The Unseen Wife, The Unloved Fiancée

I thought my boyfriend of three years, Jaxon Tate, was my soulmate. Our life was perfect. Tonight, while borrowing his phone to order dinner, I accidentally opened his notes app.

That's when I found "Denzel's List." Denzel was his older brother, who died two years ago. The list contained 400 tasks.

"Take Elfrieda Stewart to the movies for my brother."

"Propose to Elfrieda Stewart for my brother."

"Love Elfrieda for the rest of her life for my brother."

Before I could even breathe, he took a call on the balcony from a woman named Janice. His secret wife.

"Of course, I love you," I heard him tell her. "Marrying Elfrieda is just... a business transaction. It's to honor Denzel's dying wish."

My world shattered. Our entire three-year relationship was a lie. Every "I love you," every touch was just an item on a checklist. I wasn't his soulmate; I was a task to be completed for a dead man. I was the other woman, and I didn't even know it.

He came back inside, smiling his perfect, fake smile. "Sorry about that, a crisis at the office." He then suggested a trip to see the northern lights, another item I was sure was on his list.

As he leaned in to kiss me, I picked up my own phone and sent a text to my brother.

"Can you come get me? I need to come home."

Chapter 1

The soft glow of the lamp filled the living room. I leaned my head against Jaxon Tate's shoulder, the scent of his cologne a familiar comfort. We had been together for three years, and tonight, like many nights, felt perfect.

"What should we order for dinner?" I asked, reaching for his phone on the coffee table. "I'm thinking Thai."

"Whatever you want, El," he murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm.

I unlocked his phone, his screen background a smiling photo of us in Paris. My heart felt full. I tapped on the food delivery app, but my thumb slipped, closing the app and revealing his home screen. A notes app icon had a red notification badge on it.

Curiosity got the better of me. It was probably just a grocery list. I opened it.

The title of the note was "Denzel's List." Denzel was his older brother, who had passed away two years ago. My eyes scanned the contents, and a strange feeling washed over me.

1. Take Elfrieda Stewart to the movies for my brother.

2. Cook Elfrieda Stewart her favorite pasta for my brother.

3. Buy Elfrieda Stewart the violin she wanted for my brother.

...

157. Propose to Elfrieda Stewart for my brother.

...

319. Marry Elfrieda Stewart for my brother.

400. Love Elfrieda Stewart for the rest of her life for my brother.

There were 400 tasks. Every single one was about me. And every single one ended with the same four words: "for my brother."

The air in the room suddenly felt thin. My hands started to tremble. This wasn't a to-do list. It was a script. A set of instructions.

"What's wrong?" Jaxon asked, his voice pulling me from my daze. "You look pale."

I quickly locked the phone and placed it back on the table, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Nothing. Just... thinking about a sad part in a movie I watched."

The lie tasted bitter in my mouth. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't process the meaning behind that list. Was our entire relationship just an obligation? A promise to a dead man?

He didn't press further. He just pulled me closer, his embrace feeling like a cage. "Don't worry about it. Let's just order the food."

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and his expression shifted. It was a subtle change, a flicker of something I couldn't name, but it made my stomach clench.

"I have to take this," he said, getting up and walking toward the balcony. "It's work."

I watched him slide the glass door shut, but it didn't click. A small gap remained. I couldn't help myself. I crept closer to the door, my body moving on its own.

His voice was low, but I could hear every word clearly.

"Janice, I told you not to call me when I'm with her."

Janice. The name hit me like a physical blow. His college sweetheart. The one he always said was a closed chapter, that they had ended things amicably years ago and hadn't spoken since.

"I know, Jaxon, but I miss you," a woman's voice, tinny through the phone, replied. "When are you going to be done with this? When are you going to tell her?"

"Soon," Jaxon's voice was strained. "I'm almost done with the list. I'll propose soon, just like Denzel wanted. Once we're married, I can fulfill the last item on the list, and then I'm done. My duty will be fulfilled."

A pause. Then Janice's voice again, sharp and possessive. "You love me, right? Not her."

"Of course, I love you," Jaxon sighed, and his words shattered what was left of my world. "You're the only one I've ever loved. Marrying Elfrieda is just... a business transaction. It's to honor Denzel's dying wish. He wanted her to be happy, to be taken care of."

"And what about my happiness?" Janice whined.

"You are my happiness," Jaxon said, his voice softening. "You're my wife, Janice. Nothing will ever change that."

Wife.

