When I finally lay my eyes on two marriage certificates, I finally realize that the certificate I share with my husband, Vittore Ferri, is the fake one. As for the other certificate, it's real.

The other certificate shows Vittore and Chiara Romano, the daughter of the Ferri family's former Consigliere.

So, it turns out that the husband, whom I've just married, has already married another woman a month ago.

I practically snatched the two documents out, spreading them side by side on the desk. Taking a deep breath, I began comparing every detail.

The names, the dates… There were three differences. The first was the woman's name. My name, Francesca Delle, was on one, and Chiara Romano's was on the other.

The second was the date. The date on my document was two weeks ago, while the one with Chiara's name was four weeks ago.

I fixed my gaze on the lower-right corner of the documents. The last thing that was different was the official seal.

Although they looked almost identical, they were undeniably different.

The lines on mine looked indistinct, and the gold embossing was patchy. Moreover, under the sunlight, it looked flimsy and cheap.

The seal on Chiara's, on the other hand, looked so sharp. As for the ink on the paper, it caught the sunlight and reflected a brilliant, unquestionable sheen.

In that instant, it became clear to me that the marriage certificate bearing Vittore's name and mine was fake.

My knees buckled as all my strength left my body, and I slumped to the ground.

Six years… I had been with Vittore for six years. That was more than two thousand days and nights together.

Two weeks ago, he had invited a man to our home, claiming that he was an official from City Hall who could handle our marriage registration on-site. I was thrilled out of my mind.

Nervously, I followed the official's instructions, handed over all relevant documents needed, and watched as he stamped the marriage certificate with an official seal.

I thought that moment marked the beginning of Vittore's and my happily ever after. I never imagined it was the start of his lie.

All of a sudden, Vittore's voice drifted in from outside the half-open door, along with the sound of another pair of footsteps.

"Send the dress to Ms. Romano's place. Don't forget the pink diamond ring I bought at the auction last month."

"Yes, Mr. Ferri. Ms. Romano seems a bit upset. She asked whether you could see her tonight—"

Vittore cut him off impatiently, "Let Chiara know that I'll come by later. The world doesn't revolve around her, so tell her to stop acting up and focus on what really matters."

"Understood."

As I heard the other person walk away, I sat stiffly on the chair. Then, I heard Vittore walking toward the study.

Just before the door was fully pushed open, I shoved both documents back into the safe as fast as I could, smoothed my hair, and stood.

When Vittore came in, he looked slightly surprised to see me. "Francesca? What are you doing here? I thought you were in the studio."

"I was looking for an old sketchbook," I said calmly. "I remember seeing it on the top shelf last time."

"Have a maid find it for you. The shelves are dusty."

He walked over and casually reached to hold my waist. However, I avoided his touch, pretending to check another shelf.

As his hand hung in midair, his gaze darkened slightly. "What's wrong? Are you in a bad mood?"

As I skimmed the shelf, I feigned nonchalance, saying, "I heard you giving instructions just now… Who's Chiara? I don't recall you ever mentioning her."

The air went still for a moment.

I braced myself against the shelf, appearing calm while silently begging him to give me a good reason for their marriage.

"She's the daughter of a deceased member of the famiglia," Vittore said from behind me, his tone untroubled. "Her father was once my father's Consigliere. He used to control two docks, and he passed away a few years ago.

"Now my father wants those docks, so he asked me to look after her for a while and see if there's an opportunity to secure them."

"Is that all?" I pressed.

"That's all." He closed the distance between us and ruffled my hair. "Don't overthink it. Once my father is done with the matters at hand, she'll be sent away. Taking care of her is only temporary."

He was temporarily taking care of the daughter of a deceased member of the famiglia… Was that the reason why he married her?

A powerful wave of nausea hit me. I said nothing more. He gave my waist an affectionate squeeze. "I won't be home for dinner tonight. The dock situation is tricky."

Struggling to keep my voice from quivering, I murmured, "Okay."

Watching him leave, I stood frozen in place.

