Chapter 2

I did not sleep that night.

After Damian left the study, I remained in the same chair for what felt like hours, staring at the marriage certificate spread across his desk. The document looked so ordinary that it was almost insulting. The paper was thick, the seals appeared authentic, and the signatures were exactly where I remembered them being six years ago.

I had held that certificate with both hands on the day Damian gave it to me. I remembered the way he had smiled when I asked whether everything was finally official. He had kissed my forehead and told me that there was nothing left for me to worry about.

I had never thought to verify it.

Why would I have?

I had trusted my husband.

Or at least, I had trusted the man I believed was my husband.

By morning, I had made a decision. I would not confront Damian about the certificate yet. If it was fraudulent, accusing him without knowing how much he had done would only warn him that I was looking into the matter. Whatever evidence existed could disappear before I had a chance to find it.

So I did the only thing I could think of.

I photographed everything.

I took pictures of the certificate, the documents surrounding it, and every page that appeared remotely connected to our marriage or Damian's dealings with Vivian. I returned each document to exactly where I had found it, careful not to leave any indication that someone had searched the study.

The second wedding ring was gone.

I assumed Damian had taken it after I left.

The photograph of Vivian, however, remained burned into my memory.

By eight in the morning, I called Clara.

She had been my lawyer for several years, long before I married Damian, and she was one of the few people in my life who had never treated me as an extension of him.

"Clara, I need you to check something for me."

Her voice immediately became serious. "What happened?"

I told her everything.

I expected disbelief. Instead, she asked me to send her a copy of the certificate. I sent the photographs I had taken before explaining that I still had access to the original.

"I've received the copies," she said after a few minutes. "But I need the original."

"Why?"

"Because I want it examined properly. Don't give it to anyone, Elena. Not Damian, not his secretary, and especially not anyone connected to Cross Corporation. Bring it directly to my office."

Something in her tone made me sit straighter.

"Is it really that serious?"

"I don't know yet."

"Clara."

She was silent for a moment before finally saying, "Elena, I checked the registry before calling you. There is no record of your marriage to Damian Cross."

Although I had spent the entire night preparing myself for those words, hearing them still made my chest tighten.

"So I'm not married to him."

"Legally, no."

I looked down at my left hand.

The diamond ring Damian had given me six years ago was still there.

For years, I had treated that ring as proof of everything we had built together. I wore it while signing household documents, attending private dinners, and waiting for him to come home. Even during our worst arguments, I never took it off because I believed that whatever happened between us, I was still his wife.

Now I could barely stand looking at it.

"What about the certificate?"

"That's where things become more complicated."

I waited.

"The registry number printed on your certificate is legitimate," Clara continued, "but it belongs to another marriage."

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean someone used a genuine registry number to make your document appear legitimate. The number exists, but it isn't attached to you or Damian."

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"So someone forged it."

"The evidence strongly suggests that."

"Who?"

"I don't know yet."

I glanced toward the study door.

"But my identification details are on the certificate."

"Exactly."

Clara's voice became more careful.

"Your name, identification number, date of birth, and other personal information were reproduced accurately. Whoever created this had access to your records."

I slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.

Until that moment, I had thought I was dealing with an unfaithful husband. I had imagined Vivian and Damian having an affair behind my back, and although the thought was painful, I understood the ugliness of it. People cheated. People lied. People fell out of love.

But this was different.

Someone had gone to considerable effort to create a marriage that appeared real while making certain it would never exist in the official records.

"Why would anyone do that?" I asked.

"That's what we need to find out."

After the call ended, those words followed me everywhere.

What were they trying to accomplish?

And why had I been the person they needed to erase?

I spent the rest of the day making arrangements for Gabriel's funeral.

Damian was largely absent.

He sent flowers and instructed his assistant to handle several expenses. A representative from Cross Corporation arrived with a formal condolence message on behalf of the company, as though my brother's death were a business matter that could be acknowledged with appropriate paperwork.

Damian himself did not appear until late that evening.

By then, Gabriel's coffin had been placed in the small funeral chapel, and I was sitting alone beside him.

I heard Damian's footsteps behind me before he stopped a few feet away.

"You should go home."

I looked at him.

"I am home."

His expression hardened slightly.

"You know what I mean."

I turned back toward Gabriel's coffin.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was different now. Before, I had always been the one trying to fill it, asking Damian what was wrong, trying to understand why he was distant.

I no longer felt the need.

"Did you know my marriage certificate was fake?" I asked.

Damian's eyes moved toward me.

"Where did this come from?"

"I asked you a question."

"Elena, you're grieving. You're looking for someone to blame because you don't know how to deal with what happened."

I turned toward him.

"My brother died after the surgeon assigned to him was removed from his operating schedule through your company's medical office."

"That's not what happened."

"Then tell me what happened."

He didn't answer.

I studied his face, searching for even the smallest trace of guilt or sorrow. I had spent six years learning his expressions, his silences, and the subtle changes in his voice whenever he wanted to avoid a subject.

Tonight, he looked irritated.

That hurt more than anger would have.

"What am I to you, Damian?"

His brows drew together.

"What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one."

I looked at the ring on my finger.

"Was I ever really your wife?"

For the first time, he seemed genuinely uncomfortable.

"You know what you are to me."

"No. I don't."

"Legal paperwork doesn't determine what two people are to each other."

His answer settled something inside me.

He continued, as though he could still make me understand his reasoning.

"We made our vows. We lived together for six years. We built a life together. Why are you suddenly obsessing over a piece of paper?"

"Because that piece of paper was the only proof I ever had."

"You don't need proof."

I looked at him.

"Apparently, I did."

His jaw tightened.

"You're being dramatic."

The words were quiet, but they cut deeper than he probably intended.

I stared at him for several seconds before nodding.

"You're right. I'm grieving."

His expression relaxed slightly, believing the conversation was finally ending.

"But grief has a way of making people see things differently," I continued. "Maybe I'm finally seeing things I should have noticed years ago."

I slipped the ring from my finger.

Damian's eyes followed the movement as I placed it on the table beside Gabriel's flowers.

"I think you should keep it."

I stood before he could respond and walked away.

That night, I went straight to Clara's office.

The original marriage certificate was inside my bag.

I placed it on her desk and sat across from her.

"I want to file for divorce."

Clara looked at me for several seconds.

"There's a problem."

"I know."

"No, Elena. I don't think you do."

She touched the certificate with one finger.

"If there was never a legal marriage, there is technically nothing to dissolve."

I stared at the document.

The strange thing was that I expected the realization to hurt.

Instead, it brought me an unexpected sense of freedom.

For six years, I had believed Damian held the power to leave me. I thought I needed his signature, his agreement, or perhaps even his permission to walk away from the life we had built together.

He had never possessed that power.

I had been free all along.

Clara opened another file.

"There is something else."

I looked up.

"I ran a preliminary check on the identification records used to create this certificate. Someone accessed information connected to you around the time the document was supposedly issued."

"Who?"

"I don't know yet."

She closed the file and looked directly at me.

"But before I proceed, I need to ask you something. Are you certain you don't want to investigate who forged your marriage certificate?"

I thought about Gabriel.

I thought about the surgeon who had been reassigned, Damian celebrating Vivian's birthday while my brother was dying, the photograph on her phone, and the second wedding ring hidden in his desk.

Most of all, I thought about the six years I had spent believing I was protected by a marriage that had never existed.

My grief was still there, heavy enough to make every breath difficult. But beneath it, something else had begun to take shape.

Suspicion.

"Yes," I said quietly. "I do."

I picked up the forged certificate and studied the names printed across the page.

"But first, I want to know what they were trying to hide."