Chapter 4 - The Marriage Before Mine
For one terrible second, neither of us moved.
The silver album remained open in my hands.
The empty compartment was hidden beneath a photograph, but Leonardo’s gaze seemed sharp enough to see through paper.
“I wanted to surprise you on our anniversary,” he said.
His tone was calm.
Too calm.
I forced a small laugh.
“I’m sorry. I was looking for our ceremony pictures.”
“You knew they weren’t ready.”
“I forgot.”
Leonardo descended the final step.
Water still glistened along his neck. He wore dark trousers and an unbuttoned white shirt, appearing exactly like the man from the photograph that had shattered my life.
He took the album from me.
His fingers moved casually over the hidden compartment.
Then he looked up.
“What did you take?”
My heart struck my ribs.
“Nothing.”
“Elena.”
The softness in his voice made the threat worse.
“I opened the cover, saw the photographs, and heard you behind me.”
He stared at my face as though searching for a crack.
Then his expression changed.
He smiled.
“Of course.”
He closed the album and placed it on the shelf.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been protective of the surprise.”
He kissed my forehead.
But his body remained tense.
“Why don’t you change for dinner?” he said. “I’ll make us something special.”
I went upstairs without hurrying.
Inside the bathroom, I locked the door and removed the drive from my pocket.
Ava had warned us that Leonardo kept copies because he trusted no one.
Now I needed to get the drive out of the villa before he searched me.
I texted Ruth a single word.
Found.
Her answer came immediately.
Leave now.
I couldn’t.
Leonardo stood somewhere beyond the bedroom, and I suspected he had already realized the drive was missing.
I wrapped it inside a tissue and placed it beneath the removable base of a perfume bottle. Then I changed into a cream evening dress and returned downstairs.
Candles burned on the dining table.
A bottle of wine stood open.
Leonardo was slicing vegetables at the kitchen island.
“This feels more like our honeymoon,” he said.
I sat across from him.
He poured wine into my glass.
I lifted it but did not drink.
“What happened at the retreat?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The doctor said you refused medication.”
“I didn’t think I needed it.”
“He believes you do.”
“I’m feeling better now.”
His eyes dropped toward the glass.
“You should drink. It’ll help you relax.”
“I haven’t eaten.”
“I’m cooking.”
He came around the island and placed one hand on my shoulder.
His thumb moved against my skin.
“Did you meet anyone interesting there?”
“A woman named Chiara.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
“No old friends?”
The question was too specific.
He knew Ava had contacted me, or at least feared she might.
I looked at him innocently.
“Why would an old friend be at a wellness retreat?”
He smiled.
“No reason.”
A car door closed outside.
Leonardo glanced toward the windows.
“Are you expecting someone?” I asked.
“No.”
He walked toward the entrance.
The moment he turned away, I switched our wine glasses.
A woman entered without knocking.
Sofia.
She wore a tailored black dress and carried a leather handbag. My diamond earrings were no longer at her ears, but my bracelet remained around her wrist.
She stopped when she saw me.
Leonardo’s jaw tightened.
“Sofia works with the villa management company,” he said quickly.
Sofia recovered almost instantly.
“There was a security concern,” she explained.
I looked at the bracelet.
“That’s beautiful.”
Her hand moved toward her wrist.
“Thank you.”
“I have one exactly like it.”
Silence filled the room.
Leonardo gave Sofia a warning look.
She smiled.
“It’s a popular design.”
“No,” I said. “It was custom-made.”
Sofia’s confidence flickered.
Leonardo stepped between us.
“Elena, you’re tired.”
There it was again.
The preparation.
The implication that what I saw could not be trusted.
I tilted my head.
“Maybe I am.”
Sofia placed her handbag on the counter.
“Perhaps I should come back later.”
“No,” Leonardo said. “Stay.”
The command surprised her.
He poured another glass of wine.
“Elena has had a difficult few days. I think it would be helpful if she understood that nothing unusual is happening.”
“Nothing unusual?” I asked.
Sofia studied my face.
“Your husband has been worried about you.”
“And you discuss my health?”
“I coordinate guest services.”
“With my bracelet on your wrist?”
