His and Her Unspoken Secret

In the seventh year of being in love with the Don, George Grimaldi, I said yes to his proposal.

Inside a top-tier luxury bridal boutique, I stood in front of the mirror wearing the first wedding gown of my life. I looked at myself again and again and couldn’t stop smiling. Behind me, he watched in silence for a long moment.

Then suddenly, he spoke, “Oh, right. We can’t get married for now. I’m married to someone else.”

For a second, I thought I had misheard him. However, my entire body went stiff. The color drained from my face.

“Josie is a benefactor of my family,” he explained casually, like he was talking about the weather. “My father insisted I register with her. But don’t worry. She won’t affect our relationship.”

My ears rang. It took me a long time before I could finally process his words.

“So you’ve been lying to me for seven years?”

He frowned, as if I were the unreasonable one. “I wasn’t lying. I just forgot to tell you. This is my fault. If you don’t mind, we can still hold the wedding as planned—the gown, the ring, the honeymoon. You’ll have everything you deserve.”

I lowered my gaze. My hand drifted down and rested gently against my lower abdomen. There was something else here, too—a secret I had planned to tell him today.

...

Those few sentences hit me like bricks. The pain was so sharp I almost couldn’t stay on my feet.

“But you’ve never mentioned it once in the seven years I’ve been with you…” I tried to steady myself, but my voice still trembled.

For seven years, he had cherished me and protected me. When he looked at me, it felt like I was the only woman in the world. I had never doubted him or imagined that behind all that devotion, there was another woman.

George Grimaldi let out a low laugh. “Because it wasn’t important.”

Then, he stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. His possessive kiss fell against the side of my neck. Once, those kisses made all my fears disappear. Now, they felt like needles piercing my skin.

He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Bella, we don’t need a piece of paper to prove what we have.”

We didn’t need a piece of paper to prove what we have? Did I not need a name, a legal status, or a title? Was all I had to be his hidden mistress?

Two teardrops slid down my face before I could stop them. They fell straight onto the back of his hand.

I shoved him away and stumbled into the bathroom.

“Do you have to react this way?” he said as he followed me in, holding out a handkerchief. “Josie’s parents were shot and killed protecting my father, the old Don. They left her all alone. It was my father who insisted I marry her, for the sake of her future. I’ve settled her down in a place on the west side of the city, and I see her occasionally.”

I gripped the edge of the sink and forced myself upright. I stared at the man in the mirror. He was still unbelievably handsome and the man I had loved for seven years. Yet, he suddenly felt like a stranger.

“So every time you said you had family matters to handle on the west side…”

“Yes. I went to see her,” he admitted calmly. “Father likes her. From time to time, he asks me to bring her to family dinners. It’s just a meal.”

For seven years—more than two thousand days and nights, he’d had countless chances to tell me the truth. Yet, he chose to hide it.

A dull cramp twisted in my lower abdomen, and I bent over instinctively.

George frowned and reached out. “Is your stomach acting up again?”

I dodged him without thinking, and my lower back slammed hard against the marble counter.

“Don’t touch me.”

He froze. A flash of irritation flickered in his eyes. Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and hung up. When it rang again, he hung up again.

The third time, he muttered, “What a hassle,” before he answered.

A woman’s voice came through the speaker, soft and dependent. “George, my head hurts so much. Can you come stay with me?”

He sighed. “Be good. Take your medicine. I’ll come in a few days.”

When he turned back to me, his tone softened slightly. “She tried to kill herself on the day of her parents’ funeral, and her health’s been poor ever since. I can’t just leave her be.”

I didn’t speak, but fragments of memory suddenly snapped into place. I remembered all those dinners he left halfway through, all those conversations he cut short, and even once, on our wedding anniversary. I always felt sorry for how busy he was, so I waited for him without complaint. However, as it turned out, those hours he wasn’t by my side, he was with his other “wife”.

I forced out a smile that looked worse than crying. My eyes burned.

“I want to meet her.”

His voice dropped, carrying a clear warning. “Why would you meet her? I told you, she’s just a burden. She won’t affect what we have.”

I tore off my veil and threw it onto the floor. The tiny diamonds were scattered everywhere, clinking against the ground like the sound of something shattering.

“George, do you really think it doesn’t affect anything? If I’m not your legal wife, I won’t be the first person to sign your surgical consent form. Even if we have a child, I can’t be listed as the mother on paper!” I wrapped my arms around myself, but I couldn’t stop shaking as I asked, “Then what am I? Tell me. What’s the difference between a mistress and me?”

George didn’t get angry. He bent down, picked up the veil, and calmly told someone outside to replace it with a more expensive one.

“No one is a mistress. I told you. You’ll have everything. I love you. I just want you by my side. You don’t need to feel guilty toward her. All you need is to be my most beautiful Donna.”

Another wave of pain hit me, this time fiercer than before. I lifted my face, and finally, the tears spilled over.

“Then what about her? Is she your Donna, too?”

He was silent for a long time. Then, he spoke, “I owe that much to her.”

If he owed that much to her, then what about those seven years of mine? Did he not owe that much to me as well?

A metallic taste rose in my throat. Suddenly, my phone rang. When I answered, my father’s weak but joyful voice came through the line.

“Sweetheart, I’ve sent out all the wedding invitations. I’m so happy that I can finally walk you down the aisle and hand you over to a reliable man.”