Married To A Lie

For five years of our marriage, Matthew Spark was my entire world. I abandoned my career, severed ties with my family, and molded myself into the perfect wife for him.

I believed our love was unshakable, and that our marriage certificate was the ultimate proof of it.

Until the day I saw him with my own eyes—holding another woman in his arms as he stepped into our home.

“Ava, let me introduce you,” he said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather.

“This is Sophie Spears, and her daughter, Ella. They’ll be living here from now on.”

I froze.

I had seen her face before—tucked in the drawer of his desk, in his wallet, even as the wallpaper on his phone. And in that instant, I realized the cruel truth: I was the unnecessary outsider. The interloper.

The greater insult came when I confronted him.

He calmly produced a marriage certificate—his and Sophie’s marriage was three months before ours.

That was the moment I learned my marriage had been nothing but a farce. That I wasn’t even significant enough to be a mistress.

And in that moment, I laughed.

Oh, Matthew. Did you forget who the largest investor in Spark Enterprise was?

I only realized my five-year marriage was a farce on the day my husband, Matthew Spark, nearly killed me.

“As the head of the household, I order you to eat it!”

Matthew seized my wrist and shoved the slice of chocolate cake into my mouth.

He knew. He had to know I was severely allergic to cocoa.

“Please, Matthew! I’ll go into shock!”

I struggled with all my strength, trying to push his hand away.

“Oh, give me a break!” he sneered, his other hand gripping my chin and forcing my mouth open.

Sophie Spears stood to the side, her eyes slightly red.

“Forget it, Matthew. If Ava doesn’t like it, that’s fine… It’s just not good enough for her.”

“No, darling, this isn’t your fault,” Matthew said as he released me and turned to comfort her.

“It’s Ava who doesn’t know what’s good for her.”

The taste of chocolate flooded my mouth.

My throat began to swell, and every breath grew more labored.

I collapsed onto the floor, my fingernails scraping grooves into the hardwood.

“Get… meds in… my bag…” I pointed desperately toward my handbag on the kitchen counter.

Matthew didn’t even glance at it.

“Still pretending, are we? Get up. Stop making a scene.”

My vision blurred, as my ragged breaths roared in my ears.

I was going into anaphylactic shock.

In my fading consciousness, I heard Sophie say from far away, “I’m feeling a little tired. Shall we go upstairs?”

Then came the endless dark.

…

When I woke, my throat felt as though it had been scorched by fire. The harsh white of the emergency room ceiling burned my eyes.

“Thank heaven you’re awake!” A nurse exclaimed as she rushed over to check my vitals.

“When you arrived, you