The word echoed in the silent room. It bounced off the walls and back into my ears, a deafening ring.

My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the floor, a silent scream trapped in my throat. My vision blurred, the cozy living room twisting into a distorted nightmare. Three years. Three years of love, of shared dreams, of believing I had found my soulmate.

It was all a lie.

Every "I love you," every tender touch, every thoughtful gift-it was all from the list. It was all for his brother. He wasn't my loving boyfriend. He was an actor, playing a part for a dead audience. And Janice... they were already married. I was the other woman, and I didn't even know it.

Jaxon slid the balcony door open and stepped back inside, a bright, false smile on his face.

"Sorry about that. A crisis at the office."

I looked up at him from the floor, my face wet with tears I hadn't realized were falling. I must have looked a mess, but I forced my expression into a neutral mask.

"Are you okay?" he asked, rushing to my side and trying to help me up. "Did you fall?"

His touch felt like fire on my skin. I flinched away. "I'm fine. Just got a cramp in my leg."

I let him help me to the couch, my body a dead weight. My mind was racing, trying to piece everything together.

"I've already ordered the food," he said, sitting next to me and taking my hand. His hand was warm, but all I could feel was the icy chill of his betrayal. "And I was thinking, we should go to Norway next month. You've always wanted to see the northern lights."

Item 234: Take Elfrieda Stewart to see the northern lights for my brother. I didn't need to see the list again to know it was on there. The thought made me want to be sick.

"That sounds... nice," I managed to say, my voice hollow.

He smiled, satisfied with my answer. "Great. I'll handle all the arrangements."

His phone buzzed again. A text message this time. He angled the screen away from me, but not quickly enough. I saw the name 'My Wife' and a message preview: "Don't forget the medicine for my 'headache.' And I found the perfect wedding bands for our real ceremony."

He quickly typed a reply and stood up. "Hey, I just remembered, I need to run an errand for my mom. I'll be back in an hour, okay? The food should be here soon."

He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head so his lips landed on my cheek. He didn't seem to notice. He just grabbed his keys and walked out the door, leaving me alone in the ruins of my life.

I sat there, motionless, for a long time. Then, I picked up my own phone. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely type. I went to Janice's social media profile. It was private, but her profile picture was a recent one. She was standing on a beach, her arm linked with a man whose face was turned away from the camera.

But I knew that posture. I knew the line of that shoulder, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. It was Jaxon. And on Janice's left hand, a simple, elegant wedding band gleamed in the sun.

The photo was dated six months ago. Six months into their secret marriage. Six months while he was still telling me he loved me.

My mind flashed back to how we met. He was Denzel's best friend. After Denzel got sick, I would visit him in the hospital. Jaxon was always there. He was so kind, so attentive, not just to Denzel, but to me. He brought me coffee. He made sure I ate. He held me when I cried after Denzel passed.

I thought he saw me, really saw me. I thought he fell in love with the woman I was.

But it was all part of the plan. Item number one on that list was probably "Comfort Elfrieda Stewart after my brother's death for my brother."

The pain was so immense, it felt like my chest was caving in. I had given him my heart, my trust, my future. I had turned down a scholarship to a prestigious music conservatory in Europe to stay here with him. For him. For this lie.

I scrolled through my own photos. Us in Paris. Us at the beach. Us celebrating my birthday. In every picture, he was smiling, looking at me with what I thought was love. Now, all I could see was the performance. All I could feel was the profound, soul-crushing emptiness of being a substitute, a task to be completed.

I knew I had to leave. I couldn't stay another second in this house built on deceit.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my brother, Jameel.

"Hey, El, what's up?" his cheerful voice answered.

Tears choked me, and I could barely speak. "Jameel... can you come get me?"

His tone changed instantly. "What happened? Where are you? I'm on my way."

"I'm at Jaxon's," I sobbed. "Just... please come get me. I need to come home."

The next morning, I woke up in my childhood bedroom. The familiar floral wallpaper and collection of old stuffed animals should have been comforting, but my heart felt like a hollow space in my chest. I had told my family a vague version of the truth-that Jaxon had been dishonest. I couldn't bring myself to say the words "secret wife."

My phone buzzed with a text from Jaxon. "Morning, beautiful. Thinking of you. Let's go look at engagement rings today."

Bile rose in my throat. He was moving on to the next item on his list. I didn't reply.

I needed to clear my head, to feel the solid ground beneath my feet. I decided to go for a run, a long one. As I neared the city center, I saw a small crowd gathered outside the county courthouse. My feet slowed to a stop.

