Trading A Fake Marriage For A Real Vow

The insurance agent spoke plainly over the phone. "Ms. Jones, our records show you are not Mr. Davies' wife. I'm afraid we can't handle the claim since you are not listed as his spouse." Helena Jones had gotten into a car accident on her drive to Bryson Davies' company that day. A Mercedes slammed into her from behind. The other driver, knowing the stretch of road had no surveillance cameras, flipped the story and boldly demanded one hundred thousand dollars to settle privately. Bryson's line remained unreachable no matter how many times she tried. Helena pressed her mouth tight, then dialed the insurance company as her only option. She and Bryson got married two years ago. And the car belonged to him. Filing a claim should have been easy. For a second, Helena wondered if she had misheard the person from the other end of the line. "Could there be a mistake in your records?" she asked, her voice unsteady. "The system is accurate. It lists Mr. Davies' legal wife as a woman named Charlee Jones. Not you," the agent replied, a trace of impatience creeping into his tone. Helena's grip went slack at that. The phone slipped from her fingers and hit the ground. The line cut off on its own. An icy sensation climbed from her feet. Her face drained of color, as if someone had struck her. Charlee. That name was too familiar to her. Helena's and Bryson's families had arranged their engagement back when they were just kids. When she boarded her flight for overseas studies, Bryson had slipped past security, dashed along the runway beside the accelerating plane, and called out loudly that he would wait until she came back, no matter how long it took. Over those three years away, he had made the long trip to see her every time his schedule opened up. Right after getting her degree, she hurried home full of excitement to give him a surprise. She turned the handle of his office door to open it, only to see a woman with a gentle, innocent face resting on his lap, her cheeks warm with shyness, while she let him kiss her deeply without pulling away. Once the kiss ended, Bryson's look hardened into something distant and closed off. "Only because you carry a slight resemblance to her that I allowed you near me." That woman turned out to be Charlee. She had grown up as the adopted daughter in the Jones family, making her Helena's adopted younger sister. When the affair was exposed, Bryson flipped to frantic apologies, begging Helena to forgive him with the kind of desperation that looked ready to bring him to his knees. He kept repeating that Charlee meant nothing more than a temporary substitute for her, insisting he never crossed the line with Charlee. Everything she had seen that day, he chalked up completely to being far too drunk. Back then, Helena refused to accept even the smallest hint of dishonesty, so she brushed aside his explanations and pushed hard to cancel the engagement for good. Bryson, who usually carried himself with cold arrogance, planted himself day and night at her door, saying soft, earnest pleas in a humbled voice. But she still didn't forgive him. Then, everything changed one night when a business rival kidnapped her and locked her inside a rundown warehouse far outside the city. Bryson charged straight to the place, diving into the burning building without hesitation. He covered her body with his own to stop a heavy falling steel beam from crushing her and took terrible injuries that left him fighting for life in the hospital for almost six full months. That single act tore down the walls around her heart. When Bryson was finally discharged from the hospital, she gave in and said yes to marrying him. The wedding became the talk of Glurora, with everyone gossiping about how Bryson had finally chosen to settle. In all the two years since, no rumor of another woman ever surfaced. Bryson came home before ten every night without exception, and even on work trips, he never skipped the evening video call, always treating her like she sat at the center of his world. The memories of all that kept replaying in Helena's head. She felt her legs fold under her. She dropped straight down to the ground and pressed both hands against her face while cold sweat coated her shaking fingers. At that moment, Bryson seemed like someone she had never truly known. The big, rough driver who caused the crash had already lost every bit of patience. He spat on the ground and said, "This is something else! Thirty years of my life, and I finally see a mistress bold enough to try taking the wife's spot! Cut the delay. Pay the money right now!" Ice flashed through Helena's eyes even as a bitter, silent laugh rose inside her. The whole thing felt ridiculous beyond words. She had worn the title of Bryson's wife for two complete years, and only in this moment did she realize that their marriage was fake. She rubbed her face roughly. Wet hair already stuck to her forehead from the chill sweat. When her voice came again, it sounded steady and clear. "Call the police."