The Marriage That Wasn't

My wife, Isabel Wilson, had slept with more than a thousand men, yet she still refused to divorce me. Her family called me a useless freeloader who did nothing but live off his wife. The first time I asked Isabel for a divorce was five years ago. She didn't say a word. She simply had me locked inside the house for an entire month. A month later, she threw a positive pregnancy test in my face. Three years ago, I asked for a divorce a second time. Isabel went straight back to her family's home that very night. Right after that, I was reduced to seeing my child once a week. Today was the third time. This time, I could finally be free because I realized that my child didn't love me, and my marriage to Isabel had been a lie all along. I was no different from any of the other men Isabel kept on the side. Chapter 1 My friend used the wedding plans I'd originally created for my own wedding. Back then, I'd spent six months planning every detail. My wife, Isabel Wilson, had taken one minute to reject it all. After a simple wedding ceremony, Isabel made me a promise. No matter how much she fooled around with other men, I would always be her only husband. Until today, when she showed up at this wedding with her male secretary, Bishop Hart. The moment I walked into the reception, heads turned in every direction. Some people were waiting for a show. Some were eager for gossip. Others looked at me with pity. Only Isabel remained perfectly unconcerned. "You're here." I looked at the young Bishop clinging intimately to her arm and nodded calmly. We'd been married for seven years. This was hardly the first time Isabel had cheated on me. The groom, Samuel Ashley, looked awkward. Clearly, he hadn't expected this either. "Robert, you're here. Come on, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable." I smiled at him, grateful that he'd tried to smooth things over. Bishop was already sitting in my assigned seat, and with Isabel backing him, there was nothing I could do about it. She glanced at me and said casually, "Someone's sitting in your seat. Find another one." After years of giving in without a fight, going along with whatever Isabel wanted had become second nature. "Okay." The moment I sat down, I could feel the stares around me growing even more blatant. Samuel was clearly sorry. Before he left, he even asked his family to look after me. Compared to Isabel, even he cared more about how I felt. The wedding began as planned. Samuel wore the suit I'd designed and walked down the aisle I'd chosen. He had found the happiness I'd never had. Everything was exactly as I'd once dreamed it would be. Bishop, who was clinging to Isabel's arm, was young, with an innocent, lively expression. "I've heard from Isabel that you're great around the house, Robert. She said you even personally clean the heels she wears. Think you could clean mine too?" The atmosphere at the table instantly froze. Everyone exchanged uneasy looks, but no one dared say a word. I set down my fork and instinctively looked at Isabel. She affectionately ruffled Bishop's hair, then tipped her chin at me and ordered, "What are you waiting for? Go!" I met the mockery in her eyes and smiled, suddenly at peace. Pushing back my chair, I stood and headed for the exit. "Hurry up," Isabel added. I didn't answer, and I never broke stride. I walked out of the reception hall, through the hotel entrance, and all the way to the street. Not once did I look back. The family driver wasn't around, so I simply kept walking down the road. When I passed a trash can, I yanked the designer tie from around my neck and tossed it in. The instant I breathed in the fresh air again, it felt as though the shackles around me had finally disappeared. After seven years of marriage, I finally felt relieved. I'd barely gotten home when Isabel called. "How long does it take to get something to clean a pair of shoes? Don't you know Bishop's waiting for you?" I almost laughed. "I never agreed to clean his shoes. And I'm already home." Isabel scoffed. "Robert, you've gotten bold, haven't you?" Chapter 2 "Yeah." To Isabel's surprise, I agreed. Her breathing quickened for a couple of seconds on the other end of the line before Isabel gave an angry laugh. "Fine, Robert. You've got some nerve." I couldn't be bothered to say anything else, so I hung up. Elsa Chase, the housekeeper, was already packing my things for me. "Sir, are you sure you don't want any of these?" Standing in the walk-in closet, she looked at the wall of custom suits and watches. Isabel had bought them specifically for me to wear to formal events. She had said, "Robert, I don't care what you were like before. But now that you've married into the Wilson family, you need to cover up that poor, shabby look of yours. Don't embarrass me." I shook my head, my voice light. "I don't want any of the designer clothes or formalwear. Just pack whatever else belongs to me." Elsa looked uncomfortable. "Sir... other than these, there doesn't seem to be much for you to pack." I froze for a moment, then couldn't help laughing. She was right. In the seven years since I'd married into Isabel's family, there had never been much that truly belonged to me. In that enormous