My ex remarried just seven days after our divorce. One look at his new wife, and I couldn’t stop laughing—she was practically my clone. But the real shock came when I learned why…
Chapter 1: The Wedding of the Copies
The October sea breeze from the Atlantic swept through the gardens of Vance Manor in East Hampton. White tents were pitched close together, Dom Pérignon Champagne flowed like a stream, and the symphony orchestra played the most romantic love songs.
Today was the wedding day of Richard Vance – my ex-husband.
The irony was that we had only finalized our divorce seven days ago. Seven days. The ink on the court papers hadn’t even dried yet, and Richard was already hastily placing a ring on another woman’s finger.
I, Elena, stood on the second-floor balcony of the neighboring mansion (which belonged to my family), looking down at the lavish party below. I held a glass of red wine, not to offer my blessings, but to watch the spectacle.
The large doors swung open. The bride entered.
At that very moment, I couldn’t help but laugh. A bitter, sarcastic laugh escaped my throat.
The new bride – Sophia – looked eerily like me. No, she was a perfect replica of myself from five years ago. Her chestnut brown hair styled in large waves, her slender figure, and most importantly, she was wearing a Vera Wang wedding dress identical to the one I wore to Richard. She even had the pearl jewelry Richard had given me (which I had returned).
“Is he obsessed?” I whispered to myself. Richard was a narcissist. He couldn’t accept that I was the one who filed for divorce. His immediate marriage to a doppelganger seemed like his way of yelling at me, “You’re nothing, I can replace you in a heartbeat.”
But as I looked closer through the binoculars, the smile vanished.
Richard wasn’t smiling.
He stood in the chapel, sweating profusely despite the chilly weather. He kept glancing at his watch, his eyes darting frantically toward the main entrance, as if waiting for a monster to appear. His hand, gripping the bride’s, trembled so much that Sophia turned to look at him anxiously.
Why did a man who had just won the game of love look like a condemned man walking to the execution platform?
A gut feeling told me this wedding wasn’t about love, nor was it about childish revenge. Something far darker was at play.
I decided to go down there. I needed to see for myself.
Chapter 2: The Confrontation in the Waiting Room
I sneaked into the reception through the staff entrance. No one noticed me because everyone was engrossed in cutting the wedding cake. I texted Richard: “Meet me in the study. Right now. Otherwise, I’ll come up on stage to congratulate you both.”
Two minutes later, Richard burst into the study. He locked the door, leaned against it, and gasped for breath.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Richard hissed. He looked haggard and gaunt, a far cry from his usual dignified self.
“Coming to see my doppelganger,” I shrugged, sitting down in the armchair. “Richard, you’re sick. Finding a girl who looks exactly like me, making her wear my old dresses. Do you miss me that much?”
“You wouldn’t understand, Elena. Go. Go immediately,” Richard’s voice trembled, not with anger, but with fear.
“Why do you have to get married so quickly? Seven days? What are you racing against?”
Richard moved closer, gripping my shoulders. His hand was icy cold.
“Seven days,” he mumbled, his eyes wide with a wild, vacant stare. “That’s the deadline.”
“What deadline?”
“The deadline of the Dead Man’s Clause.”
I frowned. Richard was a hedge fund manager. I knew he was involved in dirty money, but I never intervened. That’s why I divorced him – to protect myself from his legal troubles.
“Elena, listen,” Richard said quickly, swallowing. “Six months ago, you lost $50 million to Bratva (the Russian Mafia). They weren’t asking for money. They were asking for something else.”
“What were they asking for?”
“They were asking for U.S. citizenship. And the quickest, safest way to legalize the identity of the mob boss’s daughter…is to marry an U.S. citizen with a clean financial record and high social standing.”
I began to understand the problem.
“They chose you?”
“They chose him. But he was married to me at the time. They gave him an ultimatum: Either he divorced me and married the mob boss’s daughter within six months, or they would kill both of us.”
A chill ran down my spine. “So… he divorced me to save me?”
Richard gave a bitter laugh. “Not exactly. He divorced me to save his own life. If he didn’t marry the mob boss’s daughter on time, he would be chopped to pieces.”
“But…” I pointed out the window, where the bride Sophia was laughing and talking with the guests. “That girl… Sophia. She looks exactly like me. She doesn’t look Russian. And she speaks perfect American English. Is she the mob boss’s daughter?”
Richard shook his head vigorously. And this is when the horrifying truth was revealed.
“No! That’s the problem! The mob boss’s daughter died of a drug overdose in Moscow two weeks ago! Bratva doesn’t know about it, or they’re keeping it a secret. But The Cleaner from the organization is on his way here to check on the wedding.”
“So who is Sophia?”
“She’s a failed actress…”
“The girl I found on Broadway,” Richard whispered, his voice full of guilt. “I hired her to pretend to be my new wife. I need a wedding today to take pictures, to send to Bratva as proof that I’ve completed the ‘marriage’ mission. I need to buy time to raise funds and escape.”
“Why does she look like me?”
“Because… Bratva doesn’t know the boss’s daughter,” Richard confessed. “The boss hides his daughter very well. But Bratva knows you. They’ve been watching us for the past three years. In their files, ‘Richard Vance’s Wife’ looks like you. If I marry someone completely different, they’ll suspect I’m up to something. I need someone who looks like you to fool the organization’s guards lurking among the guests.”
I jumped to my feet.
“You’re crazy! You’re using an innocent girl as a scapegoat?” “Do you think the Russian Mafia is so stupid they can’t tell the difference?”
“I have no other choice! I just need to get through tonight! I’ll fly to the Cayman Islands tomorrow morning!”
