My Husband was Secretly Married to another Woman

I just wanted a damn reprint. My marriage certificate. I wasn’t expecting my whole world to fall apart at the city registrar’s office.

Lately, the whispers had been getting louder.

Online forums, dinner parties, even a tabloid article: “Is Xandria Peter the Real Mrs. Colombo?”

At first, I laughed. Brushed it off. People love to make things up when you’re in the spotlight.

But when I started applying for dual citizenship—something Timothy and I had talked about for months—I figured it was time to put the rumors to rest. Get my head on straight. Just show the damn paper, get it certified, move on.

Instead?

The woman behind the glass looked uncomfortable as hell, but she still said it like she was reading a weather report:

“Ms. Riccardo… there’s no legal record of your marriage. The certificate you have is forged.”

I blinked. “I—I’m sorry, what?”

She didn’t even look up. “Mr. Timothy Colombo is legally married… just not to you.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “Then who is he married to?”

She tapped a few keys and slid a printed document through the slot like it was just another piece of paper. “Xandria Peter.”

Boom. Just like that.

The name hit me like a gut punch. I stumbled back a step, grabbing the edge of the counter like it could keep me upright.

Xandria. Timothy’s first love. The woman who ran off with another man and wrecked him—supposedly. And now she’s his wife?

I stared at the fake marriage certificate in my purse like it might bite me. For five years, I thought I was Mrs. Timothy Colombo. Five years of charity galas, strategic board meetings, mafia wives tipping their glasses to me like I was one of them.

Turns out I was just… what? A decoy?

A tool?

I walked home like a ghost, the sound of my heels echoing like distant thunder across the pavement.

When I reached the front door of the estate, I froze.

Voices.

I didn’t mean to stop. I didn’t mean to listen.

But their voices froze me in place, just on the other side of the study’s half-open door.

Timothy.

My mother-in-law, Mira.

And—what the hell—my lawyer.

“…Charlene still believes she’s legally married to you,” said Renze, our consigliere. Loyal. Calculating. Smarter than most.

“Charlene was never supposed to be permanent.”

That was Timothy. Calm. Cold. Almost bored.

“She was... convenient. She had money. She was obsessed with me. It was easy.”

“She gave you control of all three companies,” my lawyer said—my lawyer, fuck.

“You own Riccardo Trading, Salt & Silk Holdings, and Blue Peak Estates now. That wouldn’t have been possible without her signature as your legal spouse—fake or not.”

“Exactly,” Timothy muttered. “She trusted too fast. Fell too hard. That was always her problem.”

My mother-in-law scoffed. “She’s emotional. Weak. Always needing reassurance. A real wife doesn’t act like that. Xandria—she’s different. She knows when to stay quiet. She knows her place.”

Timothy laughed under his breath. “She acts like she’s owed something just because she loved you,” my mother-in-law added, mocking the word loved. “She has no pedigree. No sense of legacy. She ran her businesses like passion projects.”

“And Xandria?” the lawyer asked.

Timothy didn’t even pause.

“Xandria understands power. She doesn’t ask for love. She plays the long game. She gave me a son, for God’s sake. Elio carries my blood.”

“Elio will inherit everything,” my mother-in-law said like it was already written in some will.

And Timothy?

He sealed it with a shrug.

“Charlene gave me access. Xandria gave me lineage.”

---

I don’t know how long I stood there. Heart in my throat. Legs numb. Every word felt like a slap I hadn’t earned.

Convenient.

Weak.

Embarrassed him.

Gave him access.

I thought I was his wife.

I was just step one in a plan I never saw coming.

I staggered back a step and collapsed onto the stone steps, my knees smashing hard enough to tear skin. I didn’t feel the pain. I felt like I was drowning.

The door flung open. Timothy was there in seconds, scooping me up like he still gave a damn.

“Charlene!” His voice was sharp now. Urgent. “What happened?”

He laid me gently on the sofa, hand brushing hair from my face like I was made of glass. I looked up at him—this man I had loved. Slept beside. Fought for.

Was any of it real?

“Are you dizzy?” he asked, voice too soft, too careful.

I swallowed hard, pretending to be dazed. “Y-yeah. Heatstroke, maybe. Sun hit me hard.”

He exhaled. He turned to the driver. “You let her walk home? In this heat?” His tone shifted—sharp, dangerous. The kind of voice that made men disappear. "Go get your final paycheck.”

“Stop,” I croaked. “I told him I wanted to walk. I needed the air.”

Timothy knelt, inspecting the blood on my knees, then… he blew on it gently. Like we were still some fairytale couple.

“You’re too soft, Charlene. Always have been.”

I stared at him.

Five years. Five years of his lies wrapped in silk.

Still… part of me didn’t want to believe it. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe there was a mix-up. Maybe the City Hall was hacked. So I played my last card.

“Our marriage certificate’s gone. Should we… go refile?”

He paused. Just for a second. A flicker in his eyes. Not shock. Fear.

Then it was gone.

He stood, adjusting the cufflinks on his custom suit like nothing happened. “You don’t need to worry about that. Renze will take care of it. You just rest.”

The door clicked open again. Of course.

His mother breezed in, expensive perfume clinging to her like entitlement. “Goodness, what happened to her?”