My Fake Husband Was Already Married to My Sister

Five years ago, I think my life is finally getting fixed—until I find out the evidence that put my adoptive sister Felicity in jail for running me over… was all a lie. Five years ago it came out that my adoptive sister, Felicity, was the one who’d run me over. My parents and my fiancé, Sebastian, stood by me like a wall. Felicity was thrown out that very night. Sebastian made sure she went to jail. Fast forward five years. Christmas Eve. My parents are supposedly abroad. Sebastian says he has to work late—another lastminute excuse. I’m used to it. I feed his disabled sister, Sammy, then head out alone to buy groceries for Christmas dinner. As I pass a flower shop, I see someone I shouldn’t. Felicity—alive, smirking into her phone. “Yeah, I’m buying flowers for my husband. He’s sacrificed so much. I have to spoil him,” she coos. “He’s a CEO. No matter how busy he is, he comes home to me every single day. Five years of marriage, and he’s never asked me to lift a finger. Today’s Christmas. He canceled everything. He’s cooking dinner for me and my parents.” I look up. There he is—Sebastian—walking toward her with grocery bags. And behind him? My parents, the ones who were supposed to be in another country. Sebastian doesn’t see me. He smiles and hooks his arm through Felicity’s. “Hey, honey. Who were you on the phone with?” he asks. Before she can answer, my parents flock to Felicity. My mother presses a candy apple into her hand like she’s a child. My father pats her arm, sighing. “I know you and Sebastian have been married for years, but on paper… it still says Leah’s name. That’s not fair to you,” he says. “You’ve been so patient.” Felicity glows. “It’s not hard,” she murmurs. “As long as I have Mom, Dad, and Sebastian… I’m happy.” Her voice is all humility and suffering, and my parents rush to comfort her. I stay in the shadows, shaking. Felicity never went to jail. She’s been living in the same city as me this whole time. My parents never left the country. They’ve been with her. And my marriage to Sebastian? A lie from the start. I don’t remember how I walk away. I clutch our marriage license and head to City Hall. The clerk frowns. “Ma’am… this license is forged. There’s no record of it here.” “The man on this document, Sebastian Vance? He’s already legally married to someone else.” “Felicity Carter.” The paper slips from my fingers. My hand won’t move. I make it home somehow and push the door open. The place is wrecked. The room I cleaned that morning is covered in Sammy’s waste. The vase on the table is shattered. Sammy’s leg is cut and bleeding, but she doesn’t seem to feel it—she just sits in the mess, grinning at me. This is almost every day. Five years of living in a lie. Five years of drowning in this nightmare. Sebastian built his company from nothing and he’s obsessed with saving money. So no nurse. Just me, taking care of his sister fulltime. “She’s my only family left,” he told me. “You have to be careful with her.” Five years ago I was a rich girl with a bright future. Now I count pennies before buying vegetables. I don’t cry. I fetch water, clean Sammy up, bandage her leg, scrub the floor. Then my phone rings. Sebastian. “Make two extra fish dishes tonight. Bring them to the office. I’m feeding the staff who are working late.” His voice is an order—no please, no thank you—and he hangs up before I can answer. Fish again. Neither of us likes fish. After we were “married,” Sebastian barely ate at home. But every few weeks he asks me to cook fish and take it to his office. I should have known. Felicity loved fish as a kid. Back when we all lived together, my parents used to ask me to cook it for her. Funny. When they first brought me home, they held me and promised I’d never suffer again.

