Page 12 of The Temporary Wife

Colby

T he law office smelled like leather and old money.

The kind of place designed to intimidate anyone who couldn’t afford the hourly rate.

I sat across from my lawyer, David Voight, watching him spread documents across the polished conference table with the methodical precision of someone delivering bad news.

“They filed the motion yesterday,” he said, sliding a thick stack of papers toward me. “Lyla’s attorney is challenging the validity of your marriage.”

My stomach dropped. Three weeks had passed since Gianna and I had finally admitted our feelings to each other, three weeks of happiness I’d never thought possible.

We’d fallen into an easy rhythm of real life: morning coffee shared over the newspaper, evening walks around the neighborhood, quiet conversations after Luca went to bed.

I’d started to believe we could actually make this work.

Now Lyla was trying to destroy it all.

“On what grounds?” I asked, though I suspected I already knew.

“Marriage fraud. She’s claiming you entered into the marriage solely to influence the custody case, with no genuine intent to create a marital relationship.” David’s expression was grim. “She has evidence.”

“What kind of evidence?”

He pulled out a manila folder and opened it carefully.

“Timeline documentation showing when you applied for the marriage license relative to her custody filing. Witness statements from people who say they never saw you and Gianna together romantically before the custody case began. Financial records showing Gianna maintained her own apartment until the week of your wedding.”

Each piece of evidence felt like a punch to the gut. Together, they painted a picture of exactly what our marriage had been at the beginning a calculated move to improve my custody chances.

“There’s more,” David continued reluctantly. “She has a recording.”

My blood turned to ice. “What kind of recording?”

“A phone conversation between you and Gianna. Something about ‘sticking to the arrangement’ and ‘maintaining the facade for the custody case.’”

The conversation from after our fight, when we’d both been hurt and defensive and said things we didn’t mean. Somehow Lyla had gotten hold of it, and now our private moment of doubt was going to be used as ammunition against us.

“How did she get that?” I asked, my voice barely controlled. And then my stomach dropped. She did have a key. I’d never bothered to change the locks after the divorce because she rarely came by, and when she did, it was to pick up Luca. “She has access to the house when she picks up Luca.”

David sigh and wrote some notes. “That’s likely how. A small recording device in your home.” David’s expression was grim. “It’s invasive, but unfortunately not illegal since she has legitimate access to the residence.”

The violation felt like ice in my veins. Lyla had been in our home, listening to our private conversations, gathering ammunition for her legal war. I made a mental note to call a locksmith the moment this meeting ended.

“But Colby, this is serious. If the judge determines your marriage is fraudulent, it won’t just affect the custody case. You could face criminal charges. Both of you could.”

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process the magnitude of what we were facing. “What are our options?”

“We fight it. We present evidence that your marriage has become genuine, that you and Gianna have built a real relationship regardless of how it started.” David leaned forward.

“But I have to ask you directly. Is your marriage real now? Because if you’re going to commit perjury on top of marriage fraud, I need to know. ”

“It’s real,” I said without hesitation. “What Gianna and I have now is completely real.”

“Can you prove that? Because feelings aren’t enough. We need concrete evidence of a genuine marital relationship.”

I thought about the past three weeks. The way Gianna curled against me in sleep, the shared looks across the dinner table, the quiet moments when she helped Luca with homework while I cooked dinner. How could I prove that those moments were real? How could I document love?

“We share a bedroom, a bank account, household responsibilities. We make decisions together about Luca. We—” I stopped, realizing how thin it all sounded in a legal context.

“Those things can be faked for appearances,” David said gently. “What we need is evidence that outsiders would recognize. Joint financial planning, integrated social lives, future commitments that extend beyond the custody case.”

Future commitments. The phrase hit me like a revelation. “We haven’t made any long-term plans because we’ve been so focused on getting through the custody case. But that doesn’t mean we don’t want a future together.”

“Then you need to start making those plans. Publicly. Joint investments, vacation bookings, anything that shows you’re building a life together that extends beyond this legal situation.”

After leaving David’s office, I sat in my truck in the parking lot for twenty minutes, trying to figure out how to tell Gianna that our carefully constructed happiness was under attack.

She’d been so radiant lately, so settled and content.

The thought of watching her face crumble when I explained what we were facing made my chest ache.

But there was no choice. We were in this together now, for real, and that meant facing the hard things as well as celebrating the good ones.

I found her at home, curled up on the living room couch with a book and a cup of tea.

Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, turning her hair golden and making her look like something from a painting.

When she looked up and smiled at me, my heart clenched with the knowledge that I was about to shatter her peace.

“Hey,” she said, marking her place in the book. “How did the meeting go?”

I sat down beside her, close enough to touch but not quite ready to. “Lyla filed a motion to challenge our marriage.”

The color drained from her face. “What does that mean?”

“She’s claiming marriage fraud. Saying we only got married to influence the custody case.”

Gianna set down her book with shaking hands. “Can she do that?”

