Two Years of Marriage, I Never Got My Wedding Ring Chapter 13

Two Years of Marriage, I Never Got My Wedding Ring Chapter 13

In the past two years, when Ricci relatives made their backhanded comments, he never asked.

When I wore that $29.99 ring to galas and overheard women in the restroom laughing about how cheap it looked, he never asked.

When I packed up my life in the master bedroom by myself, he never asked.

But now, a faint red mark that was already fading prompted that question.

I drew my hand back.

“No.”

Alessio’s fingers twitched.

“Verona, let me in.”

“It’s late.”

“I found something.”

I looked at him.

He took a USB drive from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

“About the ring.”

In the end, I stepped aside.

Not because I was softening.

But because I needed to know, once and for all, what kind of a joke my wedding had been.

Alessio came in but didn’t sit down.

He stood in the middle of my living room, looking as if he had just stepped into a foreign country and didn’t know the customs.

I plugged the USB drive into my laptop.

A restored video file from a backstage security camera appeared on the screen.

The image was grainy, but the people were clear.

Backstage at the wedding, Alessio sat on a sofa, surrounded by several of his groomsmen. He was already drunk, his head in his hands.

Sofia walked over, holding two ring boxes.

One black.

One dark blue.