Chapter 1

1: 1

I paid five hundred thousand to restore my husband's family chapel, and on the day it opened, my seat was with the outside guests.

My husband, Anthony James, stood at the front of the family women, leading his childhood friend Serena and her son through the rites for the ancestors.

The family elder read the newly revised records aloud for everyone to hear.

Anthony's wife was Serena. The named heir was Serena's son.

Six months ago he had promised me, clear as day, that once the chapel was finished he would add my name to the family records.

Now he said Serena and her boy had no one to lean on, that it was only a name on paper, and that I shouldn't make a fuss over it.

The words had barely left his mouth when the accountant handed over another bill, three hundred thousand.

Anthony pressed the pen into my hand.

"Pay off the balance first. Don't make me lose face in front of the family."

I looked at the key to the side wing in Serena's hand, and I pulled back my own transfer receipt for the five hundred thousand.

"Since the wife in the records is her, the rest of the money should come from your little family of three."

That night I cut off every transfer to the James family and handed Anthony the divorce papers.

"I don't want to be Mrs. James either."

......

Six months earlier, on the day the James family chapel was completed, I arrived at the village early.

The aunt in charge of greeting guests dug through the cards on the table and handed me one.

Outside guest. Brenda Henson.

"I'm Anthony's wife, and I'm the one who funded this. There should be a seat for me with the family."

The aunt glanced back into the chapel.

"The seating was all arranged by Anthony. He said you're to sit here."

I asked her to bring me the donor ledger.

The line that had originally read "Brenda Henson, five hundred thousand" was crossed out with two strokes.

Beside it someone had written, "Anthony James's branch, pledged eight hundred thousand, five hundred thousand received."

"Anthony said husband and wife are one, so the money's all recorded under the branch."

The aunt pointed at the donor plaque that had just gone up outside the courtyard.

"The plaque only carries the head of the household's name too."

I followed her gaze.

Serena, in a dark red dress, was sitting right beside Anthony.

Her seven-year-old son, Marcus, wore the James family sash, the one only the family's own children wore.

My mother-in-law was fixing the boy's collar, smiling warm and easy.

Serena saw me and got up, coming over.

"Brenda, don't get the wrong idea."

"Anthony said you don't care for these old traditions, so he had me bring Marcus to keep you company for a while."

Anthony came over too.

He was wearing the suit I'd helped him pick out last month. His tie was a little crooked, and my hand, halfway up to fix it, dropped back down.

He didn't notice. He only glanced at the card in my hand.

"It's the same wherever you sit. There's a crowd today. Don't stir things up over something this small."

"Why is Serena sitting with the family?"

"She knows the routine. She can help me look after my mother."

"Then what about the sash on her son?"

"The kid thought it was fun. What's the harm in wearing it once?"

"Brenda, everyone's watching. Don't make it look like you can't stand the two of them."

I pulled up the messages Anthony had sent me six months ago.

He'd said that once the chapel was built, he would add my name to the family records with his own hand.

That the side wing would be kept for us, and every year at Christmas we'd come back and stay together.

For those two lines, I'd taken five hundred thousand out of my savings from before the marriage.

"You promised you'd bring me to honor the ancestors with you today."

Anthony glanced at his phone and said nothing.

Three strikes of the gong. The elder pressed for the ceremony to begin.

He turned, took Marcus by the hand, and motioned for Serena to follow.

Only after two steps did he look back at me.

"Go sit down first."

"Whatever you have to say, say it after the ceremony."

I stayed where I was.

In the past, at James family gatherings, whenever he forgot to prepare a gift, or the money he'd promised didn't come through, I was the one who covered for him.

He probably assumed this time was no different.

One word about talking it over at home, and I'd save his face for him.

After the ceremony began, I sat in the seat closest to the door.

When it came time for Anthony's branch to offer incense, Serena stepped up beside him with the boy.

The three of them stood in a row and bowed before the ancestral tablets.

Someone turned to look at me, then quickly looked away.

I gripped that card until the stiff edge dug into my palm.

When the rites were done, the elder brought out the newly revised records.

The chapel went quiet.

He put on his glasses and read down the list, starting from the eldest branch.

When he reached Anthony, I found myself sitting up straight.

"Anthony James."

"Married to Serena Donaldson."

"Named heir, Marcus Donaldson."

Low murmurs of congratulation rose around me.

Serena stood, holding the boy's hand, her face calm, not the slightest bit surprised.

I looked at Anthony.

He didn't correct it, and he didn't look at me.

I got up and walked toward the elder.

Anthony finally reached out to stop me.

"Brenda, sit down first."

"Don't embarrass me today."

I shook his hand off.

A hundred pairs of eyes in the chapel turned toward me.

Seven years of marriage, and it was the first time I'd heard that my husband had another wife and child in the family records.