house, the only space I could really call mine was half the bed in our bedroom. Isabel didn't come home that night, and I slept well. The next morning, I picked up my packed luggage and prepared to leave. I left nothing behind except a snow globe. It was the only gift Isabel had ever given me, from the time we started dating all the way through our marriage. I'd just moved to Ashford for college when Isabel and I fell in love at first sight. Back then, she was straightforward and passionate. Every day, she'd wait along the route I took back to campus just so she could talk to me for a few minutes. She'd given me the snow globe around that time. She told me it was the first time she'd ever bought something without using her family's money, and that she'd worked a part-time job for three days to afford it. She said the snow inside the globe would never melt, and neither would her love for me. Well, I didn't want her love anymore. After leaving the Wilson house, I checked into a hotel. Less than a day later, Isabel called. "Robert, where the hell did you go? Get back here and clean up your junk!" I replied calmly, "I don't want it anymore. Just throw it away." Isabel went silent, then asked me again, "Robert, are you serious?" "Yeah." My voice was light. I genuinely didn't care anymore. "Throw it out. It's not important anyway." That seemed to hit a nerve. "Not important? Don't you remember that I—" I scoffed and cut her off, "That you worked for three days to earn the money for it? That snow globe retailed for sixty-five dollars. Ms. Wilson, what kind of part-time job pays that little for three days of work?" I'd learned the truth one night after we were married, when Isabel got drunk. She had said, "I picked up some random snow globe and fooled you with it. Robert, you're ridiculously gullible. And cheap." That was when I realized Isabel hadn't changed. She'd simply stopped bothering to pretend. After hanging up, I went to the law firm where I'd made an appointment. After hearing about my situation, Michelle Faulkner, the attorney, looked troubled. “Mr. Carroll, I'm sure you understand that with the Wilson family's influence, getting out of this marriage without a fight would be nearly impossible.” Of course, I knew that. That was why I was willing to give up everything I was entitled to. "What if I don't ask for any assets? I can walk away with nothing." Michelle's expression eased somewhat, though she still hesitated. "Does Ms. Wilson want a divorce too?" I shook my head, my face going pale. This wasn't the first time I'd tried to leave Isabel. The first time I'd asked for a divorce was five years ago. Isabel hadn't said a word. She'd simply kept me confined to the house for an entire month. Chapter 3 A month later, Isabel found out she was pregnant. Three years ago, I asked for a divorce a second time. Isabel went straight back to her family's estate that very night. Right after that, I was allowed to see our son, Noah, only once a week. For seven years, Isabel had always known exactly where my weaknesses were. She knew how to make sure I couldn't let go and couldn't get away. Today was the third time. Maybe Michelle felt sorry for me, because she agreed to take my case after all. But when she took the marriage certificate I'd handed her, her eyes widened. "Mr. Carroll, this marriage certificate... is fake. You and Ms. Wilson were never actually married." "What?" I shot to my feet, convinced I'd misheard her. "How could our marriage certificate be fake? Look at it again!" Michelle adjusted her glasses and examined it carefully. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carroll. This certificate really is fake." "Hah." I laughed, even as tears slipped uncontrollably down my face. Seven years. 2,555 days. Every single day, I asked myself the same questions hundreds of times. Why had I trusted Isabel? Why had I agreed to marry her? Why had I married into the cold-blooded, merciless Wilson family, a place that seemed to swallow people whole? It had taken me seven years to see reality for what it was and six years to gather the courage to divorce her. And now Michelle was telling me that Isabel and I had never actually been married at all. No wonder the Wilsons had always called me a pathetic nobody who wasn't fit to be seen with them. So that was it... I really was no different from any of the other men Isabel kept on the side. I wiped away my tears and thanked the kind Michelle. If we'd never been married, leaving would be much simpler. There was just one person I still couldn't let go of—Noah. Noah was Isabel's and my son. He was five years old now. When she gave birth to him, Isabel had suffered complications and nearly died on the operating table. The doctor asked me who they should save if it came down to Isabel or the baby. Without hesitation, I dropped to my knees and begged the doctor again and again to save them both. Later, Isabel suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the hospital couldn't get enough blood in time. For the two of them, I let the doctors draw a full liter of my blood, and I passed out right there in the hospital room. When I woke up again, two days had passed. I struggled out of bed, desperate to