Chapter 1 · Seven Years Of Lies

Marvin gave me seven years of marriage, a bogus marriage certificate, and told me it was "no big deal."

While cleaning the study, I bumped into a hidden door and found out his real wife was my half-sister, Mabel.

Three years ago, he got me drunk, tricked me into signing the divorce papers, and went straight to city hall with her.

Mabel moved into my house and said, "Thanks for looking after Marvin all these years."

Marvin wrapped his arm around her and scolded me, "You really ought to learn what it means to be understanding."

Mabel slashed herself with a knife, shrieking that I was trying to kill her. Marvin shoved me to the floor, even though I was pregnant.

Lying in the hospital bed, I watched Marvin as he said, "This child has nothing to do with you. We divorced a long time ago, didn't we?"

*****

I was crouched on the floor, scrubbing the baseboards, when my right elbow hit a bump on the side of the bookshelf.

With a click, the wall next to the bookshelf sank inward, opening up a narrow crack.

I froze.

I'd been cleaning this study for seven years and never realized there was a secret door here.

Marvin Nordon always told me not to touch that wall, claiming it was a load-bearing structure and I shouldn't mess with it. I believed him for seven years.

A musty, long-stale odor drifted out from the crack. I hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open.

Inside was a tiny room. It was barely bigger than a closet, with no windows and paintings covering every inch of the walls. I didn't even have time to look at the artwork. My gaze was drawn straight to the floor.

A marriage certificate lay open by the foot of the table.

I bent down and picked it up.

It said, "Date of registration: July 15, 2023. Husband's name: Marvin Nordon."

The wife's name and photo were smeared with a huge blot of ink. I couldn't make out a thing.

My hand started to tremble as I held the certificate.

The date on my marriage certificate with Marvin was June 22, 2019, and I kept it in a drawer of the nightstand.

Two certificates. Two dates. So which one was real?

I slipped the new certificate into my bag, then went back to the bedroom to get mine from the nightstand. Placing them side by side, I could see that the cover material, the embossed seal, and the thickness of the paper were all a bit different.

I told myself not to overthink it. Maybe it was just a replacement, maybe there was some logical reason behind it.

But I still grabbed my bag and headed straight to the city hall.

After waiting in line for forty minutes, I handed both certificates to the clerk at the city hall window.

"Could you check which one of these is actually real?" I asked.

The clerk, a woman in her thirties, took them, flipped through both, and quickly slid one back to me.

It was my certificate.

"This one's obviously fake. The paper's all wrong, the seal's off. It looks like something a kid would use for playing house," she said casually, like it was some kind of joke.

I stared at the certificate she slid back to me, my head spinning.

June 22, 2019.

That day, Marvin wore a white shirt and spent the last of his startup savings to book us a candlelit dinner at a high-end restaurant by the river.

On the way home, a scooter suddenly sped toward us. He grabbed my arm, pulled me behind him, and ended up badly skinning his forearm.

Clutching his arm, Marvin smiled and said, "Joyce, you're my wife now. I have to protect you."

Those memories were as clear as if they'd happened yesterday.

So how could it be fake?

"What about this one?" I pointed at another certificate. My voice was so hoarse it barely sounded like myself.

The clerk glanced at her computer. "This one's real. Everything checks out."

"Who... who is the wife?" I stammered.

"The name's smudged, but I can look it up for you," the clerk said, tapping away at her keyboard. "Husband: Marvin Nordon. Wife: Mabel Sampson. Registered on July 15, 2023."

Mabel Sampson. The name hit me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

She was my half-sister from the same father. The illegitimate child. The one who laughed at my mother's funeral and said, "She should've died sooner." The one who lost my mother's ashes.

Marvin's legal wife was Mabel.

I gripped the windowsill to steady myself, my nails biting into my skin.

"What about me?" My voice shook as I spoke. "Joyce Sampson. Can you look up my marriage status for me?"

The clerk typed in my ID number, glanced at the screen, and her expression changed, looking a bit complicated.

"Your status is divorced," she said.

"When?" I asked.

The clerk replied, "Three years ago, April 2022. The divorce certificate was already issued."

