Chapter 2: The Woman Named Emily
I didn't drive home.
I drove three miles down the road and pulled into the parking lot of an all-night diner.
My hands were still shaking.
I placed Nathan’s phone on the table and stared at it like it was a weapon.
The waitress approached.
“Coffee?””
“Yes.””
“Anything else?””
I swallowed.
“No. Just coffee.””
She walked away.
I opened the messages again.
I read everything slowly.
Nathan and Diane had been discussing me for months.
Not as a wife.
As a problem.
A financial problem.
A legal problem.
A woman who had to be managed.
Then I found the conversation with Emily.
The first message was from Nathan.
*You don't have to worry. She believes everything.*
Emily replied:
*When are you finally leaving her?*
Nathan:
*Soon. Mom says the inheritance is enough to make it worth waiting.*
My chest tightened.
The waitress returned with my coffee.
“You okay, honey?””
I forced a smile.
“I'm fine.””
She looked at my soaked shirt.
“You don't look fine.””
“I've had a bad day.””
She nodded and left.
I kept scrolling.
Emily had sent photographs.
A woman with dark hair.
A small diamond ring.
A restaurant table.
Then one photograph stopped me.
Nathan was standing behind Emily with his arms around her waist.
On her finger was the same style of wedding band he had given me.
My wedding band.
Or what I had believed was my wedding band.
The message underneath said:
*Our real anniversary is next month. I can't wait to make this official.*
I put the phone down.
A minute later, it buzzed.
Nathan.
I watched his name flash across the screen.
I didn't answer.
He called again.
Then again.
Finally, a message appeared.
*Where are you?*
I typed:
*At home.*
Three dots appeared immediately.
*Don't lie to me.*
I stared at the words.
For years, Nathan had always known when I was lying.
Because he had trained me to think honesty was something I owed him, while he owed me nothing.
I didn't reply.
Instead, I opened the browser and searched for the county clerk’s office.
If Nathan had lied about our marriage, there had to be a record.
The next morning, I walked into the courthouse wearing yesterday's clothes.
A clerk behind the counter looked up.
“Can I help you?””
“I need a certified copy of my marriage record.””
“Name?””
“Rachel Carter.””
She typed.
“Spouse?””
“Nathan Carter.””
Her fingers stopped.
She looked at the screen.
Then at me.
“Are you sure?””
My stomach dropped.
“Yes.””
She typed again.
“I'm sorry. I don't have a marriage record under those names.””
I gripped the counter.
“That can't be right.””
She searched my maiden name.
Nothing.
Nathan’s name.
Several records appeared.
But none with me.
“Maybe the county is wrong,” she said.
“We were married at St. Andrew's Church.””
She searched again.
Then she frowned.
“Ma'am, there is a marriage license involving Nathan Carter from six years ago.””
My heart began pounding.
“Who was it?””
She hesitated.
“Rachel Morgan.””
My maiden name.
I almost laughed from relief.
“That’s me.””
She shook her head.
“No. The bride is listed as Rachel Morgan Carter.””
I stared at her.
“I was Rachel Morgan before I married Nathan.””
The clerk turned her monitor slightly.
“According to this record, you were married to Nathan six years ago.””
“Yes.””
“And that marriage was dissolved two years later.””
My mouth went dry.
“Dissolved?””
She nodded.
“Divorce.””
I couldn't speak.
She printed the record.
The date of the divorce was exactly one month before the ceremony I remembered.
The ceremony Nathan had called our wedding.
The ceremony my family had attended.
The ceremony where he had slipped a ring onto my finger and promised forever.
I looked down at the paper.
My name was there.
Nathan’s was there.
And beneath them:
*Divorce finalized.*
Someone had legally ended our marriage.
Without me knowing.
I heard footsteps behind me.
Then a familiar voice.
“Rachel.””
I turned.
Nathan stood across the courthouse lobby.
His face was pale.
Beside him was a woman with dark hair.
Emily.
She smiled nervously.
Nathan whispered something to her.
She looked at me.
Then at the divorce record in my hand.
Her expression collapsed.
“Nathan,” she whispered, “you said she didn't know.””
He closed his eyes.
And in that moment, I realized something even worse.
Emily wasn't the other woman.
May you like
She was the woman Nathan had legally married after divorcing me.
Without telling me.
