The Day My Husband Married His First Love Became the Day I Died

"Camilla Rinaldi is alive. She's at St. Michael's Cemetery, in the arms of the man you all keep praising for his devotion." Gasps ripple through the ballroom. Every head turns toward Alessio. "Alessio has lied to all of you." "For five years, he's pretended to mourn her. He used me and our marriage to cover up their affair! He told the world a living woman was dead, then called his own wife insane." I look out at the crowd. "Don't you all want to know the truth?" My throat burns as I shout the final words. "Camilla Rinaldi is alive!" But when I look at the faces below me, no one looks shocked. No one looks angry. All I see is pity and confusion, along with a few barely concealed smirks. "Is she mentally ill?" someone murmurs. "She must be having an episode." "I heard she's always been unstable." "Poor Don Vescari. Imagine being stuck with a wife like that." Alessio strides toward me, his expression so cold that my stomach drops. Before I can back away, he slaps me across the face. The crack echoes through the ballroom. My head jerks to the side. My ears ring, and blood trickles from the corner of my mouth. No one makes a sound. Alessio looks at me with carefully feigned heartbreak. He takes the microphone from my hand and addresses the room in a low, hoarse voice. "My apologies, everyone. My wife has been ill for a long time. She's having another episode." He clamps a hand around my wrist and squeezes until pain shoots up my arm. Then he looks at his guards. "What are you waiting for?" His next words ring through the silent ballroom. "Take Mrs. Vescari to a psychiatric hospital." In that moment, I finally understand I have the truth in my hands. But the whole world is helping him lie. ... I'm locked in a secure psychiatric ward, where the medical staff inject me with sedatives every day. Alessio comes to see me once. He sits beside my bed, slowly peels an orange, and holds a piece to my lips. "Be a good girl, Sloane, and you can stay Mrs. Vescari." He smiles, but his eyes are full of malice. "Five years ago, you screamed so loudly when that homeless man raped you." My whole body goes rigid. That night is the worst nightmare of my life. Just before our wedding, I was kidnapped from a hotel. Later, I was dumped on the side of the road with my clothes torn open. A crowd gathered around me, and pictures of me spread all over the city. That was when Alessio started calling me filthy. "That was an accident..." My voice shakes. "An accident?" Alessio lets out a quiet laugh. He rises and straightens his suit. "There aren't that many accidents in this world." I stare at him as tears stream down my face. It was him. He was behind it. Even the deepest wound I carry was something he gave me. All so he could justify treating me like dirt and tearing me down until there was nothing left. Once I'm out of the hospital, Alessio brings Camilla into the Vescari estate openly. I'm locked inside and kept under guard. When I walk into the living room, Camilla is wearing my silk robe and lounging across Alessio's lap while he feeds her grapes. "Alessio, listen to this!" I hit play. Wade Mercer's voice comes through the recording, loud and clear. I start smashing everything around me. Glasses, vases, anything I can get my hands on. I must look like the madwoman Alessio has convinced everyone I am, but I don't care. The smile fades from his face. He gives Camilla a reassuring pat and tells her to go upstairs. Then he leans back against the couch and rubs his forehead. "Sloane, what do you get out of digging all this up again?" "What do I get out of it?" I scream until my throat burns. "You had me raped for that woman! You destroyed me! I was your wife!" "I only wanted to scare you into backing off. I didn't expect that idiot to take it so far." His tone is casual, as if we're talking about the weather. "Now that you know, there's no point in pretending anymore." He gets to his feet and walks toward me, his face cold and unapologetic. "Do you have any idea how disgusting it was to watch you spend five years trying to please me? Following me around like a dog, begging for even a little attention?" I stare at him, barely able to breathe. For five years, I did everything I could to make our marriage work. And all that time, he was laughing at me. "If I hadn't been forced to marry you, Camilla and I would have had children by now." He stops in front of me and looks down at me. "So you owe me for that."

After that, Alessio comes up to the attic every morning and evening to drag me downstairs. A black memorial tablet bearing Camilla Rinaldi's name stands in the middle of the living room. The woman it's meant to honor sits just a few feet away, very much alive. "Kneel and apologize." Alessio grips the back of my neck and forces me down onto the cushion in front of the tablet. Camilla watches from the leather couch, swirling her red wine with a mocking smile. "Don't be so hard on her, Alessio," she says sweetly. "Miss Ashford is still your lawful wife, after all." "My lawful wife?" Alessio lets out a cold laugh and drives the toe of his shoe into my back. "She doesn't deserve the title." I stare at Camilla's name on the tablet until something inside me snaps. I jump to my feet, grab it, and smash it against the floor. The wooden tablet shatters with a loud crack, sending splinters flying across the living room. "You're not even dead, Camilla! Are you really that eager to have a memorial?" I scream, my voice echoing through the room. Alessio's face darkens. He grabs me by the hair and drags me toward the basement. Pain tears through my scalp. I struggle to keep my feet under me, but he doesn't slow down. He throws open the heavy door and shoves me inside. "If you can't follow my rules, you can stay down here until you learn." I hit the cold concrete floor hard. Before I can get up, the metal door slams shut behind me. The lock clicks into place. The basement is freezing and pitch-black. There is no food. No water. No one comes when I call for help. I lose track of time. My knees ache against the concrete, and my throat gets so dry that it hurts to swallow. Something rustles in the darkness, but soon I don't have the strength to care. A fever sets in. My thoughts blur, and I drift in and out of consciousness. Three days later, the door finally opens, flooding the basement with light. Alessio walks in and looks down at me. I can't move. He nudges my limp body with the toe of his shoe. Once he sees that I'm still breathing, he says coldly, "You're not even fit to shine Camilla's shoes." Then he turns and walks away. By the time he lets me out, I'm so weak I can barely stand. I start vomiting blood. I lose weight so quickly that my clothes start hanging off me. Walking across a room leaves me struggling to stay on my feet. Eventually, I go to the hospital. The doctor orders several tests. When the results come back, he sits across from me with the report in his hands. The look on his face tells me everything before he even speaks. "It's already at an advanced stage." I look down at the report, but the words blur in front of me. "You have three months at most." I hold the diagnosis in both hands. Then I start laughing. I'm finally going to be free. ... Before I step back into the Vescari estate, I throw my cancer diagnosis into the trash. The moment I walk inside, Alessio and Camilla are discussing their wedding. Alessio looks at me first. He says, "After everything Camilla has been through, she deserves the wedding she was always meant to have. And I'll give it to her on our fifth wedding anniversary." I say nothing. I go upstairs, take out the divorce papers I prepared, and return downstairs with them. "Alessio, I want a divorce."