My Husband Crashed My Second Wedding

Ten years ago, I made a bet with my father: survive a decade married to Caspian Snyder, and everything he owned would be mine. Lose, and I'd crawl back home to the fiancé I never wanted. But three years into the marriage, Caspian's affection had already begun to sour. At first, it was wild parties that kept him away. Then he started bringing others home. Marina Bishop was his favorite—the one who stuck around the longest. I knew she meant something to him. That high-powered CEO, the man who never bent for anyone, would kneel to slip shoes onto her feet. He'd cook for her—him, who swore he hated the kitchen. His office was drowning in her pink things, a color he claimed to despise. He even set a couple's profile picture of the two of them, falling into every cliché romance had to offer.

"Christina, she might be a little silly, but I love her youthful energy. I can't stand the gloom that follows you around," he told me one rainy afternoon. I just stared at him, words stuck in my throat, raindrops smearing the world outside the window. My heart splintered like glass under his heel.

A sudden call yanked me back to the present. "Mrs. Snyder, Mr. Snyder personally ordered a one-of-a-kind emerald bracelet for you—worth a million dollars. It's a surprise he's planned. Are you home to receive it?" My eyes drifted to the scars on my wrist, and I let out a quiet, bitter laugh. I hadn't touched a bracelet since that night.

Year three of our marriage, I was rushing to bring Caspian some critical documents in a snowstorm. I slipped and plunged into an icy lake. The damage was permanent. The doctor told me it would be nearly impossible for me to carry a child. For nine years, I put my body through endless injections, pills, and procedures, until finally—finally—I got pregnant. Then Marina Bishop shoved me, and I lost our baby at eight months' gestation.

I lost my mind. I called the police and had her arrested, but Caspian bailed her out within hours. He held me as I sobbed, his voice cold as the lake that had taken my future: "Christina, Marina is pregnant. Since you can't have children, why not let her have this one—for us to raise?"

I went numb. A bitter laugh clawed out of me, but I didn't answer. That night, I slit my wrists.

When I woke up, Caspian was beside my hospital bed, crying like a child. "Christina, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize how much the baby meant to you. You have no idea how terrified I was—I thought I'd lose you. I can't live without you." His voice cracked. "I'll end things with Marina completely. I'll make her terminate the pregnancy. From now on, it'll just be you and me. Okay?"

He kicked Marina out of the company, cut ties with her—or so it seemed—and catered to my every whim. For a while, we slipped back into those early happy days. I started to believe him again. I was almost ready to give him another shot. Then the photos arrived: Marina and him, tangled together, intimate as lovers.

I pulled myself back to the present and told the caller, "Throw the bracelet away." I had barely hung up when a WhatsApp message popped up from Marina: "Caspian says I'm still the best. You old hag—he'll replace you sooner or later." Attached was a photo of them locked in a passionate kiss.

I typed back without hesitation: "Great. Tell him to come sign the divorce papers—immediately."

Caspian's furious call came minutes later. "Christina Reynolds, are you doing this on purpose? I already told you—I won't agree to a divorce!" His voice sharpened. "Besides, if we divorce, where will you even go? Who would want a barren woman like you?" The words cut through me, colder and sharper than anything he'd said before.

I didn't answer. I just hung up and started packing. Funny thing—after all those years of marriage, I barely had enough belongings to fill a single suitcase.

Over the next few days, like he was trying to spite me, Caspian paraded Marina around in public. He introduced her to his associates, paraded her at events, and even dropped ten million on a pink diamond for their unborn child. People started whispering that my days as Mrs. Snyder were numbered. But I didn't cry. I didn't rage. I simply erased every trace of myself from that house.

One night, Caspian stumbled into my arms, reeking of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot. "Christina, why aren't you angry?" He shook me hard. The scent of Marina's signature apple perfume clung to his clothes. Strangely, the smell turned my stomach.

The image of Caspian and Marina—naked, tangled, flushed—flashed through my mind, and pure revulsion surged up my throat. I shoved him off me and bolted to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet.

Caspian stormed in after me, his eyes wild with disbelief. "Christina—am I really that disgusting to you?" He grabbed me and pushed me in front of the mirror, then tore at my clothes with a vicious rip. "I've never called you vile. So why are you acting like some pure little angel?" His voice dropped to a snarl. "Hasn't your body already been touched by another man?"

And with that, he sank his teeth into my neck.