When My Husband Chose His Real Wife

I kept a digital scan of our marriage certificate on my phone. Noel had brought the original home five years ago in an embossed leather folder. I had never thought to verify it. Why would I? I loved him.

I handed my phone to the older officer.

Kyla reached into her handbag. She didn't look worried at all. In fact, a faint, knowing smirk played at the corner of her lips. She pulled out a crisp, folded piece of paper with an official city stamp and passed it over.

The two officers stepped into the atelier's private office to run the registration numbers through the state database.

The room was dead silent.

The grandfather clock by the entrance ticked four times. Every second felt like a drop of cold water on raw skin. Four minutes. That was all it took.

The door opened. The older officer walked out. He wasn't looking at Kyla. He was looking at me, his eyes heavy with awkward pity.

He handed my phone back.

"Ms. Edwards," he said gently. "Your document is not in the New York state registry. The clerk's seal is counterfeit. The filing number is completely blank in the system. It's a forgery."

The words hit the air like dry ice.

"What?" Briella gasped. Her voice broke. She reached toward me, her face ghostly pale. "No. That's impossible. Vivi, tell him!"

The officer turned to Kyla. "Ms. Peterson's certificate is authentic. It was legally filed and registered three years ago in Queens. As far as the law is concerned, she is Noel Sanchez's only legal wife."

My chest went completely numb.

Five years. The late-night elopement. The promises he made while I worked eighteen-hour days preparing for Fashion Week. *Don't worry about the paperwork, baby. I'll file it with the city clerk myself. Just focus on your gowns.*

He had never filed it. He had handed me a fake piece of paper, smiled in my face, and built a real life with someone else.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I didn't faint.

I stood in the center of my ruined boutique, perfectly still. My spine remained rigid. The world around me detonated, but my hands did not shake.

Slowly, I reached down and picked up my ruined handbag from the floor. The calfskin was torn where Kyla had ground her heel into it. I took the ripped leather strap between my fingers. I smoothed it out. I lined up the frayed edges.

Then I smoothed it again.

"Let's move this to the precinct," the officer said.

***

We sat in the holding area of the precinct for less than an hour before the heavy glass doors swung open.

Noel Sanchez walked in.

He didn't run. He didn't look panicked. He wore a charcoal wool coat over a tailored navy suit. His hair was neatly combed, not a single strand out of place. He smelled faintly of expensive sandalwood and mint.

He walked right past me.

He didn't glance at my face. He didn't look at Briella's bruised jaw. He treated us like empty chairs.

He walked straight to Kyla.

"I'm here, sweetheart," Noel said. His voice was soft, warm, and protective. He wrapped an arm around Kyla's shoulders and pulled her against his chest.

Kyla buried her face into his coat, letting out a soft, rehearsed whimper. Noel stroked her hair with gentle fingers.

Then he stepped over to the desk sergeant. He spoke in a low, polished baritone. He was calm, charming, and cooperative. He was playing the part of a wealthy, respectable businessman dealing with an unfortunate misunderstanding.

Once he finished with the officer, Noel turned around.

He looked at me.

The warm tenderness on his face vanished instantly. What replaced it was cold, calculating steel. He walked over and stopped two feet in front of my chair. He looked down at me as if I were a smudge of dirt on his shoe.

"You really made a mess today, Vienna," he said. His voice was quiet, meant only for our small circle, but loud enough for the officers and Briella to hear.

I didn't blink. "Did I?"

"You're embarrassing yourself," he whispered, a sharp edge cutting through his words. "And you're embarrassing me. So here is how this ends."

Briella shifted beside me, her fists clenched, but I held up a single finger. She stayed quiet.

Noel leaned down slightly. "You will drop every single complaint right now. You will issue a public apology to Kyla for this scene. Then, you will sign an agreement relinquishing every claim to our so-called marriage and all shared assets. You walk away with your personal clothes. Nothing else."

"And if I don't?" I asked. My voice sounded flat. Empty.

A cruel, confident smile touched Noel's lips.

"If you don't," Noel said softly, "I will use my controlling stake in your company to ruin you. I will freeze the atelier's accounts by tomorrow morning. I will dissolve your board by noon. I will take your designs, your boutique, and your name, and I will erase you from this city. You will have nothing left."

He tapped his watch with two fingers.

"You have five minutes to decide, Vienna. Be smart for once in your life."