There, on the courthouse steps, stood Jaxon and Janice. He was in a sharp suit, and she was wearing a simple but elegant white dress, holding a small bouquet of lilies. They were laughing, posing for a photo as they held up a piece of paper. A marriage certificate.

It wasn't a secret. It was official. They were having a small, legal ceremony today, before the grand, fake proposal he had planned for me.

I ducked behind a large planter before they could see me, my body trembling with a fresh wave of shock and rage. I could hear their voices.

"Are you sure about this, Jaxon?" Janice asked, her voice laced with mock concern. "Proposing to her tonight? What if she says no?"

Jaxon laughed, a sound that now seemed harsh and cruel. "She won't. She's completely in love with me. It'll be a big, public proposal at the Tate Corp gala. It has to be public, so everyone sees me doing right by her, fulfilling Denzel's last wish. After that, this whole thing is just a formality."

"And then you're all mine," Janice said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I've always been all yours," he replied, kissing her deeply.

I felt sick. I was a pawn in his twisted game of honoring his dead brother. A public spectacle to make him look noble.

My phone buzzed again. It was Jaxon. "Change of plans for tonight. Put on that blue dress I love. A car will pick you up at 7 for the Tate Corp gala. I have a surprise for you."

The irony was suffocating. He was inviting me to my own humiliation.

I stood there for a long time after they left, the world moving in a blur around me. But a cold resolve began to form in the pit of my stomach. If he wanted a spectacle, I would give him one. But it wouldn't be the one he was expecting.

That evening, I let the car take me to the grand ballroom. It was decorated in silver and gold, chandeliers dripping with crystals. Hundreds of people from the city's elite milled around, sipping champagne. I saw Jaxon standing near the stage, looking handsome and confident. He saw me and his face lit up with that practiced, perfect smile.

He walked over, taking my hand and kissing it. "You look stunning, Elfrieda."

"You clean up nice, too," I said, my voice steady.

Later in the evening, the lights dimmed. Jaxon walked onto the stage, a microphone in his hand. A hush fell over the crowd.

"Good evening, everyone," he began. "Thank you all for coming. I wanted to share a special moment with you all tonight." He looked directly at me, his eyes shining under the spotlight. "Elfrieda Stewart, you came into my life when I needed you most. You are the kindest, most wonderful woman I have ever known."

He was reciting a script. I could almost hear the "for my brother" at the end of each sentence.

He got down on one knee, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a massive diamond ring. The crowd gasped.

"Elfrieda, will you make me the happiest man in the world? Will you marry me?"

All eyes were on me. I could feel their anticipation. I looked at Jaxon, at his hopeful, fake expression. I thought about the list, about Janice, about the marriage certificate. I opened my mouth to say no, to expose him right there.

But then I saw my parents and my brother in the crowd, their faces beaming with pride. I couldn't shatter their happiness like this. Not yet. I would play his game, just for a little longer.

I forced a smile. "Yes," I whispered into the microphone he held out for me. "Yes, I'll marry you."

The room erupted in applause. Jaxon slid the ring onto my finger. It felt heavy, cold, and foreign. As he stood to kiss me, a sudden, deafening crash echoed through the ballroom.

One of the smaller chandeliers directly above the stage had broken from its chain. It swung down, a pendulum of crystal and metal.

Panic ensued. People screamed and scrambled to get away. My first instinct was to pull Jaxon back, but he was already moving.

He wasn't moving toward me.

He was sprinting toward the edge of the stage where Janice stood, her hand over her mouth in a perfect picture of fear. "Janice!" he yelled, his voice raw with genuine terror.

He reached her just as a piece of falling debris grazed her arm. He wrapped his arms around her, shielding her with his body, his face a mask of frantic concern.

He didn't even glance back at me.

I was still standing in the center of the stage, frozen in shock. A shard of crystal, sharp and heavy, fell from above and struck my arm. A searing pain shot through me, and I cried out, stumbling backward. Blood bloomed through the sleeve of my blue dress, a stark, ugly red.

I looked at Jaxon. He saw me. Our eyes met for a split second. He saw the blood, my pained expression. But his attention was immediately pulled back to Janice, who was now leaning against him, whimpering about her "terrible shock."

"It's okay, I've got you," he soothed her, his voice a low, comforting rumble meant only for her.

He looked back at me, his expression hardening into one of annoyance. "Elfrieda, get off the stage. You're in the way of the emergency crews."

