The Wife He Never Deserved

ISABELLA’S POV

The woman behind the registry counter looked at me with pity before telling me that my marriage did not exist. I laughed because I thought she had made a mistake, but when she turned her computer screen toward me, my smile slowly disappeared. According to the official records, I had never been married to Alexander Vance.

“Could you check again, please?” I asked, pushing my marriage certificate across the counter. “This is the original document. My husband and I got married two years ago.”

The clerk, a middle-aged woman wearing thin glasses, examined the certificate before typing something into her computer.

“Mrs. Vance, I understand what you’re saying, but there is no marriage registration under these names.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“I’ve checked the records twice.”

I stared at her, waiting for her to laugh and admit that there had been a mistake. Instead, she picked up my certificate again and studied the seal at the bottom.

“Where did you obtain this document?”

“My husband arranged everything. We had a private ceremony, and he handled the paperwork afterward.”

Her expression changed slightly.

“Madam, I’m afraid this document does not match our official registry format. The registration number printed here belongs to another marriage record.”

My fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

Another marriage record?

“What does that mean?”

“It means this certificate may not be genuine.”

For several seconds, I couldn’t find my voice.

I had kept that certificate inside a small wooden box in our bedroom, taking it out occasionally whenever I wanted to remember the day Alexander promised to spend the rest of his life with me.

I remembered his smile, the way he held my hands, and how he kissed my forehead afterward, promising that I would never have to doubt his love.

Had that day been a lie too?

“Can I see the record attached to this registration number?” I asked.

The clerk hesitated before turning her computer slightly toward me.

“This is the information available to the public.”

I leaned closer.

The names displayed on the screen belonged to a couple I had never met, and their marriage date was completely different from mine.

My stomach twisted.

“Thank you,” I whispered, collecting my certificate.

I walked out of the registry office with my handbag pressed against my side, barely noticing the people passing around me.

Alexander had always handled our important documents. Whenever I asked about the marriage registration, he would smile and tell me that everything had been taken care of.

I had trusted him because he was my husband.

At least, I thought he was.

My phone vibrated as I reached the parking lot.

Alexander calling.

For a moment, I simply stared at his name before answering.

“Hello, darling.”

His familiar voice brought tears to my eyes, and I hated myself for still feeling comforted by it.

“Alexander, where are you?”

“At the office. Is everything alright?”

“I went to the registry today.”

There was a brief silence.

“Why?”

“I wanted another certified copy of our marriage certificate.”

“Oh, Isabella.” He chuckled softly. “You could have told me. I would have arranged it for you.”

“Alexander, they couldn’t find our marriage.”

The silence that followed was longer this time.

“What do you mean?”

“They said there is no record of our marriage. They also said the certificate you gave me might be fake.”

His voice became colder.

“Who told you that?”

“The woman at the registry. Alexander, I don’t understand what’s happening. We got married, didn’t we?”

“Isabella, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. I’ll look into it when I get home.”

“But—”

“I have an important meeting. Don’t start imagining things.”

The call ended.

I lowered my phone slowly.

He hadn’t asked whether I was frightened. He hadn’t reassured me or even tried to understand why I was upset.

He had simply ended the conversation.

For the first time in six years, I wondered whether I knew the man I had spent so much of my life loving.

I didn’t go home immediately.

Instead, I returned to the registry office and approached another counter, where a younger clerk was helping people access public marriage records.

“I need to check something,” I explained, giving her Alexander’s full name and date of birth.

“Are you a relative?”

“I’m his wife.”

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

She entered the information, waited for the results, and then frowned.

“There’s a record here.”

My heart jumped.

“Really?”

“Yes. Mr. Alexander Vance is legally married.”

Relief washed over me for half a second.

Then she continued.

“To a woman named Vanessa Reed.”

I stopped breathing.

“When?”

The clerk checked the date.

“Five years ago.”

Five years.

I had met Alexander six years ago, and he had proposed to me after a year of dating.

My fingers went cold as I read the information on the screen.

His legal marriage had taken place before he proposed to me.

“Could there be a mistake?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.

“I’m sorry, but this is an official record.”

I stepped away from the counter, struggling to understand what I had just discovered.

Five years ago, Alexander had married another woman.

Two years ago, he had stood before me and promised to love me forever, knowing perfectly well that he was already someone’s husband.

My phone vibrated again.

This time, it was a message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: You should stop digging into things that don’t concern you.

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding.

Another message arrived almost immediately.

Unknown Number: If you want to know who Vanessa Reed is, ask your husband why you’ve been raising her daughter.

My handbag slipped slightly from my shoulder.

Raising her daughter?

Before I could type a reply, a photograph appeared.

It showed Alexander standing beside a beautiful blonde woman, his arm wrapped comfortably around her waist. Between them stood a little girl wearing a pink dress.

I recognized the child immediately.

Sophia.

The little girl I had cared for, bathed, fed, and put to sleep whenever Alexander claimed he was too busy with work.

The woman beside him was smiling at the camera, but it was the ring on her finger that caught my attention.

It was identical to the one Alexander had given me.

My vision blurred as I enlarged the photograph.

At the bottom was a short message.

Unknown Number: That’s his real family, Isabella. You were never his wife.

I stood in the middle of the registry office, unable to move, while the world around me continued as though nothing had happened.

Then my phone rang.

Alexander’s name appeared on the screen.

I answered, but before I could speak, his voice came through, sharp and demanding.

“Isabella, where are you? And who gave you permission to investigate my private affairs?”

My lips trembled.

For the first time, I wasn’t sure whether I was about to cry or scream.

“Alexander,” I whispered, looking at the photograph again. “Who is Vanessa Reed?”

He said nothing.

Then, in a voice I had never heard him use with me before, he replied.

“Get home, Isabella. We need to talk about your place in this family.”

My place in this family?

I slowly lowered the phone, realizing that the man I had called my husband might have never considered me family at all.

And judging by his voice, he was more frightened of what I had discovered than sorry for what he had done.