Another Wife On My Wedding Novel by WriterLola _ Novel





Another Wife On My Wedding Chapter 01

With the big day fast approaching, Sebastian Sterling was holding the wedding invitations, checking the guest list with me. 
Then, without warning, he spoke. 
“Legally, I already have a wife.” 
“As long as you don’t mind… the wedding invitations go out as planned, and the wedding proceeds as usual.” 
He lit a cigarette nonchalantly. 
He offered a perfunctory explanation: 
“My family forced her on me years ago.” 
“Since I took her in, I have to be responsible.” 
My mind went blank. 
It took a long while to find my voice. 
“Then what were the last six years… to us?” 
“Consider me a bastard.” 
He tapped the ash from his cigarette. 
“Now, it’s your choice.” 
My hand, resting on my lower abdomen, trembled slightly. 
Inside was a surprise I had planned to tell him about today… 
The unrehearsed truth slammed into my face, making my chest tighten. 
“But for six years, you never mentioned it once…” 
He had been so diligent that I never suspected another life was hidden behind that veil of tenderness. 
Sebastian exhaled a puff of smoke. “What difference would mentioning it make?”  
The corners of his mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 
Yet, it carried an inexplicable certainty.  
“Eleanor Vance, we don’t need those formalities between us.” 
Don’t need formalities? 
I looked at the unsent wedding invitations in my hand. 
So his initial reluctance to hold a wedding wasn’t pragmatism. 
It was fear that his bigamy would be exposed to the world. 
My stomach churned. 
I rushed into the bathroom to dry heave. 
“There’s no need to overreact like that!” 
Sebastian followed, gently patting my back. 
“She’s just a girl my relatives in the countryside pushed on me before I met you.” 
“She’s uneducated and unwilling to learn.” 
She served my parents back in our hometown for a few years, and I brought her here last year. 
I just set her up somewhere in the city.” 
Sebastian paused. “I see her once or twice a month and give her some living expenses.” 
I turned to look at him. 
He stood there, tall and upright, dressed in a suit and leather shoes. 
It was the image of the man I had loved for six years. 
But right now, the indifference in his eyes made me go cold all over. 
“So for the past six years, every time you said you were going home to visit your parents, you were actually…” 
“Going to see her.” 
He answered calmly, “My parents are getting old; someone has to take care of them. 
She does an okay job.” 
Does an okay job. 
I wanted to laugh, but the corners of my mouth were too heavy to lift. 
Six years, over two thousand days and nights. 
He had countless times, countless opportunities to deal with this relationship. 
To deal with her, or to deal with me.  
Yet he chose to stand in the middle, calmly enjoying a double portion of stability. 
A faint cramping pain came from my lower abdomen again. 
I subconsciously pressed my hand against it. 
Sebastian’s gaze fell on my hand, and his brow furrowed slightly. 
“You look pale.” 
He walked over, reaching his hand toward my forehead. 
I jerked back, my spine slamming against the cold tiles. 
“Don’t touch me.” 
His hand froze in mid–air. 
His phone rang at that moment. 
He glanced at the screen and declined the call. 
It rang again, and he declined it again. 
When it rang a third time, he clicked his tongue and picked up. 
Broken, quiet sobbing came from the other end of the line. 
“Sebastian… I won’t take my medicine… I’ll get better if you just come see me…” 
Sebastian rubbed the space between his brows: “Enough, I’ll send my assistant over.” 
Hanging up the phone, he looked at me, his tone softening: “She’s always been in poor health. She’s high–mainte- nance,” 
I didn’t speak; I just looked at him. 
Over the past six years, this scene had played out countless times. 
His phone was always ringing non–stop. 
I used to say it so understandingly: 
“You go ahead with your work.” 
It turned out that in those moments… 
The hurried late–night departures. 
The broken promises on holidays. 
Some of that time was being devoted to another “wife.”  
I let out a broken laugh as tears rolled down my face. 
“Take me to see her.” 
“There’s no need.” 
His face darkened. 
“No need?” 
I grabbed the guest list and slammed it onto the floor. “Six years! 
All my youth, all my expectations–they were all for you! 
And now you’re asking me to choose? 
Choose what? 
Choose whether to keep being the mistress?  
He looked at the papers scattered across the floor. “No one is a mistress.  
I kept it from you because I wanted to give you a future. You haven’t wronged anyone; you don’t need to feel guilty.” 
This speech, which sounded almost ‘noble,‘ made me physically sick. 
“Eleanor, my feelings for you are real.” 
“And what about her?” 
I pressed. 
He remained silent for a long time. 
Finally, he said, “Just responsibility.” 
Responsibility. 
That word, so light and airy. 
Yet it crushed the faith I had held for six years. 
The phone buzzed again; this time, it was mine. 
The voice on speakerphone cut clearly through the dead silence of the room: 
[Eleanor, dear, Mom has sent out all the wedding invitations! 
The relatives are all saying how capable Sebastian is, saying how lucky you are!] 
I choked back the urge to cry: [Mom, I have something to do. I have to go!]  
The call ended, and the man’s cruelly calm voice rang out, “The invitations are sent, the hotel is booked, the wedding photos are taken.” 
He paused. “I’ve given you every ceremony you wanted.” 
I looked up at him: “What are you trying to say? 
Are you trying to blackmail me with this? To make me keep playing deaf and dumb, to go through with this three- person wedding?” 
“I’m not blackmailing you.” 
He walked to the window, turning his back to me. “I told you, you can choose whether to continue or not!” 
“You just need to think clearly. Six years of feelings, the future we planned together, the expectations of your mother and friends… is it worth throwing it all away just because of a piece of paper?” 
A piece of paper… I almost laughed until I cried. 
“She is a person, Sebastian! A living, breathing wife recognized by law! 
It’s not just a question of a piece of paper!” 
He turned around, his face expressionless, as if I were just obsessing over some trivial detail. 
“Then what do you want?” 
He asked, “You want me to go back right now and ask her for a divorce?” 
I choked on my words. 
My heart slammed painfully against my ribs. 
“So you mean… as long as she’s alive, I can only ever be the one in the shadows? 
Even if we have a wedding and become husband and wife in everyone’s eyes, I’ll always be living alongside your marriage certificate, waiting for you to find time every month to go ‘fulfill your duties“?” 
Sebastian looked at me in silence for a long while before slowly exhaling. 
“You’re being too extreme. I’ve never kept you in the shadows. 
Once the wedding is done, you will be my, Sebastian’s, rightful wife. Only you will bear my children. 
She won’t appear in our social circles; she won’t affect your life. 
You don’t even need to meet.” 
His tone sounded like he was making a concession. 
“My heart only holds you. I will give you everything I can possibly give.”  
Everything he could give… but that didn’t include loyalty, and it didn’t include a future without a third person.  

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