After a long while, I took out my phone and called a close college friend, Sofia Madden. "Before, you asked whether I wanted to further my studies abroad. Is it still possible?"

"Of course it is! I showed your work to a professor. He's very interested in your work and would welcome you anytime!"

"Okay. So when do I leave?"

"In ten days."

As I shut my eyes, the two marriage certificates and the clear official seal crossed my mind.

When I opened my eyes again, I had made my decision. "Okay. I'll start preparing."

After hanging up, I looked out the window at Newirm City's gray, overcast sky.

Vittore Ferri, in ten days, I was going to end this six-year-long farce.

Two days later, in the evening, I returned home, hauling a pile of art supplies and a newly bought suitcase.

When I opened the door, a clear, unfamiliar female laugh rang out. A woman was standing next to Vittore.

Vittore came over and took the heavy things from my hands. "You're back. Perfect timing. Let me introduce the two of you."

Vittore rested a hand on my shoulder as he introduced, "This is Francesca Delle."

Then he turned to me. "Francesca, this is Chiara Romano. I mentioned her before. Her place isn't the safest right now, so she'll be staying here for a few days."

"Oh, alright. Has the staff prepared the guest room?"

"The guest room faces north, so it's a bit chilly," Vittore said thoughtfully. "Chiara isn't in the best health. She needs sunlight, so—"

"Then I'll move to the guest room," I interrupted. "The master bedroom faces the sun. Ms. Romano can rest there."

Since I had very few things, it didn't take me long to pack them.

In the end, the only thing left in the room was that massive photograph of Vittore and me.

All of a sudden, Chiara's voice came from behind me. "Need some help, Francesca?"

I shoved the last few books into a box. "No, I'm almost done."

She walked in and stopped in front of our engagement picture. "This is a nice photo. Still… engagement photos are really only meaningful if you're actually marrying the person, don't you think?"

I stood and met her gaze. "Ms. Romano, what exactly are you trying to say?"

She shrugged. "Nothing."

But as she turned, her arm "accidentally" knocked over a tall decorative vase beside her, which landed squarely on the picture.

The enormous frame came off the wall, and glass shattered everywhere.

Gasping, Chiara covered her mouth. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that. Why was that vase so unstable…"

I stood there, coldly watching her act. Vittore appeared at the doorway. Upon seeing the mess, he frowned and asked, "What happened?"

Chiara immediately looked up, her eyes red, her voice trembling. "Vittore, I'm so sorry… I was just helping Francesca check for anything she might have left behind, but I accidentally knocked over the vase and ruined your photo… Francesca must be so mad…"

She glanced at me timidly as she spoke. I knew she hoped that I would lose my temper at her so she could play the victim.

As for Vittore, he definitely wanted the opposite, hoping that I would let it slide.

I met his eyes calmly, my voice flat. "Accidents happen. Could you let me through? I need to move my stuff out."

Vittore froze. Clearly, he hadn't expected such a reaction from me.

He glanced at the broken frame on the floor, then at my expressionless face. He then said to Chiara, "It's fine. It's just a photo. Have the maids clean this up. Be careful not to cut yourself."

I couldn't help letting out a cold laugh.

True. It really was just a photo. Eventually, a wedding photo of the two of them would take up that space, and that had nothing to do with me.

…

A few days later, Chiara was going to a reunion organized by some of her old school friends.

Not only did she bring Vittore, but she also brought me.

I watched Chiara loop her arm through Vittore's as they made their way through the crowd.

She went from friend to friend, introducing Vittore in an intimate manner. "This is my husband, Vittore Ferri."

Every time she said the word husband, it felt like a tiny needle was stabbing my heart.

After a while, Vittore came over to my side and whispered, "She said her ex is here. She didn't want to look bad in front of him, so she just made it up."

I looked away as Chiara led Vittore away.

A group of obviously tipsy young people swayed past me, their conversation drifting over. "That's Chiara's husband? The Ferri famiglia heir? He's handsome."

"I heard they got married recently. How lovey-dovey of them."

