My Husband Crashed My Second Wedding

I looked at him, and for a moment, the storm inside me flatlined. “What are you planning to do—force me? Show me you’re not as rotten as that other guy? Or just hoping to see which one of us is more shameless, Marina or me?”

He froze mid-step, that barb landing deeper than I expected. The faintest flicker of pain crossed his eyes before he turned, wrenched the door open, and slammed it so hard the walls shook. He was gone.

Half an hour later, another photo buzzed through my phone: Marina and Caspian, tangled in the kind of aftermath that left no room for interpretation.

“Still breathing, old lady?” she texted. “We just had the ride of a lifetime. Seriously, why don’t you crawl off and die already? You’re like a hen that’s never laid an egg—completely useless.”

“Caspian says you’re dead weight in bed, literally like a corpse. Your skin? Tree bark. He tells me he has to fight back a gag every time he’s forced to touch you.”

I blocked her number without a word.

My father called an hour later, his voice brisk. “Christina, your flight is for the day after tomorrow. Your fiancé will be waiting at arrivals. It’s been years—you’re going to spend your lives together, so make the effort to reconnect.”

“Fine,” I said, and I was proud of how steady I sounded.

Late that night, though, the nausea rose again out of nowhere. I ended up bent over the toilet, heaving until the bathroom swam in circles around me.

The next morning, Caspian dragged me to the Snyder estate for his mother’s sixtieth birthday. A lavish party was already in full swing—and Marina was strutting through the rooms like she was lady of the manor.

I shot Caspian a look, ice dripping from every word. “Was this part of your little plan? If she’s the one you want, why the hell am I here?”

I started to leave, but his fingers locked around my wrist. “Marina is going through prenatal depression. You wouldn’t know anything about that because you’re not pregnant. She deserves some space. And honestly, my mother has been dreaming of a grandchild for ten years. She deserves to be happy.”

I laughed out loud, the sound harsh and broken. “Oh, so you want a child—but since I can’t give you one, nobody else can either? Do you even hear yourself? Stop being such a selfish, spiteful jackass.”

His mother appeared, arm wrapped possessively around Marina, and cast a look over me like something stuck to her shoe. Clearly she’d forgotten it was me—her daughter-in-law—who had cared for her around the clock when Caspian was too swamped with work to bother.

Around us, the whispers picked up, deliberately loud.

“She’s a walking divorce case! One step away from being tossed out onto the street!”

“What does she even have to be proud of? Dressed like a scarecrow, no charm, no style. Marina outshines her on every level.”

“Look at that necklace around Marina’s neck—that must be worth a small fortune!”

I flinched. My gaze found the chain Marina wore, a delicate silver pendant catching the light. That necklace... I knew it as well as my own heartbeat. It was my mother’s. She’d always told me that around my neck, it kept her close.

I had kept it safe through all those years. So how was it wrapped around Marina’s throat now?

“Marina.” My voice cut through the chatter. “What are you doing with that? Give it back right now.”

Marina turned, her smile slithering across her face. “This thing?” She fingered the pendant, gloating. “Caspian gave it to me. I just asked, and he handed it over without a second thought.”

I whipped around to face him. “Caspian. You gave my mother’s heirloom to her?” My throat tightened. “You know perfectly well—” The words cracked, and my mind went spinning back: to my father’s endless parade of women, each one bolder than the last; to my mother standing on that eighteenth-floor ledge, choosing to fall rather than stay; and to the years of hating that suffocating house. Caspian was supposed to be my escape. I ran to him with both arms open, convinced he could give me a fresh start. But all he taught me was the same lesson: all men are the same.

Caspian’s lips curled, his gaze stone-cold. “Marina isn’t just someone I’m having fun with. Is this how you plan to beg? If you want the necklace back, apologize—properly.”

“Apologize to that snake?” Heat flooded my veins. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

Marina sauntered closer, her smile turning cruel. “Christina, sweetheart, I heard your mother was literally driven to her death by a mistress. And look at you—worthless, exactly like her. Why don’t you do the world a favor and go jump off a building?”

I couldn’t breathe. My lips trembled as I looked at Caspian, but he didn’t even blink. He’d shared the most broken, most secret piece of my history with her. And he was standing there like it meant nothing to him.

“How can you be this vile?” I hissed. Then I drew my hand back and slapped Marina across the face so hard my palm stung. “You thieving parasite! You can’t keep your hands off what belongs to other people—why don’t you go rob a bank?”

Marina shrieked, collapsing to the floor in a pile of fake tears. “Caspian! She’s lost her mind! She actually hit me!”

Caspian’s face darkened into pure fury. He grabbed me and shoved me down, so hard the marble bit into my palms. “Christina, if you’re going to lose your goddamn mind, do it at home—not in my mother’s house.”