Leonardo’s pleasant expression disappeared.
“Enough.”
I looked at him.
“Why did you send me away?”
“To help you.”
“Why did you bring her here?”
“I didn’t.”
Sofia glanced at him.
A tiny mistake.
But I saw it.
So did he.
Leonardo picked up my wine glass—the one I had switched—and drank.
For several minutes, nothing happened.
Then he blinked more slowly.
His hand tightened against the counter.
Whatever he had placed in my drink was beginning to affect him.
Sofia noticed.
“What did you do?” she asked me.
“I switched the glasses.”
Leonardo stared at me.
The mask finally fell.
“You stupid woman.”
The insult came quietly, almost lazily.
It hurt less than I expected.
Perhaps because the man who said it was no longer my husband. He was simply a criminal whose face I had once loved.
Sofia grabbed her handbag.
“We need to leave.”
Leonardo seized her wrist.
“Where is the drive?”
Her face changed.
“What drive?”
“The one from the album.”
“I didn’t take it.”
They began turning against each other exactly as Ava predicted.
I stepped backward.
Leonardo pointed at me.
“Search her.”
Sofia hesitated.
“Leonardo, she knows.”
“Search her!”
She moved toward me.
I reached into my purse and activated the emergency alarm Ruth’s investigator had given me.
A piercing sound filled the villa.
Outside, headlights appeared beyond the glass doors.
Ruth had been waiting nearby with two private security officers.
Leonardo lunged toward me, but the drug weakened his balance. He struck the edge of the table and fell against a chair.
Sofia ran toward the side exit.
One of the security officers intercepted her in the garden.
Ruth entered through the front door.
“Do not touch my client,” she said.
Leonardo looked at me from the floor.
His eyes were unfocused, but the hatred in them was clear.
“You planned this.”
I thought of the retreat, the fake doctor, the forged documents, and the woman who had worn my mother’s diamonds.
“No,” I said. “You did.”
The police arrived ten minutes later.
Leonardo was treated by paramedics and questioned about the substance in the wine. He claimed I had drugged him.
Then Ruth showed the officers the recorded conversation with Dr. Lawson and photographs of the unsealed medication bottle he had left for me.
The contents of Leonardo’s glass matched the pills prescribed in my name.
Sofia refused to speak.
Leonardo demanded an attorney.
But the true breakthrough came from the encrypted drive.
Ruth’s forensic specialist opened it shortly after midnight.
The files contained years of records.
Photographs of Ava.
Medical reports.
Transfers from her accounts.
Messages between Leonardo and Sofia discussing “the Nevada plan.”
Then came folders labeled with women’s names.
Five women.
Ava had not been the first.
Neither was I.
Leonardo and Sofia had spent nearly a decade identifying wealthy women who were grieving, isolated, or newly responsible for family assets. Leonardo approached them romantically. Sofia entered their lives under different identities. Marcus created documents. Cooperating doctors or consultants built records of instability.
Sometimes they stole money before the wedding.
Sometimes after.
In two cases, the women had died.
One death was ruled an accidental overdose.
The other was described as suicide.
Among the files was a folder labeled ELENA W.
Inside were photographs taken months before I met Leonardo.
Images of me leaving my father’s office.
Dining with friends.
Visiting my mother’s grave.
There were notes about my habits, fears, family relationships, and estimated inheritance.
Then I found a document titled APPROACH STRATEGY.
The first line read:
Subject remains emotionally vulnerable following mother’s death and father’s cardiac diagnosis.
I could not continue reading.
The love story I remembered had been built from surveillance.
Our accidental meeting at a charity dinner had not been accidental.
The restaurant where he proposed had been chosen because my mother once celebrated an anniversary there.
Every tender detail had been researched.
Every comforting word had been designed.
Near sunrise, Ruth opened the final folder.
It contained a scan of a marriage certificate.
Leonardo Whitmore and Sofia Marquez.
Married nine years earlier in Nevada.
They had never divorced.
My marriage to Leonardo was not merely fraudulent.
It was legally invalid.
May you like
I had not been his wife for even four days.
I had been a target wearing a wedding dress.