see my wife and child, only to be forcibly stopped by the Wilson family. They told me, "Robert, the boy may be yours, but he's a Wilson, not a Carroll. Don't forget, you're just some poor kid who crawled out of the middle of nowhere. If he stays with you, people will look down on him just like they look down on you." No matter how badly I wanted my son, I endured it for the sake of a better life for him. But so many nights, I'd wake in the darkness and stare at the name I'd carefully chosen for him on my phone, my eyes burning with tears. Whenever Isabel happened to wake because of me, she'd send me a video of him. Those videos were what got me through the next three years. It wasn't until Noah turned three that Isabel's mother, Veronica Wilson, finally agreed to let me see him once a week. Today was supposed to be one of those days. When I arrived at the family estate, it was quiet. I stood outside calling for someone for more than ten minutes, but no one opened the door. Yes. After seven years of marrying into the Wilson family, I still wasn't allowed to come and go from their family home as I pleased. A passing member of the staff took pity on me and told me Isabel had taken Noah out early that morning. I gave a bitter smile. I knew exactly what this was. Isabel was punishing me. For years, whenever I disobeyed her in even the smallest way, she wouldn't let me see Noah. And every time, I'd been forced to give in, trading my dignity for a chance to see my son. I took a deep breath. For Noah, I called Isabel anyway. "Hello? Daddy!" That familiar little voice came through the phone. My eyes instantly filled with tears, and my heart softened. Chapter 4 This was my child. "Noah, when are you coming back? Daddy misses you." There was a lot of noise on the other end, as though they were at an amusement park. Even so, I picked out Noah's voice immediately. "But I don't want to see you, Daddy." The tears in my eyes seemed to freeze. I couldn't believe what I'd heard. "Noah, what did you say?" His voice was as clear and bright as ever, but his words struck me straight in the heart. "I said I don't want to see you, Daddy." My grip tightened around my phone. I took a deep breath. "I know you're having fun right now. Keep playing, and when you're done, come see me, okay? No matter how long it takes, I can wait." Noah didn't hesitate. He was every bit as cold as his mother. "No. Mommy said you made her mad. You're a bad daddy! I don't want to see you. Don't come looking for me anymore. I don't like you as my daddy!" The call ended. When the call ended, something in me finally died too. So my child didn't love me either, just like his mother. Fine. Now I could finally leave without anything holding me back. Back at the hotel, I booked a flight home for the next day. Before bed, I saw a post from Isabel on social media. It was a photo of three people at an amusement park. Bishop was with them—the same man Isabel had brought to the wedding. Noah was nestled against Isabel, sharing a three-flavor ice cream with Bishop. The caption read: [My son loves it.] There wasn't a single like on the post. I understood immediately. Isabel had posted it specifically for me. I was the only person who could see it. Whenever we'd fought in the past, she'd post something about our son just like this. It was her way of warning me to back down for his sake. Every time, I'd done exactly what she wanted, laying my dignity at her feet and letting her humiliate me. Looking back, Isabel had known exactly how to control me from the moment I'd dropped to my knees and begged the doctors to save her and our child. Fortunately, that wouldn't work on me anymore. I liked the post, put my phone down, and went to sleep. In the middle of the night, Isabel's call woke me. "Robert, what kind of father are you? Do you have any idea how long Noah waited for you? He's still crying!" I rubbed my eyes and answered casually, "Oh. Then tell him I'm sorry." There was silence on the other end for two seconds before Isabel gave a cold laugh. "Robert, do you believe me when I say I can make sure you never see Noah again?" The threat in her voice was unmistakable, but I wasn't the same Robert who would bow his head again and again for the sake of his child. "Sure." I stared at the ceiling, my voice distant. I heard Isabel swallow on the other end. "Robert, what did you just say?" I sat up and casually pushed aside the hotel comforter. "Sure. You're Noah's mother. Do whatever you want." I heard something shatter on her end of the line. "Robert, I'm giving you one last chance. Take back what you just said. Otherwise, I'll take Noah out of the country tomorrow, and you'll never see him again." I backed out of the call screen and opened my photos. 213 videos. More than a thousand photos. I'd watched every single one countless times. I took a deep breath and deleted the entire album. Suddenly, I didn't want to wait anymore. "Isabel, we were never actually married, were we?" The other end went abruptly silent. I lowered my eyes and continued without waiting for an answer, "Since we were never married, there's no need for a divorce. Let's break up." I hung up. The next second, someone pounded hard on my hotel room door.