Chapter 1
A year after my wedding, I find myself backed into a corner, my blouse ripped open.
The woman in front of me holds up her phone, the little red "LIVE" icon glowing. Then, she slaps me hard.
"You slut!" she screams into the camera. "This is what you get for messing with my husband!"
She is impossibly strong, and I am pinned. All I can do is clutch the torn fabric over my chest.
"You have the wrong person!" I choke out, my voice shaking. "I'm married! I don't even know your husband!"
She just laughs before shoving a marriage certificate in my face. It is dated three years ago.
And the smiling groom in the photo is my husband, Richard Hughes.
"Richard and I got this three years ago, Lily Shaw," she sneers, jabbing a finger at the document. "Face it. You're the other woman."
My world goes silent. Everything just fades into a dull roar in my ears.
Overnight, my reputation is in shreds.
The promotion at the TV station I have worked so hard for is gone. I am blacklisted. My career is over.
I find myself on the balcony of the apartment Richard and I have called home, the cold night air doing nothing to numb the ache in my soul. I am ready to let go of it all.
Just as I climb onto the ledge, I hear voices from the other side of the door.
"You're a real piece of work, Richard," she barks and laughs. "We've only known each other three months, and you let me use a fake marriage certificate just to screw with her head to make me happy."
"As long as you're happy," Richard murmurs gently. "You can play any game you want."
I stare at the door, the last bit of hope inside me crumbling to dust.
It isn't a mistake. The complete and utter destruction of my life is all just a game to him, a little show to entertain his fling.
*****
The wind whipped around the balcony, but I could hear their voices with perfect clarity.
I squeezed my eyes shut, the nightmare of the past month replaying in my mind.
After I was branded a homewrecker, I tried to fight back. I posted every chat log to prove I had been deceived. But facts meant nothing to them. Every piece of evidence I offered was just more fuel for their hatred.
My coworkers started avoiding me. Strangers spat at me on the street.
"Dressed like that, of course she's a tramp."
"I bet she slept her way into all those designer clothes."
I did my best to block it all out to just focus on my work.
But then, on a live broadcast, a guest looked me in the eye and asked me why I became a homewrecker.
That's when I finally shattered. "I'm not!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. "I didn't know he was married! I had no idea!"
No one believed me.
The clip of my breakdown went viral, fueling a whole new round of online attacks.
Loss of employment was only the beginning. The blacklist followed, a death sentence for my professional life.
Fear and nightmares became my constant companions.
I started swallowing pills by the handful, my hair falling out in clumps.
It wasn't until Richard Hughes returned from his trip abroad with Vivian West that he finally deigned to answer my questions. He just looked at me with bored impatience.
"You asked if I had a girlfriend back when I was studying overseas," he said with a shrug. "You never asked if I had a wife. How is that my fault?"
The last thread holding me together snapped.
Death felt like the only way out.
But now, standing here, I heard the truth. I was just frozen.
If it was all fake, then what was all the suffering for? What was the point of any of it?
Rage and grief boiled up inside me, and I lost control. I shoved the balcony door open.
Richard was still grinning when I spoke. My words froze the arrogance right out of his eyes.
"Why? Why would you do this to me?"
He frowned, gestured for Vivian to leave the room, and sank onto the sofa to light a cigarette.
I was allergic to cigarette smoke, and the smell instantly made me cough.
He used to be so careful, never smoking around me. Now, he watched me coughing without a flicker of concern.
"Since you heard everything," he said coolly, "I'll just be straight with you.
"Lily Shaw, I know you love me. But I'm bored.
"I'm bored of your look and bored of babysitting your emotions. Even the sex has grown stale. It's the same routine every single time. I've had enough.
"I need excitement. Vivian gives me something you can't."
I took a few deep breaths, fighting down the nausea. "Richard, how can you do this? After what my mom did for you?"
At the mention of my mother, his expression tightened. He yelled, "It's been years, Lily. Are you ever going to stop holding her death over my head?
"I know she saved my life. I married you, didn't I? Isn't that enough?"
Richard and I grew up next door to each other.
When his house caught fire, his parents were out of town. The nanny ran, leaving him behind.
My mother was the only one who rushed into the flames. She got him out, but she inhaled too much smoke and died.
Her death was always the unspoken thing between us.
Bringing it up now, on top of all the recent humiliation, was the last straw. I lunged forward and slapped him hard across the face.
"My mom died for you! For an ungrateful bastard like you!" I screamed.
The slap stunned us both into silence.
Then, a cruel smile spread across his face. "Well, that's a first. I don't think I've ever seen you this angry before," he hissed.
He leaned in, letting out a predatory whisper. "This look on your face is kind of a turn-on.
"You've actually got me aroused.
"Vivian's not here. How about we try out the bathroom?"
His words short-circuited my brain.
I stared at him, this man I thought I knew, and saw a complete stranger.
Was this really the boy I had loved my entire life?
"Get out!" I shrieked, grabbing the nearest object and throwing it at him.
After he left, I collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air. I was so exhausted that all I wanted to do was sleep.
But when I stumbled into our bedroom, I froze.
Our wedding photo was on the floor, and the glass was shattered.
Someone had scrawled "homewrecker" in huge letters across my face.
Two greasy handprints were smeared over the picture.