“Richard,” I looked him straight in the eye. “You said Bratva is here?”
“Yes. There are at least five of them out there. They’re watching.”
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three slow, heavy knocks.
Richard turned pale. He recoiled. “They’re here.” They came to get ‘proof’ of marriage.
Chapter 3: The Bride’s Twist
Richard and I held our breath. The study door slowly opened.
But the person who entered wasn’t the tattooed Russian gangster.
It was Sophia – the new bride.
She walked in, closed the door, and locked it. The innocent, happy smile from the reception hall had completely vanished. In its place was a chillingly cold, sharp expression.
She looked at me, then at Richard.
“That was a good show, Richard,” Sophia said. Her voice was no longer American. It had a hint of the harshness of Eastern Europe.
“Sophia? What are you doing here?” “You told me to stay in the lobby?” Richard stammered.
Sophia walked to the bar, poured herself a glass of whiskey. She gulped it down, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smudging a little red lipstick.
“I’m not Sophia,” she said. She took off her veil and threw it into the fireplace. “And I’m not an unemployed actress either.”
She turned to Richard, her eyes like two dark gun barrels.
“My name is Natalia Volkova.”
Richard slumped into his chair. “Volkova? The boss’s last name… You… you’re the boss’s daughter? But intelligence reports said you were dead…”
“That was fake news I spread to eliminate enemies within the family,” Natalia said, stepping closer to Richard. She was taller than him in her high heels, and completely overwhelmed him with her presence. “My father is old and frail. I’m the one taking over the business.” “And I wanted to come here in person to see what kind of person my ‘future husband’ is.”
She sneered, looking at Richard’s pathetic state.
“And what do I see? A coward trying to find a doppelganger of his ex-wife to deceive the organization. Do you think I don’t know what I look like, Richard? Do you think I don’t know you hired me through a fake acting agency that I myself set up?”
I leaned against the wall, stunned. Richard had fallen into the trap from the start. He thought he was hiring an actress to fool the Mafia, but in reality, he had hired the Mafia’s “Goddess” herself to play… herself.
“You failed the test, Richard,” Natalia said. “You’re not honest. You’re not brave. You intend to use me as a shield and then run away with the money you embezzled from my father.”
Richard knelt on the floor, crawling to Natalia’s feet. “Natalia! Spare me! I’ll do anything!” “I’ll be your most loyal dog!”
Natalia stomped her high-heeled shoe on Richard’s shoulder, sending him tumbling backward.
“I don’t need a dog. I need a good money launderer. But you… you’re too stupid.”
She pulled a silver silenced pistol from under her flowing wedding dress.
Richard screamed, but the sound was choked in his throat by fear.
Natalia turned to me.
“And you,” she looked at me with amusement. “Elena Vance. The clever ex-wife who pulled her foot out just in time before the ship sank. I like you. You have good taste.” (She pointed to the Vera Wang dress she was wearing—a replica of mine.)
“Are you going to kill us?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.
“Kill you? No,” Natalia shook her head. “You owe us nothing. You’re legally divorced.” “Our contract only binds Richard.”
She pointed the gun at Richard’s head.
“But he… he’s a bad debt that needs to be written off.”
Chapter 4: The Red Wedding
“Wait!” I shouted.
Natalia stopped, her finger still on the trigger. “You want to plead for him?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I mean, if you kill him here, in this study, the police will come. I’m a witness. I’ll have to testify. You’ll be in big trouble in America.”
“I could kill you too,” Natalia shrugged.
“You could. But then you’d face the FBI. And your business in New York would be over,” I took a step forward, betting my life. “I have a better solution.”
Natalia lowered the gun.
“Just a moment. ‘Go ahead.'”
“Richard signed a $20 million life insurance policy, with the beneficiary being ‘Legal Wife at the time of death.’ Currently, according to the marriage registration papers this morning, you are his legal wife.”
Richard’s eyes widened. He looked at me in disbelief. I was betraying him.
“If you shoot him, the insurance won’t pay for murder committed by the beneficiary,” I continued, my mind racing like a computer. “But what if he dies… in an accident on your wedding night? Drunk and falling into the pool, for example? You’ll have $20 million clean, plus control of his remaining assets.”
Natalia looked at me, then smiled. A smile of equal recognition.
“You’re much smarter than your ex-husband,” Natalia said. “Okay. An accident sounds plausible.”
She put away her gun. She turned to Richard.
“Get up, my dear husband,” she commanded. “Go outside and laugh and talk. Drink plenty. Tonight we’ll have a memorable wedding night by the pool.”
Richard trembled as he stood up. He knew his fate was sealed. He looked at me one last time, his eyes filled with resentment and despair. But I felt no pity. He had intended to use an innocent girl as a scapegoat for his death. He deserved this end.
Natalia and I walked out of the study. Richard followed us like a condemned man.
Before I left, Natalia leaned close to my ear and whispered:
“This pearl necklace,” she touched the string of beads around my neck. “It’s fake. Richard sold the real one to pay off last month’s interest. He’s a complete failure.”
I chuckled. A relieved laugh.
I left the mansion and drove away from The Hamptons.
The next morning, the news filled the newspapers: “Billionaire Richard Vance dies in drowning accident on his wedding night. Newlywed wife is devastated.”
I sat in a Manhattan café, reading the news and sipping my espresso. I wasn’t sad. I had escaped one monster, and witnessed it being devoured by an even bigger one.
Richard remarried after seven days to find a way to survive, but he didn’t realize he had signed his own death warrant when he placed the ring on the finger of my “copy.”
Because that copy was, in fact, the original of the cruelty he could never attain.
