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The Wife I Lost on New Year's Eve Novel Cover

The Wife I Lost on New Year's Eve

After finishing an overseas assignment early, a devoted husband returns home to surprise his spouse for the holidays. His life shatters when a social media video reveals his wife in a wedding dress, being carried by another man at a local hotel. Recognizing her relatives in the footage, he realizes the betrayal is real. This modern romance and mystery follows his frantic journey to the venue to confront the double life of the woman he thought he knew before it's too late.
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Chapter 4

As Lucas's groomsman spoke, he tapped open a video and shoved it in front of my face.

In the footage, Portia and Lucas stood beneath the solemn national emblem, holding up their marriage certificates as they leaned in for a sweet kiss.

"Open your damn eyes and look carefully," he sneered. "Forget Lucas—even I feel like beating the hell out of you now."

With that, he stood and drove a hard kick into me.

A muffled groan escaped my throat, but my mind was elsewhere—fixed on the marriage certificate Portia and I had received.

That day at the courthouse, right when the staff member was about to stamp our documents, Portia suddenly said she'd left her phone in the car and insisted I go back to get it.

By the time I returned, she was already holding two marriage certificates.

I hadn't thought much of it then.

Now, it was painfully clear—she had been lying to me from the very beginning.

I forced my head up and looked toward her, speaking one word at a time.

"Portia… so everything from the start was fake, wasn't it?"

She didn't answer. She simply turned her head away, avoiding my gaze.

Lucas's voice cut in, cold and sharp. "Well? Got anything left to say now?"

I pressed my lips together and said nothing. Because I knew—no matter what I said, it would be useless.

But in Lucas's eyes, my silence looked like guilt. He slapped the top of my head hard, his tone growing even more arrogant.

"You've got guts, bastard. Not only did you ruin my wedding, you even dared to slander my wife. Guys, what do you think we should do with him?"

The groomsman who had shown me the video immediately chimed in.

"Lucas, isn't it New Year's Eve today? Why don't we make this bastard kneel and beg for forgiveness? It'll count as both an apology and a New Year's greeting. What do you think?"

Lucas nodded. "Not bad. Let's do that."

The next second, two burly men hauled me up from the ground.

One of the groomsmen kicked sharply at the back of my knees, and I dropped heavily to the floor.

Just as they pressed down on my head, about to force me into a bow, a sharp voice rang out behind us, "What do you think you're doing? Group assault? Don't want to go home for New Year's Eve—want to spend it in detention instead?"

At the sight of the police, the two men holding me immediately let go.

The crowd that had gathered to watch scattered in an instant.

Portia shot Lucas a reassuring glance, then lifted her skirt and walked forward.

"Officer, I'm Portia Reymus, CEO of JP Group. It's my wedding today—everyone's just fooling around. These are our wedding candies and gift packets. Please share in the joy."

As soon as she finished speaking, her assistant stuffed wedding favors and envelopes filled with money into the officers' hands.

The lead officer weighed the envelope in his palm, exchanged a glance with his colleague, and smiled.

"Congratulations on your big day. We won't disturb you any further."

They turned to leave.

"Officer, wait!"

Summoning every ounce of strength, I dragged myself up and staggered toward them.

"I want to report Portia for forging a fake marriage certificate to deceive me into investing heavily in JP Group. The amount involved is huge. Her actions constitute document forgery and fraud—I request a full investigation and that she be held legally accountable!"

The lead officer glanced at Portia, then back at me, his tone casual, almost dismissive.

"Oh? And where is this so-called fake marriage certificate?"

"At my home. I can go back and—"

Before I could finish, he cut me off sharply.

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