“She’s doing it. The hearing is in ten days.”

“Ten days?” Her voice rose to almost a whisper. “Colby, what happens if she wins?”

I reached for her hands, needing the contact as much as she did. “We fight it. We prove that what we have now is real.”

“But how? She’s right about how it started. We did get married for the custody case. The timing, the circumstances. It all looks exactly like what she’s claiming.”

“The beginning doesn’t matter. What matters is what we’ve built since then.”

Gianna pulled her hands free and stood up, beginning to pace the living room like a caged animal. “What if the judge doesn’t see it that way? What if they decide we’re both criminals?”

“That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.” She turned to face me, and I could see the fear in her eyes. “Colby, I could go to jail. We both could. And Luca? God, what would happen to Luca if we both got arrested?”

“Stop.” I stood up and caught her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “That’s not going to happen. We’re going to fight this, and we’re going to win.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because what we have is real. Because I love you, and you love me, and that has to count for something.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “But what if it’s not enough? What if love isn’t enough to overcome the legal mess we’ve created?”

Before I could answer, the front door burst open and Luca came running in, backpack flying behind him and a huge grin on his face.

“Mom! Dad! Guess what happened at school today!” He skidded to a stop when he saw our faces, his excitement immediately shifting to concern. “What’s wrong? Why do you both look sad?”

Gianna quickly wiped her eyes and forced a smile. “Nothing, sweetheart. Just grown-up stuff. Tell us about school.”

But Luca wasn’t fooled. He’d grown expert at reading adult moods over the past few months, and he could tell something was seriously wrong.

“Did I do something bad?” he asked quietly, his voice small.

The simple question from my six-year-old son broke something open in my chest. He’d been so happy lately, so secure in our little family. The thought of him worrying that he was somehow responsible for our stress made me want to put my fist through the wall.

“No, buddy,” I said, kneeling down to his level. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re perfect. Sometimes grown-ups just have things to figure out.”

“But you look really worried. Like when I had that bad dream and couldn’t stop crying.”

Gianna knelt down beside me, reaching out to smooth Luca’s hair. “Hey, look at me. We’re going to be okay. All of us.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” she said without hesitation, and I could hear the steel in her voice that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.

After Luca went upstairs to start his homework, Gianna and I sat back down on the couch in heavy silence. The fear was still there in her eyes, but underneath it was something harder, more determined.

“What do we need to do?” she asked.

“David says we need to show evidence of building a future together. Joint investments, long-term plans, things that prove we’re not just pretending until the custody case is over.”

“Okay. What kind of things?”

I thought about David’s suggestions, trying to figure out what would be most convincing to a judge. “We could look at buying a house together. Something bigger, with room for Luca to grow up. Maybe set up college savings accounts in both our names.”

“A house.” She was quiet for a moment, considering. “That’s a big step.”

“Too big?”

“No, not too big. Just . . . permanent. Real.”

“It is real, Gianna. Whatever happens with the legal stuff, what I feel for you is real.”

She looked at me then, really looked at me, searching my face for any sign of doubt or deception. “Even if we win the custody case and you don’t need a wife anymore for legal reasons?”

“Especially then. Because then I’ll get to keep you just because I want to, not because I have to.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do. And I love you for it.” She reached for my hand, threading our fingers together. “So, let’s do it. Let’s buy a house and set up college funds and plan a future together. Let’s give that judge so much evidence of our real marriage that Lyla’s accusations look ridiculous.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m terrified,” she admitted. “But, I’m sure. This is worth fighting for, Colby. You and Luca and the life we’re building together. It’s worth everything.”

I kissed her then, pouring all my love and gratitude and determination into the contact. When we broke apart, I could see the fear still lingering in her eyes, but it was overshadowed by something stronger.

“We’re going to win this,” I said.

“Yes, we are.”

The next few days passed in a blur of activity.

We met with a realtor and looked at houses that could actually contain our growing family.

We opened joint investment accounts and made plans that extended months and years into the future.

We acted like the married couple we’d become, making decisions together and building something that looked permanent and real.

Because it was permanent and real, regardless of what any judge might say.

But underneath all the practical preparations, I couldn’t shake the fear that we were about to lose everything we’d worked so hard to build. Lyla had been planning this attack for weeks, maybe months. She had evidence and recordings and lawyers who specialized in tearing apart families.

All we had was the truth and each other.

I just hoped it would be enough.

The night before the hearing, I lay awake staring at the ceiling while Gianna slept curled against my side.

Her breathing was even and peaceful, but I could feel the tension in her body even in sleep.

Tomorrow we would walk into that courtroom and defend our marriage, our family, our right to be together.

Tomorrow we would find out if love really could conquer all, or if sometimes it just wasn’t enough.

I tightened my arms around Gianna and tried to memorize the feeling of her warm body against mine, just in case it was one of the last times I’d get to hold her like this.

Just in case we lost everything.