His Other Wife novel · Chapter 1 of 16
Chapter 1: The Hand in Her Photo
Ellie recognizes her husband's scarred hand in a viral poster's photo, finds her own earrings and his Paris trip in the posts, and learns at the county clerk's office that Jonathan is legally married to Clarissa Wynn.
The top comment on the thread said a man loved his wife so much that he let the whole world believe she was his mistress.
Then I saw the hand resting next to hers in her photo, and it was my husband's hand.
The thread was called "What's the craziest thing someone has done for love?"
I was reading it on my break, standing by the walk-in freezer with my apron still on.
The top reply had forty thousand likes.
"My husband's parents hated me, so he married me in secret at the courthouse. The next day he held a big fake wedding with another woman so they'd leave us alone. He still goes home to her every night. Poor idiot has no idea she's the mistress."
Somebody had answered, "This is the most romantic thing I've ever read."
I remember thinking, that poor woman.
I tapped the poster's name to see what kind of person writes that about someone.
Her profile was full of pretty little pictures.
Coffee on a hotel balcony. A grand piano in an empty concert hall.
A man's hand resting on the keys next to hers.
There was a pale scar across the back of it, shaped like a fishhook.
I knew that scar.
I had kissed it.
Jonathan cut his hand on a broken wine glass the night he proposed to me.
I scrolled down with my thumb shaking.
"My husband came home from his trip with a diamond set for me. Poor thing at home got the earrings. They were the free gift."
There was a photo of a velvet box.
Inside it were two small diamond studs shaped like teardrops.
I touched my left ear.
I was wearing them.
Jonathan had given them to me in March and said he'd saved up for six months.
I kept scrolling.
"He took me to Paris! Poor thing is back home washing dishes and watching his kid."
The post was dated April 20th.
That was the day Jonathan told me his residency in France had been approved.
I had asked if I could come.
Spouses were allowed.
He had laughed at me.
"Ellie, your French is terrible. Who are you going to talk to? Don't embarrass me over there."
Then he'd kissed my forehead and said he'd take me some other time.
I found the profile picture at last.
A woman in a black gown, seated at a piano, smiling like she owned the room.
Clarissa Wynn.
I had seen her face before, in Jonathan's college graduation photo on our bookshelf.
Standing right beside him.
My manager banged on the kitchen door. "Ellie! Table six is waiting!"
I hit screen record.
I scrolled through every single post, all the way back to the first one.
Eight years of them.
That night I lay next to Jonathan and didn't sleep at all.
He slept fine.
His hand with the scar rested on the pillow between us.
In the morning I went into the closet and pulled down the box from the top shelf.
Jonathan came in with his coffee and stopped in the doorway.
"What are you doing? You're making a mess."
"Looking for something."
The box held everything from our wedding. The guest book. The dried bouquet. Noah's first ultrasound.
Jonathan set his mug down on the dresser very carefully.
"That's all old junk, Ellie. What do you need it for?"
"HR needs a copy of our marriage certificate," I said. "I'm applying for a transfer at work."
He laughed, a little too loud.
"A transfer at a restaurant needs a marriage certificate? They're messing with you. Call them back."
He reached for the box.
I pulled it toward me.
At the very bottom, in a plastic sleeve I had kept perfectly flat for eight years, was our certificate.
Two young faces smiled up at me from the photo. Mine and his.
Jonathan's eyes were locked on it.
"I'll run it over to them now," I said.
"Ellie, wait."
I was already out the door.
I didn't go to work.
I went to the county clerk's office and slid the certificate across the counter to a woman with reading glasses on a chain.
She glanced at it for about two seconds.
Then she typed something into her computer and turned the screen toward me.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. This document isn't valid. There's no record of it in the registry."
"There has to be. We've been married eight years."
She tapped the screen.
"Mr. Jonathan Kendrick is already married," she said. "His wife's name is Clarissa Wynn."
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