Chapter 1

In my fourth year as Edward Pierce's wife, I discovered our marriage had never been real at all.

He'd arranged it all to legalize his illegitimate son.

He said, "That certificate was only ever temporary. There's no need to be so calculating."

I nodded, keeping silent. I calmly tore the fake marriage license clean in two.

Edward's expression turned cold. "It is just a piece of paper. Must you be so unyielding?"

A low laugh slipped from my lips. "We've lived as husband and wife all these years. You of all people should know me well, Mr. Pierce."

*****

It was ten in the morning, and I was standing outside the immigration office. The cold wind cut right through my coat, making my knuckles go white from the chill. My phone buzzed. Stella Brooks had sent me a photo.

Right in the center of the frame, Edward, dressed in a dark grey suit, leaned over to adjust Vivian Grant's veil for her. Vivian tilted her head, her smile radiant.

Edward's profile showed a patience I'd never seen in all my four years as his wife.

Then came a voice message. "Charlotte Nash, didn't you say Edward was on a business trip to Northgate? So why is he helping Ms. Grant try on a wedding dress?

"And about your visa, didn't he always make sure everything was taken care of? For the past four years, he wouldn't even let you go to the supermarket without sending a car to follow you."

I didn't reply.

The visa rejection slip in my hand was already crumpled from how tightly I'd been holding it.

Half an hour ago, the clerk at the window slid the slip across to me. "Ms. Nash, the system says you're single. You can't apply for a spouse visa."

I pressed myself against the stone pillar, my fingertips trembling.

I'd been with Edward for four years.

After I moved in with the Pierce family, Edward took all my identification documents, saying it was to spare me the trouble.

I gave up every trace of my existence outside of him and settled into the role of his full-time wife.

A cold sweat broke out on my back.

I pulled up my official personal records online. When I scanned down to marital status, the word single stared right back at me.

At eleven in the morning, I got back to my apartment. I opened the safe in the study. At the very bottom was that marriage certificate.

I pulled it out, pressing my fingertip firmly over it. There was no embossed security stamp, nothing to prove it was real. The paper was cheap and flimsy.

Four years ago, when we got the certificate, Edward had his assistant take my driver's license and handle everything behind my back.

In the back seat of the Maybach, he wrapped his arms around me and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head. "Charlotte, I'll give you a home."

I went back to WhatsApp and zoomed in on the wedding photo.

On Edward's left ring finger, while he fixed Vivian's veil, there was a plain band. I had chosen that ring myself last month.

He'd barely come home at all these past two weeks. Every time he returned with a strange perfume lingering on him, his assistant would deliver some designer jewelry the next day.

He said it was business networking, afraid I'd read too much into it.

I kept telling myself those diamonds meant he was fighting for our future.

Until today, that fake marriage certificate, riddled with flaws, along with the records online, completely shattered the illusion I'd been living in for four years.

The home he once promised me was never real.

My throat was dry.

Not a single tear came to my eyes.

I locked my gaze on the certificate, the one without the security stamp.

I pressed the voice message button. I kept my voice steady. "Stella, I never got married."