Before I turned twelve, the world felt like nothing but hell. A drafty room. Bare cupboards. Endless chores. Endless beatings. The man who “raised” me was a gambler. Every time he lost, he took it out on me—pressing his cigarette into my arm, laughing at my screams. The woman was no better; she beat me for fun and hated to see me rest. I worked from dawn until midnight. Then, when I was twelve, the Carters found me. Light for the first time in that basement. And my real parents standing over me. It was the middle of summer. My wounds were festering. I smelled like rot. But they didn’t recoil. They held me. Their tears were warm against my neck. That was the first time I ever knew warmth. When I came home with them, I learned I had an adoptive sister. We’d been switched at birth. The people who’d abused me were her biological parents. My parents were good to her. I didn’t mind—I was grateful just to be warm. And then Sebastian arrived like a god. I was behind in school, never properly taught, bullied at every turn. He stood in front of me. He protected me. He taught me what I’d missed. He helped me belong. At sixteen, under the old oak, we promised forever. So when did it all start to fall apart? When Felicity turned eighteen and began faking depression—threatening to kill herself every other week. After that, somehow, I became the villain in their story. My parents looked at me differently. “Leah, Felicity is sick. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” they said, and that was all. Sebastian drifted away too. He paid more attention to Felicity. When I argued, he only frowned and said, “You’ve been way too spoiled.” Then the accident five years ago. I’d just finished my PhD ceremony and walked out of the building. A truck hit me. Bones shattered. I almost died. One foot still bears the limp. My parents stayed at my bedside for a week. Sebastian went after anyone responsible. When evidence showed Felicity had hired the driver, I thought every wrong would finally be made right. I didn’t know then that everything they did was to protect her. I look in the mirror now—bloodshot eyes, a mess of a woman, no trace of the proud girl who clutched her PhD. My chest tightens. I think of Professor Davis—he wanted me as his assistant once—and guilt blooms. My phone buzzes. A text from him. Leah. I’m leaving for France in a month. You were always my best student. Before I go, will you come with me as my assistant? I didn’t cry when my marriage turned out to be a lie. I didn’t cry when I saw my parents hand Felicity candy apples. I didn’t cry through five years of this nightmare. But seeing my professor—the man who treated me like a daughter—still care? I break. I type back before I can think. Thank you. Yes. I’ll come with you. He’s handling the visa and the tickets. I need to pack. That’s when I realize how little I own. Five years. Not one new piece of clothing. Because Sebastian said, “Be frugal.” I’ve been living like a nonperson. I’m still packing when the door opens. Sebastian walks in. He sees the empty dinner table and frowns. “Leah. What the hell?” “Did you feed Sammy? Why isn’t the fish ready?” He fires question after question—none of them asking if I’ve eaten. I look at him. My face is blank. “Why should I do any of it?”

Sebastian’s face freezes. He looks at me like I’m a complete stranger. “What did you just say?” His voice is sharp. “What do you mean, ‘why should you’?” “Leah, have you lost your mind? Are you insane? Do you even hear yourself?!” He snaps out of it fast. Then he swings his bag right at my face. I turn my head just in time to take it on the cheek, but he’s already yelling louder. “I bust my ass every single day! Who do I do it for?!” “I asked you to make one stupid fish dish, and now you’re having a breakdown?!” I feel blood on my lip. It’s split open. I wipe it slowly. Then I look at him. Not quite smiling. Not quite not. “First of all,” I say quietly. “Was that fish really for your employees?” “Second. Sammy is your sister. Not mine. Feeding her? Taking care of her? That’s your job.” Then Sammy hears the yelling from the other room. She starts crying. Stumbling out of bed. She trips and falls flat on the floor. And then she just wails. Loud. Loud enough that the neighbors come out to see what’s going on. Sebastian doesn’t go help his own sister. His face just turns red. Embarrassed. “Leah,” he hisses. “You really want to do this in front of everyone?” I don’t flinch. I pull out our marriage license. And I tear it in half right in his face. “Do what? Finally see you for what you are?” I let out a quiet laugh. “God, I really had you wrong.” “We’re done.” I grab my bag and head for the door. But the neighbors block me. “Sweetheart, we’ve known Sebastian for years,” one of them says. “That man works so hard.” “It’s your job as his wife to support him. Take care of his sister. Don’t make a scene on Christmas.” A few older women snicker. “Sebastian’s a CEO,” one of them scoffs. “And you? What do you even do all day—sit around and live off him? You should be thanking your lucky stars he married you.” “Without him, what would you even do?” I feel sick. They don’t know. None of them know. Sebastian gives me a thousand a month and calls it “frugal.” I work three jobs just to pay for Sammy’s medication and all the household bills. I’m not even angry anymore. I just turn to Sebastian. “Hey,” I say. “Do you really think I’m your wife? Like they all just said?” “Because from where I’m standing… you already have a wife. And it’s not me.” Sebastian stares at the torn pieces of paper on the floor. For a second, his face goes pale. Then something clicks behind his eyes. He laughs. A nasty little laugh. “Oh, I get it,” he says. “You’re mad about the wedding. The ceremony. That’s what this is about.” He pulls out his wallet. Throws fifty dollars on the ground. “Here. Go buy yourself something sweet, hand it out to the neighbors—call it a celebration or whatever.” “I have work to do. I don’t have time for your drama.” He walks away. Fast. Like he’s running. I don’t say anything else. I just turn to leave. But then I see Sammy, still on the floor, crying so hard she can barely breathe. She didn’t ask for any of this. I sigh. Help her up. Walk her back to bed. And when I’m changing her clothes, something falls out of her hand. A photo. A small wedding photo. And in it? Sebastian. In a tux. Holding hands with Felicity. In a white dress. Sammy sees the picture and lights up. “Lici!” she says, grinning. “Lici’s wedding! Lici gave Sammy candy!” I freeze. So much for being “too busy for a ceremony.” So much for “saving money” and “not caring about tradition.” They had a wedding. A real one. And I never even knew. Even Sammy was there. For five years, she’s never once said Felicity’s name like that. With happiness. Now she’s looking at a picture of Felicity with Sebastian… and smiling. The last bit of warmth inside me goes dark.

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