Chapter 1 · The Fake Marriage

The day Jordan Holland personally saw me off at the airport, he said, "Come back, and we'll make things right."

What he didn't know was that I never boarded a flight to Nordland.

And what he also didn't know was that, in the very same hour he walked into the civil hall to register his marriage with another woman, a 250-million-dollar divestment notice landed on his desk.

He had no idea that money was mine.

*****

Three years into our marriage, while Jordan was out on the balcony taking a call, I caught a glimpse of his phone screen lying on the coffee table.

An unread message popped up. [Jordan, I'm back. These three years have been rough. I couldn't stop thinking about you every single day.]

Another message followed right after. [I've got a blind date tomorrow, but before that, I just want to see you once. Will you come? I'll be at our usual spot, but I'll only wait for thirty minutes.]

The sender's contact name was a white camellia.

There was no actual name, but I knew that avatar.

It was Phoebe Goodwin.

She was his junior back in college, the one he always said he'd stopped talking to ages ago.

The balcony door opened, and Jordan strode in. He glanced at his phone, grabbed his car keys, and headed straight out.

I called out, "Where are you going?"

My voice was steadier than I expected.

He paused, but didn't turn around.

"Something urgent at the office. You should get some rest," he said.

The door clicked shut softly, as if he was afraid of waking someone.

But I caught every bit of it.

I stood there, staring at the closed door, those two messages replaying in my mind over and over. [I couldn't stop thinking about you every single day.]

[I'll only wait for thirty minutes.]

She said she'd only wait thirty minutes, and he rushed out without a second thought.

Jordan and I had been together since we were kids.

When he was four, he moved in next door. On his very first day, he hopped the fence, handed me a piece of candy, and said, "You're my girl from now on."

When we were fourteen, he grabbed my hand in the school hallway, right in front of everyone, and declared, "She's mine. Nobody gets to bully her."

On the day I turned eighteen, he gave me a ring up on the rooftop and said, "When I've got enough cash, I'll marry you."

Everyone said my biggest stroke of luck was being loved by Jordan.

I used to think so too.

That changed in my junior year, when he brought up someone else's name. "Phoebe helped me sort out the project files today. She's crazy efficient."

"Phoebe suggested a movie, and I bet you'd like it too."

"Phoebe says the honey cake from her hometown is incredible. Next time, I'll bring you some to try."

At first, I didn't think much of it.

But then I noticed his chat history with her was even longer than ours. He never missed a chance to like her Instagram posts, and he even remembered every little restaurant she mentioned wanting to try.

When I pressed Jordan about it, he shrugged and said, "You're reading too much into things."

When I told him to stop hanging out with Phoebe so much, he shot back, "You're being ridiculous."

I completely lost it and started sobbing. Jordan stood there in silence for ages, then finally said, "Alright, I'll keep my distance from her."

After graduation, he started his own business, and I was right there with him, starting from nothing together. He truly never brought up Phoebe again.

I thought that chapter was closed.

Our wedding went smoothly, the room was full of guests, and everyone showered us with blessings.

After we got married, Jordan turned into someone I barely recognized.

He stopped holding my hand, forgot our anniversaries, and worked late more and more, coming home later every night.

Sometimes, I'd wake up in the middle of the night and find him sitting in the study, just staring at a blank computer screen.

When I asked what was wrong, he told me he was tired.

I thought it was work stress.

I thought if I gave him time, everything would eventually get better.

But tonight, seeing him leave without a single glance back, I finally understood something.

He came home, but his heart was never really here.

The woman he claimed he'd cut ties with wasn't really gone. She just slipped behind the scenes, out of sight but never out of mind.

And me? I was the sign he used to fool himself into thinking his life was back to normal.

I spent the whole night on the couch.

As the sun came up, I picked up my phone and looked up the divorce process.

The clerk at the registry office spent ages searching through the system, then looked up at me with a puzzled look.

"Ms. Sargent, there's no record of your marriage to Mr. Jordan anywhere in the system," she said.