Then he turned his back on me completely, scooping a perfectly healthy Janice into his arms and carrying her through the panicked crowd toward the exit. He left me standing there, bleeding and abandoned, in the middle of the glittering disaster he had created.

The pain in my arm was nothing compared to the cold, dead certainty that settled in my heart. I wasn't just a task to be completed. I was disposable.

The last thing I saw before my vision tunneled and the floor rushed up to meet me was my brother Jameel, his face a storm of fury, pushing his way through the crowd toward me.

I woke up in a hospital room. The sharp, antiseptic smell filled my nostrils. My arm was bandaged and in a sling. Jameel was asleep in a chair by my bed, and my mother was dabbing my forehead with a cool cloth.

"Mom?" I whispered, my throat dry.

Her eyes flew open. "Oh, honey, you're awake." She squeezed my hand. "You gave us such a scare."

"Where's Jaxon?" The question was automatic, a reflex from a life that no longer existed.

My mother's face tightened. My brother stirred, his eyes blinking open.

"He's not here," Jameel said, his voice rough with anger. "He hasn't called. He hasn't even texted."

As if on cue, my phone, sitting on the bedside table, lit up with a notification. It was a social media post. From a friend of a friend. A picture of Jaxon and Janice sitting at a cozy, 24-hour cafe. Janice was sipping a hot chocolate, a small bandage on her arm. The caption read: "So glad Janice Tate is okay after that horrible accident at the gala. Jaxon Tate hasn't left her side for a second. True love."

I picked up the phone and showed it to my mother and Jameel.

My mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Jameel's face turned a dark, dangerous shade of red. He stood up, looking like he was ready to commit murder.

"That's it," he said through gritted teeth. "This is over."

I looked at the photo, at Jaxon's concerned face bent toward his real wife, and I finally let myself feel the full, unadulterated rage. I had sacrificed so much for him. For my love for him, I had lost a baby.

Three months ago, I had discovered I was pregnant. I was ecstatic. But the doctor warned me it was a high-risk pregnancy and I needed to avoid all stress. I had tried to tell Jaxon, but he was so busy "working." He was actually on a secret vacation with Janice in the Bahamas. I saw the trip photos on her private account later. The stress of his absence, the gnawing suspicion that something was wrong, it had been too much. I miscarried. I lost our child, and he never even knew. I had grieved alone, telling myself he was just busy, that he would be there for me when it mattered.

The memory, combined with the fresh betrayal, broke something inside me. A sob tore from my throat, raw and agonizing.

"Elfrieda, what is it?" my mother cried, gathering me into her arms.

"I was pregnant," I gasped, the words tumbling out between sobs. "I lost the baby. He was with her. He was on vacation with her while I was losing his child."

The room went silent, except for the sound of my own heartbroken cries. My mother held me tighter, her own tears soaking my hair. Jameel just stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, his body rigid with a fury so profound it seemed to vibrate.

He looked at me, his eyes full of a pain that mirrored my own. "Why, Elfrieda? Why did you stay with him? Why did you agree to marry him tonight?"

"Because of Denzel," I whispered, the final piece of the ugly truth falling into place. "He's doing all of this for Denzel."

My mother pulled back, her face a mask of confusion and grief. "Denzel? What does Jaxon's brother have to do with this?"

"He loved me," I said, the realization dawning on me with sickening clarity. "Denzel loved me. But he was sick, and he knew he was dying. So he made Jaxon promise. He made Jaxon promise to take care of me, to marry me, to love me in his place."

The full weight of the charade, of Jaxon's cruel and selfish interpretation of his brother's last wish, finally settled over us. It wasn't about love. It was about duty. And I was just the collateral damage.

I looked at my bandaged arm, at the empty space on the chair where Jaxon should have been. The diamond on my finger felt like a shackle.

"I'm done," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "I'm taking it off."

I started to pull at the ring, my fingers fumbling. "I'm leaving him. I'm leaving this city. I'm never looking back."

A week later, I was discharged from the hospital. The cut on my arm was healing, leaving a thin, red line that I knew would become a permanent scar. A reminder.

As my family helped me into the car, a sleek black Porsche pulled up behind us. Jaxon got out, carrying a large bouquet of roses. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but he put on his familiar, charming smile when he saw me.

"Elfrieda! I came as soon as I heard you were being discharged," he said, rushing over. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here. Janice... she was really shaken up. I had to make sure she was okay. She's very fragile."

My brother, Jameel, stepped between us. "You've got a lot of nerve showing your face here."

