She Believed a Pretender, But Forgot Her True Husband

Veronica was silent, but her face showed none of the relief I had imagined. After a long while, she finally spoke, as if delivering a heavy decision.

“Stop it. If you keep wearing white clothes like before, I won’t mistake you. I won’t divorce you.”

“Really?” I forced a smile, lifting my head to look at her.

She had already forgotten what document she accepted from me that morning. I had only worn a wig and changed my clothes, and Veronica thought I was the new secretary.

Without even glancing, she signed the divorce papers and even had me tidy up the safe in her study.

Inside, I found a photo of Enzo carefully cut from yesterday’s magazine. The safe was filled with countless reports about him, marked in red, in blue, in black.

No matter how Enzo dressed, Veronica could recognize him.

The oldest photo showed Enzo still in high school, wearing a white shirt with his hair cropped short, the very same image I had carried with me for three years.

As I stood in a daze, Veronica grabbed my hand. “Lincoln, I won’t lose you again.”

I curled my lips in a bitter smile, just about to open my mouth and tell her everything, but suddenly she shoved me aside and ran in another direction.

I followed her gaze and saw Enzo’s back disappearing into the crowd. Halfway there, Veronica seemed to remember something.

She turned back and shouted, “Lincoln, wait for me, I’ll be right back.”

But her words were thrown toward another man beside me, dressed in the same gray-green suit.

Without hesitation, I turned and left. Veronica grew furious when she realized I had gone on my own, but that day, I was only sitting in a nearby café, discussing paperwork for a new identity. The whole afternoon until nightfall, Veronica never returned.

I ignored her because once I changed my clothes, I became invisible in her eyes. When the overseas procedures were finished, the first thing I did was go to the mall and buy new clothes.

For years, just to make Veronica notice me more, my closet had been filled only with white, like a walking mourning hall, but now even a single glance at it made me sick.

The sales clerk eagerly brought out a light blue suit, and just as I was about to swipe my card, a cold voice cut in.

“I want this one too.”

I turned my head and saw Enzo’s arrogant face. He looked me over with contempt.

“Lincoln, what are you still struggling for? Didn’t the airport incident make it clear enough?”

He sneered. “Veronica doesn’t love you. No matter how expensive the clothes you buy, she’ll still treat you like air.”

I didn’t bother wasting words on him. Instead, I took out a black card from my wallet and handed it to the clerk.

“Wrap up this one he touched, and all the pieces from this series, for me. And also, show him out.”

The clerk immediately moved to ask him to leave, but just then Veronica appeared, walking straight toward Enzo without sparing me a single glance.

“Wrap up the clothes and give them to Mr. Lynch.”

The clerk froze and whispered a reminder, “President Vargas, but this gentleman is your…”

I had grown a beard and worn a striking gold-gray perm, so of course, Veronica didn’t recognize me.

“What is he, anyway?” Veronica’s voice wasn’t loud, but every word carried clearly across the counter. “Some nobody from who-knows-where, thinking he can compete with Veronica for anything?”

She turned to the sales clerk, whose face had already gone pale, her tone cold with unquestionable authority.