My Sister’s Ex Is My Secret Husband Chapter 1

The guys who wanted her treated me like a prized stepping stone.

The guys who wanted me were usually her faded leftovers.

I had spent my entire life trying to escape my sister, Victoria.

Until her favorite ex-boyfriend looked at me and asked, “Marry me?”

Staring into the sharp, perfectly sculpted face of Rhys Thorne, I heard myself say, “Yes.”

Six years into our secret marriage, Tori came home.

Everyone waited for their epic reunion.

I calmly booked a flight.

“I have other plans. You’ll have to excuse me.”

* * *

I heard about Tori’s return in our old high school alumni group text.

Liam Chase, the class president, posted screenshots of their chat, excitedly announcing:

“Our queen, Victoria Sterling, is coming home! Who’s in for a welcome party?”

Tori was always adored.

Within ten minutes, the thread was at 99+ messages.

I don’t know who started the frenzy, but the next message that caught fire was: “We have to get Rhys in on this!”

And just like that, the entire group exploded.

“Rhys and Tori were the Northwood High power couple.”

“I still remember them winning the State Debate Championship—Rhys on first argument, Tori on second—they wiped the floor with the competition.”

“And that campus promotional video they shot? Every frame dripped with pure gold.”

“They were so perfect. How did they break up right after college?”

“I heard they’re both single. The Golden Girl and the CEO, maybe they can finally pick up where they left off.”

They shared memories.

Someone recalled Tori playing her violin on the rooftop at sunset, claiming all the world's beauty gathered just for her.

Someone else remembered countless girls crying over Rhys, only for him to remain completely unmoved.

What none of them knew was that Rhys, the untouchable golden boy, was my husband. My secret husband.

My old lab partner, Mia, was the only one who remembered me. But her @ was a complaint.

“Eliza, you’re awful.”

“You’re the goddess’s sister! You didn’t give us any heads-up? Those of us out of state barely have time to fly back!”

I stared at the screen, speechless.

Was I supposed to tell her that Tori and I were practically strangers, and my relationship with our parents was colder still?

My sister’s homecoming was news to me, too. My parents hadn't bothered to call.

I started to type a reply, but stopped. I hadn't asked Rhys what he thought.

This year marked Tori’s seventh year abroad, and my sixth year married to Rhys.

I wanted to text him, but decided to wait until he was home.

What would I even say?

Your Golden Girl is back. Do you want me to gracefully exit?

The silence of the house became heavy with anticipation.

I started dinner.

Rhys likes his rice slightly softer than average. The scallops and bamboo-pith soup needs to be just-off-the-boil.

The soup wasn’t ready when my phone rang. It was Rhys.

“Your mother called me,” he said. “She mentioned feeling under the weather. If you have a moment, could you check on her for me?”

He used the phrase “for me,” not “you should.” A small kindness, and I was grateful.

Rhys knew my relationship with my mother was fractured. In the last few years, he’d paid more attention to her than I, her own daughter, had.

It made sense.

He and Tori were childhood sweethearts. Our families were intrinsically linked.

When they dated, everyone celebrated. When they broke up, everyone mourned.

When Tori left for her advanced studies in Europe, my mother tearfully declared, “It is the great regret of my life that I won’t see Rhys as my son-in-law.”

If she knew her greatest regret was that I was the one who married him—the daughter she barely tolerated—she’d probably be even more devastated.