"Hey, who's the woman over there staring at Mr. Ferri?"

"No idea. Chiara said she insisted on coming along or something. She's not even joining in the fun, and she looks gloomy. What a mood killer."

"Jeez, some people shouldn't even be here…"

Chiara's friends weren't loud, but their voices were clear enough for both me and Chiara, who had been watching me the whole time, to hear every single word.

Vittore's expression darkened.

As Chiara was sticking close to him, he pushed her aside before striding over to me and holding my hand. "Don't listen to their nonsense. They're just a bunch of youngsters who don't know any better. You know I love you…"

I gently pulled my hand back, looked up at him, and gave a very faint smile. "I don't mind."

Vittore's hand froze in midair.

I picked up my coat. "You should stay with Ms. Romano. She's the star tonight. I'll just hail a cab home."

After I spoke, I ignored the complicated expression that flashed across his face. I walked straight through the crowd and left that suffocating place.

…

I had just reached the middle of the alley in front of my apartment when hurried footsteps suddenly sounded behind me. From behind, a muscular arm grabbed me by the neck, and another hand clamped over my mouth.

I was then violently dragged into a shadowy corner piled with junk.

"Listen up, you bitch!" the man snarled, breathing hard as he pressed the blade of a knife against my throat. "I know you live with that wretched Chiara Romano! Tell her to cough up my money! She owes me five million dollars, and I want every last cent back!"

Chiara? Money?

His breathing was ragged, his emotions clearly unstable. I knew that resisting outright would only get me killed.

"O-Okay… Okay," I managed. "I'll make a… video call right now… You can talk to her directly… It'll be better that way…"

"Try anything funny, and I'll kill you on the spot!"

My hands shook as I pulled out my phone. Chiara wasn't in my contact list, but Vittore was.

Soon, the screen lit up, and Vittore appeared. I could see familiar bookshelves behind him. He was in his study. "Francesca?"

A second later, Chiara leaned into the frame. She was wearing a revealing nightgown, her hair slightly damp from having just showered, and she was pressing herself right up against Vittore.

I shouted with everything I had, "Vittore! I'm being held hostage! The guy is looking for Chiara! He says Chiara cheated him out of his money!"

I shifted the camera, doing my best to capture the knife pressed to my neck and the man holding it.

The man snarled into the phone as the blade dug into my throat, "Chiara Romano! You bitch! Did you really think I couldn't find you just because you're with the Ferri famiglia?"

Vittore's gaze snapped to Chiara, his face turning icy. He stood up to grab his coat.

But in the next second, Chiara let out an exaggerated gasp. "What? Vitorre, what… what is the meaning of this? Francesca, even if you're angry with me, you can't do something like this just to get Vittore's attention! This is dangerous, and honestly… way too childish!"

Vittore stopped what he was doing. He stared at the screen, the worry and shock on his face slowly replaced by a cold, cutting suspicion.

Vittore's voice dropped, sharp with suppressed fury. "Francesca, where are you? What is this about? Do you have any idea what time it is? Is pulling something like this supposed to be funny?"

Tears welled up in my eyes from panic as I felt the knife draw closer, the pain impossible to ignore. "I'm not pulling anything, Vittore! This is real! Listen to me—"

"That's enough!" Vittore cut me off harshly.

He had clearly run out of patience, the disappointment in his eyes undisguised. "I don't have time for this childish stunt! I already told you I'm only taking care of Chiara temporarily. If you're going to throw a tantrum, at least pick a decent way! Chiara's right. I'm beyond disappointed in you!"

"Vittore, no!"

Chiara said lightly, "The wine's ready. It's perfect now. Let's go have a drink, Vittore. I never thought Francesca would be this willful…"

With that, the call ended just like that.

The screen went dark, reflecting my pale, despairing face.

Behind me, a rough, chilling laugh sounded. "It looks like your life's worth nothing to them, pretty lady."

The last thing I saw was the glint of the knife as he swung it toward me. There were only four days left… I might not… make it that long…