I was confused.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It means you two never actually registered your marriage at any registry office. That marriage certificate in your hand..."

Chapter 1

The day Jordan Holland personally saw me off at the airport, he said, "Come back, and we'll make things right."

What he didn't know was that I never boarded a flight to Nordland.

And what he also didn't know was that, in the very same hour he walked into the civil hall to register his marriage with another woman, a 250-million-dollar divestment notice landed on his desk.

He had no idea that money was mine.

*****

Three years into our marriage, while Jordan was out on the balcony taking a call, I caught a glimpse of his phone screen lying on the coffee table.

An unread message popped up. [Jordan, I'm back. These three years have been rough. I couldn't stop thinking about you every single day.]

Another message followed right after. [I've got a blind date tomorrow, but before that, I just want to see you once. Will you come? I'll be at our usual spot, but I'll only wait for thirty minutes.]

The sender's contact name was a white camellia.

There was no actual name, but I knew that avatar.

It was Phoebe Goodwin.

She was his junior back in college, the one he always said he'd stopped talking to ages ago.

The balcony door opened, and Jordan strode in. He glanced at his phone, grabbed his car keys, and headed straight out.

I called out, "Where are you going?"

My voice was steadier than I expected.

He paused, but didn't turn around.

"Something urgent at the office. You should get some rest," he said.

The door clicked shut softly, as if he was afraid of waking someone.

But I caught every bit of it.

I stood there, staring at the closed door, those two messages replaying in my mind over and over. [I couldn't stop thinking about you every single day.]

[I'll only wait for thirty minutes.]

She said she'd only wait thirty minutes, and he rushed out without a second thought.

Jordan and I had been together since we were kids.

When he was four, he moved in next door. On his very first day, he hopped the fence, handed me a piece of candy, and said, "You're my girl from now on."

When we were fourteen, he grabbed my hand in the school hallway, right in front of everyone, and declared, "She's mine. Nobody gets to bully her."

On the day I turned eighteen, he gave me a ring up on the rooftop and said, "When I've got enough cash, I'll marry you."

Everyone said my biggest stroke of luck was being loved by Jordan.

I used to think so too.

That changed in my junior year, when he brought up someone else's name. "Phoebe helped me sort out the project files today. She's crazy efficient."

"Phoebe suggested a movie, and I bet you'd like it too."

"Phoebe says the honey cake from her hometown is incredible. Next time, I'll bring you some to try."

At first, I didn't think much of it.

When I pressed Jordan about it, he shrugged and said, "You're reading too much into things."

When I told him to stop hanging out with Phoebe so much, he shot back, "You're being ridiculous."

I completely lost it and started sobbing. Jordan stood there in silence for ages, then finally said, "Alright, I'll keep my distance from her."

After graduation, he started his own business, and I was right there with him, starting from nothing together. He truly never brought up Phoebe again.

I thought that chapter was closed.

Our wedding went smoothly, the room was full of guests, and everyone showered us with blessings.

After we got married, Jordan turned into someone I barely recognized.

He stopped holding my hand, forgot our anniversaries, and worked late more and more, coming home later every night.

Sometimes, I'd wake up in the middle of the night and find him sitting in the study, just staring at a blank computer screen.

When I asked what was wrong, he told me he was tired.

I thought it was work stress.

I thought if I gave him time, everything would eventually get better.

But tonight, seeing him leave without a single glance back, I finally understood something.

He came home, but his heart was never really here.

The woman he claimed he'd cut ties with wasn't really gone. She just slipped behind the scenes, out of sight but never out of mind.

And me? I was the sign he used to fool himself into thinking his life was back to normal.

I spent the whole night on the couch.

As the sun came up, I picked up my phone and looked up the divorce process.

The clerk at the registry office spent ages searching through the system, then looked up at me with a puzzled look.

"Ms. Sargent, there's no record of your marriage to Mr. Jordan anywhere in the system," she said.

I was confused.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It means you two never actually registered your marriage at any registry office. That marriage certificate in your hand..."