My Husband’s Real Wife

The art gallery account under my name was flagged for laundering money for the Valeriano family, and federal agents showed up at my door.

And the anonymous tip pointed directly to my husband.

I tried to plead my case, telling them I was Alessio Valeriano's wife, but the agent simply shook his head.

"Ma'am, the system shows your marital status as unmarried."

In disbelief, I demanded he check again. He offered a sympathetic look, but the information on the computer screen was cold and unmistakable: "The records show that Alessio Valeriano's legal spouse is Bianca De Luca, and they have a three-year-old son. Ma'am, if you can't provide evidence to clear your name, you will be facing felony charges."

In that instant, my world fell apart.

My mind flashed back six years to Bianca—the orphan daughter of one of Alessio’s late, loyal soldati, a girl who had been hopelessly in love with him.

On the day of our secret wedding, she made a spectacle of herself, even threatening suicide. He had to leave for three days to deal with her before he finally returned home.

And his so-called solution was to marry Bianca.

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1

The family lawyer secured my release on bail. I decided to confront Alessio face-to-face.

I remembered that day six years ago when Bianca De Luca threatened to take her own life. Alessio Valeriano had adamantly refused to see her, insisting on completing our wedding.

I can still hear his bone-chilling tone. "If she wants to die, let her. Who does she think she is? Is she really worth me abandoning you?"

No matter how many of the family elders tried to persuade him, he didn't budge. It was only when I said I didn't want our wedding stained with blood that he reluctantly left.

Alessio was gone for three days. I was naive enough to believe he was just comforting a desperate girl.

But now, that jarring photo of a family of three from the FBI file showed me just how foolish I had been.

The way his eyes reddened when I had my miscarriage, those pained embraces... were they all lies, too?

Once the Valeriano family lawyer finalized the terms of my release, I walked out of the federal building in a daze, feeling the agents' suspicious eyes on my back.

I wouldn't believe it until I heard the words from his own lips. The man I had shared my life with for six years couldn't have married someone else.

The car that picked me up stopped at the Valeriano estate. Tonight was the family's Saint's Day feast, and I arrived as planned.

The moment I stepped into the foyer, something cold and hard pressed against my side. I suppressed a shudder and glanced down.

A little boy I'd never seen before was waving a realistic-looking toy gun at me. "You bad woman!" he chirped triumphantly. "I'm gonna get rid of you for my Mamma!"

He aimed the gun at me again, but I was in a hurry to find Alessio for answers, so I brushed him off. I scanned the living room, found it empty, and headed deeper into the estate.

As I passed a study on the second floor, I heard the voice of Alessio's sister, Giuliana Valeriano.

I froze, instinctively holding my breath as I pressed my ear to the door. The answer from within made my nails dig deep into my palms.

"In Seraphina's eyes, there will always be a piece of art more important than me."

Alessio's voice was laced with self-mockery. "But Bianca is different. She's so fragile she'd even kill herself for me."

"Giuliana, I can't betray the woman who gave me an heir. She's not calm and strong like Seraphina. She can't live without me."

The voice that once whispered sweet nothings in the dark was now a blade twisting in my heart.

"Seraphina had a miscarriage because a rival family attacked her while she was protecting you. How could you betray her like this? You ran off to be with Bianca when she needed you most!"

So that was it. My miscarriage had just given him an excuse to spend more time with Bianca. I fought back tears, forcing myself to keep listening.

Giuliana's voice grew sharp with accusation.

"If she hadn't forged those photos of Seraphina talking to a rival at an art exhibit and sent them to Seraphina's mother, Elena Rossi, calling it 'proof' of collaboration... how could her mother have..."

Before she could finish, Alessio cut her off.

His tone was impatient, utterly unconcerned.

"How many times do I have to explain this? Bianca is an orphan; she never knew a mother's love. She just thought that if Seraphina were gone, Elena would treat her like a daughter."

"I've already been giving her the cold shoulder for two months, and her anxiety is getting worse. What more do you want? For me to drive her to suicide?"

In that instant, my legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor.

I had always believed my mother's death was my fault, a consequence of my own negligence. My art restoration project was at a critical stage, and I had spent nearly all my time in the studio.

I lived with that guilt for four long years, and for those same four years, the man by my side watched me suffer. All while he secretly had a child with the person who had driven my mother to her death.