "I want to wait until the ceremony—when he puts the ring on my finger. I want that to be the first moment he sees me like this." The women squealed in delight. "Chloe's saving the big reveal for the ceremony! She wants to surprise him!" Chloe bit her lip, smiling shyly. "I'll let you in on a secret. Christian's first marriage didn't have a wedding." "No wedding photos. He never even got to see the woman he married in a wedding dress." "So today, I want to make this unforgettable for him. I want him to be happy." She wasn't wrong. Fifteen years ago, when Christian and I got married, he was broke. We had nothing. It was the definition of a no-frills wedding. He proposed with a ring from a 25-cent gumball machine. I used every cent I had to support his startup. Three months ago, our son suggested that Christian and I get wedding photos taken as a keepsake. Christian just laughed it off casually. "We're an old married couple. What's the point?" Then he added, "Maybe we should just take a family portrait instead." I felt a small pang of disappointment back then, but I didn't make a big deal out of it. I'd always believed that as long as our family was safe, happy, and together, nothing else mattered. He had completely forgotten the promise he made on our wedding day, when we were living in that cramped, $200-a-month basement apartment. He had tears in his eyes when he swore to me: "Babe, when I make it big, I'm going to give you everything. A real wedding.An engagement ring. Everything you deserve." But when he finally had everything, what he gave me instead was soul-crushing betrayal. Someone gasped in shock. "Wait—he didn't even have a wedding with his dead wife?" "He said he never loved her. He didn't want to marry her in the first place. His parents forced him into it." Chloe said this as casually as if she were talking about the weather. "He told me that when she died, he finally felt free. Like a weight had been lifted." "He said the sky finally felt bright again." My heart was being shredded, piece by piece. I never imagined Christian would humiliate and degrade our love like this in front of his mistress. He was the one who proposed to me twenty times before I finally said yes. I kept my face neutral. Emotionless. Chloe kept talking, then suddenly covered her mouth and gagged. It looked exactly like morning sickness. I asked, "Are you pregnant?" Her eyes sparkled with joy as she nodded. "Yes. You have such a sharp eye, Eleanor. I just found out. I'm two months along." The women swarmed her again, showering her with congratulations. They cooed about how her baby would be the heir to a fortune. Chloe didn't shy away from the topic. "Christian already transferred all his assets into my name and the baby's." "I just started this job, and then I found out I was pregnant. He told me to quit immediately." "He wants me and the baby to move overseas. He says he wants to give us the best life possible." More envious squeals erupted. Meanwhile, my spine turned to ice. Her child was the heir? Then what the hell was my son? My ten-year-old boy—who risked his life at age eight to save Christian from a fire.
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