Three years ago. April 2022.

That month, my mom had just died, and Mabel had lost her ashes. I was so out of it I could hardly eat. Marvin stayed with me every day, encouraging me to drink, saying it would help me sleep.

Chapter 1

Marvin gave me seven years of marriage, a bogus marriage certificate, and told me it was "no big deal."

While cleaning the study, I bumped into a hidden door and found out his real wife was my half-sister, Mabel.

Three years ago, he got me drunk, tricked me into signing the divorce papers, and went straight to city hall with her.

Mabel moved into my house and said, "Thanks for looking after Marvin all these years."

Marvin wrapped his arm around her and scolded me, "You really ought to learn what it means to be understanding."

Mabel slashed herself with a knife, shrieking that I was trying to kill her. Marvin shoved me to the floor, even though I was pregnant.

Lying in the hospital bed, I watched Marvin as he said, "This child has nothing to do with you. We divorced a long time ago, didn't we?"

*****

I was crouched on the floor, scrubbing the baseboards, when my right elbow hit a bump on the side of the bookshelf.

With a click, the wall next to the bookshelf sank inward, opening up a narrow crack.

I froze.

I'd been cleaning this study for seven years and never realized there was a secret door here.

Marvin Nordon always told me not to touch that wall, claiming it was a load-bearing structure and I shouldn't mess with it. I believed him for seven years.

A musty, long-stale odor drifted out from the crack. I hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open.

A marriage certificate lay open by the foot of the table.

I bent down and picked it up.

It said, "Date of registration: July 15, 2023. Husband's name: Marvin Nordon."

The wife's name and photo were smeared with a huge blot of ink. I couldn't make out a thing.

My hand started to tremble as I held the certificate.

The date on my marriage certificate with Marvin was June 22, 2019, and I kept it in a drawer of the nightstand.

Two certificates. Two dates. So which one was real?

I told myself not to overthink it. Maybe it was just a replacement, maybe there was some logical reason behind it.

But I still grabbed my bag and headed straight to the city hall.

After waiting in line for forty minutes, I handed both certificates to the clerk at the city hall window.

"Could you check which one of these is actually real?" I asked.

The clerk, a woman in her thirties, took them, flipped through both, and quickly slid one back to me.

It was my certificate.

"This one's obviously fake. The paper's all wrong, the seal's off. It looks like something a kid would use for playing house," she said casually, like it was some kind of joke.

I stared at the certificate she slid back to me, my head spinning.

June 22, 2019.

That day, Marvin wore a white shirt and spent the last of his startup savings to book us a candlelit dinner at a high-end restaurant by the river.

On the way home, a scooter suddenly sped toward us. He grabbed my arm, pulled me behind him, and ended up badly skinning his forearm.

Clutching his arm, Marvin smiled and said, "Joyce, you're my wife now. I have to protect you."

Those memories were as clear as if they'd happened yesterday.

So how could it be fake?

"What about this one?" I pointed at another certificate. My voice was so hoarse it barely sounded like myself.

The clerk glanced at her computer. "This one's real. Everything checks out."

"Who... who is the wife?" I stammered.

"The name's smudged, but I can look it up for you," the clerk said, tapping away at her keyboard. "Husband: Marvin Nordon. Wife: Mabel Sampson. Registered on July 15, 2023."

Mabel Sampson. The name hit me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

She was my half-sister from the same father. The illegitimate child. The one who laughed at my mother's funeral and said, "She should've died sooner." The one who lost my mother's ashes.

Marvin's legal wife was Mabel.

I gripped the windowsill to steady myself, my nails biting into my skin.

"What about me?" My voice shook as I spoke. "Joyce Sampson. Can you look up my marriage status for me?"

The clerk typed in my ID number, glanced at the screen, and her expression changed, looking a bit complicated.

"Your status is divorced," she said.

"When?" I asked.

The clerk replied, "Three years ago, April 2022. The divorce certificate was already issued."

Three years ago. April 2022.

That month, my mom had just died, and Mabel had lost her ashes. I was so out of it I could hardly eat. Marvin stayed with me every day, encouraging me to drink, saying it would help me sleep.