My Husband Had Two Anniversaries… And I Was Neither

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was supposed to leave the country to present my breakthrough nerve-interface design at an international medical competition. Instead, I ended up standing in a cold office, holding a form like it meant anything.

I checked the details out of habit and then I frowned.

“Um… excuse me? Your record’s wrong. I’m married. Not divorced.”

The woman behind the glass barely looked up at first. Just clicked her mouse, bored, like my life was just another file.

Married. I was married.

Felix Gallardo wasn’t just my husband. He was… everything. A monster to the world, a king in the shadows, a man people whispered about like saying his name too loud might get them killed. A mafia boss who could burn cities down if he felt like it.

And mine.

Possessive didn’t even begin to cover it. Felix didn’t let go of things that belonged to him. And I belonged to him.

Even if I wanted to leave… he wouldn’t let me. So how the hell could I be divorced?

The staff checked again. Then again.

And then she looked at me like I was the crazy one.

“It’s correct,” she said flatly. “You and Mr. Gallardo divorced four years ago. That same day, he remarried. Why? Did you just bump into a wall or something? Women these days. Tsk.”

My chest tightened.

“T-that’s not possible. You’re making a mistake.”

She shook her head and raised her brow. “No mistake. His current wife is Shannon Eastman. Do you know her?”

Do I know her?

I think something inside me just… snapped.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I know her.”

God, I knew her too well.

Seven years ago, she tried to ruin my wedding. Screaming, crying, throwing herself at Felix like a lunatic. He didn’t even blink. Just told his men, “Get this bitch out of my sight.” Twenty bodyguards dragged her away while I stood there shaking in my dress.

Four years ago, she broke into his office and stripped naked on his desk. Said she’d do anything for him. Anything.

Felix didn’t even look at her. Just picked up the phone and said, “Police. Now. There’s a fucking problem in my office.”

She got locked up for fifty days.

Five years ago…

My hand started aching like it remembered before I did. She came into my office like a storm. No warning. No logic. Just rage.

I didn’t even have time to react before she grabbed the axe on her bag and chopped off my right hand like I was nothing. I screamed in pain.

When Felix found out, he lost it.

I had never seen him like that. His eyes were red, his whole body shaking with rage.

“I’m gonna fucking kill her! I swear to God, Danica, I’ll tear her apart piece by piece!”

I was bleeding. Dying. And I still grabbed him. “Felix… don’t,” I begged. “Please… don’t do it.”

He looked at me like he didn’t understand why I was stopping him but he listened.

He always listened to me.

Instead of killing her, he locked her up. Somewhere no one could find. And every day, he made sure she paid for what she did.

“Anyone who touches you,” he told me once, holding my face so gently it hurt, “I’ll make them wish they were dead. I’ll make them suffer a thousand times worse.”

That was Felix Gallardo.

Cruel. Violent. Unforgiving.

But never to me. Never.

So how… how could he marry her on the same day she destroyed me?

My phone buzzed in my hand. I stared at the screen for a long second before opening it.

[Danica, it’s our Seventh anniversary today. I’ll be back tonight. Still dealing with that crazy bitch. She won’t last much longer. Don’t wait up, I’ll wake you myself.]

Another message came right after.

[I love you.]

My throat tightened.

He always said that.

Every message. Every call. Every time he looked at me like I was the only thing in his world.

I love you.

Back then, I was just… nobody. A struggling surgeon, barely getting by. And him… he was untouchable. Rich, powerful, dangerous.

And he chose me.

He chased me like I was something precious. Flew across countries just to see me for a few hours. Bought out entire streets just to light fireworks for me. Sent me flowers so rare I couldn’t even pronounce their names.

When I got sick, he dropped everything and came back just to cook for me himself, cursing the whole time because he didn’t know how to hold a spoon properly.

“Eat,” he’d grumble, shoving the bowl toward me. “I didn’t fucking fly ten hours for you to starve.”

When I was upset, he’d pause meetings with men who could ruin lives with a word.

“Wait,” he’d say, holding up a hand. Then he’d call me. “What’s wrong? Who pissed you off? Tell me their name, I'll burn them to hell.”

And when someone threw acid at me out of jealousy, he didn’t hesitate. He stepped in front of me like it was instinct.

His back got burned. Blood everywhere.

And he just held me and whispered, “Hey… hey, don’t cry. I got you. You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

So tell me… Was all of that fake? Was I just… stupid?

I didn’t even realize I had already gotten into a taxi.

“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked.

I hesitated for half a second.

Then I said it.

“Sun Valley.”

The place where Felix kept Shannon. My hands clenched in my lap.

If she was his wife… Then who the hell was I?