A soft chuckle escaped him. “You’re amazing, babe. Love you.”
The line went dead before I could respond.
I already knew he wasn’t attending any investor dinner. I had a feeling Livia was the “opportunity” he kept referring to.
What I didn’t know yet was why he constantly needed my money.
Gabriel Smith—Sebastian’s father—had cut him off after his latest failed investment. No inheritance, no financial backing, nothing. Rather than rebuild on his own, Sebastian turned to me. My name. My finances. My trust.
And when I finally reached my limit and decided to file for divorce, life found yet another way to humiliate me.
I went to the registrar’s office to request a copy of our marriage certificate.
The clerk, a young woman with gentle eyes, studied her screen and frowned. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t find any record of your marriage to Mr. Sebastian Smith.”
I blinked, confused. “That doesn’t make sense. We had a church wedding. All the paperwork was submitted.”
She hesitated, typing again before speaking carefully. “Ma’am… Mr. Smith is married, but not to you.”
My throat went dry. “What are you saying?”