Jaxon's smile faltered. "What are you talking about? I was worried sick." He looked at me, his eyes pleading. "El, I'm so sorry. Let me make it up to you."

I just stared at him, my expression blank. I felt nothing. No anger, no sadness. Just a vast, cold emptiness. "It's fine, Jaxon."

My calm acceptance seemed to reassure him. He pushed past Jameel and took my good hand. "I knew you'd understand. You're always so reasonable."

He led me to his car, away from my family's disapproving glares. "Get in. I'm taking you home. We need to start planning the wedding. I was thinking a destination wedding. Italy, maybe?"

He was already on to the next task.

He opened the passenger door for me. I slid into the leather seat, the engagement ring on my finger feeling like a block of ice. I looked at it, glinting in the sunlight. A beautiful lie.

"This is for you," he said, handing me the roses. They were beautiful, but I knew they were just another checked box on his list. I took them and placed them on my lap.

As he started the car, his phone rang. The screen on the dashboard lit up with the caller ID: 'Janice.'

He glanced at it, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before he answered, his voice instantly shifting to one of deep concern.

"Janice? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

I could hear her frantic, tearful voice through the car's speakers. "Jaxon! I fell! I was getting out of the shower and I slipped. My ankle... I think it's broken! It hurts so much!"

"Stay right there," Jaxon said, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. "Don't move. I'm on my way. I'll be there in ten minutes."

He hung up and turned to me, his face a mask of harried apology. "El, I'm so sorry. I have to go. It's an emergency."

"I understand," I said, my voice flat.

He truly believed I did. He leaned over and gave me a quick, distracted kiss on the cheek. "I'll call you later. We'll talk about the wedding then."

He got out of the car, sprinted to the driver's side, and got back in, his tires screeching as he pulled away from the curb and sped down the street. He left me sitting in my hospital discharge clothes in the passenger seat of his expensive car, holding a bouquet of meaningless flowers.

But this time, I was ready.

I got out of his car, hailed a taxi, and said, "Follow that Porsche."

The taxi driver gave me a strange look but did as I asked. We followed Jaxon across town to a luxury apartment building I had never seen before. I watched him park and run inside without a second glance back.

I paid the driver and got out, my heart a steady, cold drum in my chest. I walked into the lobby and saw Jaxon's name on the directory next to apartment 15B. Their secret home.

I took the elevator to the fifteenth floor. The door to 15B was slightly ajar. I could hear their voices inside. I pushed it open just enough to see into the living room.

Janice was sitting on the couch, her foot propped up on a pillow. There wasn't a scratch on her. She was wearing a silk robe, sipping a glass of wine.

Jaxon was kneeling in front of her, gently examining her perfectly fine ankle. "Does it hurt here?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Janice let out a small, theatrical whimper. "A little. Oh, Jaxon, I was so scared. What if I had really hurt myself and you weren't here? What if you were with her?"

"I'm here now," he said, stroking her hair. "I will always come for you. You know that."

A tiny, cruel smile played on Janice's lips. "But you have to marry her. You have to be with her. It must be so hard for you, pretending to love someone so plain and boring."

I held my breath, waiting for him to defend me. A small, stupid part of me still hoped he would.

He just sighed. "It's a duty, Janice. That's all. It's for Denzel. I owe him this. Do you think I feel anything when I kiss her? When I hold her? It's like holding a block of wood. All I think about is you."

The last flicker of hope inside me died. A block of wood. That's all I was to him. A task. An obligation. An object.

"I know," Janice cooed, running her fingers through his hair. "I'm the one you love. I'm your wife. She's just... a placeholder." She looked up, her eyes scanning the room, and for a second, I thought she saw me. Her gaze seemed to land directly on the crack in the door.

A triumphant, malicious glint appeared in her eyes. She knew I was there. This was all a performance for my benefit.

She leaned down and kissed Jaxon, a long, passionate kiss. "I just hate sharing you," she whispered against his lips.

I didn't need to see any more. I backed away from the door, my movements silent and deliberate. I walked down the hallway, into the elevator, and out of the building. The world outside seemed brighter, sharper. The pain was still there, but it was overshadowed by a chilling clarity.

I walked until I found a park bench and sat down. I pulled out my phone. A friend request was waiting for me.

From Janice Tate.

She wanted to continue the game. She wanted to rub my face in her victory.

I looked at the request for a long moment. Then, with a steady hand, I pressed 'Accept.'

Let the games begin.