The Other Mrs. Hayes

I parted my lips, but no words came out. It felt as if something had lodged itself in my throat.

She had said Hunter was her husband, but the man in that photo was my husband of five years.

The Hayes family was one of the most powerful families in Havenbrook, with influence reaching into every corner of the city. That was why we had kept our marriage a secret.

Hunter had told me it was to protect me. He said he was too busy with work, and once the media found out, they would never leave me alone.

I believed him. I believed him for five whole years. I never imagined that, in the end, I would turn out to be the biggest fool of all.

The young woman's face flushed with anger.

"I've seen women like you before. The moment you spot a rich man, you throw yourselves at him without a shred of shame, trying to ruin someone else's marriage. And you work at City Hall? I'm filing a complaint. I'll make sure you lose your job."

My coworker hurried to smooth things over. "Ms. Summers, please calm down. I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding? The photo speaks for itself."

I took a slow breath, retrieved my phone, and was surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "It is a misunderstanding. I used to work in the neighboring city as a reporter. I interviewed Mr. Hayes once, and we took a photo together. That's all."

Chloe studied me, still suspicious. "You interviewed him?"

"Yes. It was for work."

She watched me for a few more seconds before finally relaxing. "Oh… I'm sorry. I misunderstood."

She smiled awkwardly. "It's just that my husband is too outstanding. Women are always trying to get close to him, so I've gotten a little paranoid."

I smiled back.

"It's okay. So… about the copy of marriage certificate… You're still missing your IDs," I said. "You'll have to go home and get them."

Chloe frowned. "I don't live far. I'll just run home and grab them."

"I'll go with you." I stood up. "I can take photos of them and bring them back, so you won't have to make another trip."

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Sure. Let's go."

I followed her out of City Hall. She drove a brand-new white Porsche, and the entire interior was decorated in pink.

…

Twenty minutes later, the car pulled up in front of a neighborhood that looked painfully familiar.

When I followed her upstairs and stopped outside the apartment, my heart skipped a beat. I knew this place far too well.

Five years ago, when Hunter and I got married, I had used every dollar I had saved before the wedding as the down payment on this apartment.

I knew the Hayes family was unimaginably wealthy and would never care about a place like this. I only wanted to prove that I had not married him for his money.

Back then, Hunter had told me the company was strapped for cash. He wanted to keep our marriage private for the time being, and once business picked up, we would have a real wedding.

I understood. I supported him. Later, when the company was thriving again, he never mentioned the wedding or the apartment.

I asked him about it a few times. He told me he had rented it out. The rent showed up in my account every month without fail, so I never had any reason to come see it myself.

Standing in the entryway, I saw an enormous wedding portrait hanging in the center of the living room.

Hunter was dressed in a white suit. The woman beside him wore a sweeping white gown, smiling as sweetly as if she had won the entire world.

"Come on in. Have a seat," Chloe called.

I stepped inside, feeling unsteady on my feet.

In five years of marriage, Hunter had never given me a wedding. We did not even have a wedding portrait.

The only photo we had together was one I had begged him to take during a vacation. Even then, he had stood beside me looking more like a stranger than my husband.

Yet here, hanging on the wall, was a wedding portrait of him and another woman. Nearly seven feet by seven feet, framed in gold, placed directly across from the sofa.

"Your home feels really cozy," I said, forcing a smile.

She laughed. "I actually think the portrait's way too big. It's kind of tacky. But my husband insisted on hanging it. He said he wanted everyone who walked in to know I was his wife."

"He… treats you well."

"I guess." She tried to sound modest, but the pride in her eyes gave her away. "Have a seat. I'll go find the IDs."

I sat down on the couch, unable to look away from the portrait. Hunter's smile was warm and tender. It was a smile I had never once seen directed at me.

So it was not that he disliked taking photos. He just disliked taking photos with me.