We would divorce, he explained.

He would marry Bianca in public, to satisfy the scandal and the family and the shareholders.

We would wait one year.

Then he would divorce Bianca, bind her with a private agreement, and quietly come back to me.

“Even if I have to stand at an altar with her,” he said, gazing at me with what he he took for romance, “you will always be my real wife.”

I felt a wild urge to laugh in his face.