Chapter 2
As I instinctively stepped back, my foot landed on something slick and slimy.
My eyes fell upon a used condom lying on the floor.
I retched, but my stomach was empty.
The pain was all-consuming. I wanted to cry, but there were no tears left.
Then, my phone buzzed.
It was a new post from Richard: [Back with family. Dedicated to loving my wife for the rest of our days.]
The accompanying photo showed him and Vivian, shoulder to shoulder, bathing in the golden glow of a sunset.
In that instant, my mind just broke.
At last, my tears cascaded down.
With every drop, I felt the raw bitterness of my humiliation and my fury.
Revenge finally outpaced my grief. Over the next few days, I threw myself into digging up evidence of his affair, determined to ruin him.
The more I found, the colder my heart grew.
Three months ago, on my birthday, I had waited up all night for him. But he was with Vivian, setting off fireworks.
Two months ago, I found out I was pregnant. I couldn't find him to share the news. He was with Vivian, nursing her through her period cramps.
One month ago, when the "homewrecker" story broke, I was so stressed that I miscarried and ended up in the hospital. At the same time, he was with Vivian, watching the aura.
I let out a bitter laugh and ran to the bathroom, throwing up until there was nothing left but bile. Only then did the numb ache in my chest begin to ease.
The next day, I sent everything I had to the press and waited.
When I got home, I forced my exhausted body to sit at the desk and draft a divorce agreement.
As I wrote, the tears started again.
Growing up side by side, we were each other's first loves in everything but name.
We had promised that after he graduated from college overseas, we would finally be together.
In the beginning, it was perfect. He would pick me up from work no matter how late.
When I was sick, he canceled a multi-million-dollar deal to stay by my side, simmering soup for six hours.
On the day I was promoted, he spent a fortune on a diamond and proposed.
I didn't want anyone to say I was using him, so we kept our marriage a secret.
I never imagined that my desire for independence would become the perfect cover for his betrayal.
My vision blurred. Before I could even begin to understand when he had changed, I passed out from sheer exhaustion.
When I woke up, the story had already blown up online.
But when I looked at my phone, the world tilted on its axis.
The ironclad proof of his affair had been twisted. It was now presented as a confession letter from me, admitting to being the other woman.
They had used AI to clone my voice for a fake apology and generate my handwriting for a fake note.
The internet went insane. My photos were doctored, plastered with the word "homewrecker," and spread everywhere.
My social media accounts were all suspended. My phone number was leaked.
Harassment calls and vitriol flooded my phone without end.
Strangers spat the word "slut" at me, telling me the world would be better off if I were dead.
Worse were the men who saw my pain as an opportunity, calling to ask how much I charged for a night and if I was looking for a new sugar daddy.
A broken laugh escaped my lips.
I finally understood. This was Richard's revenge.
Before, he had always protected me, shutting down any online hate before I even saw it.
Now, for Vivian, he had personally constructed this hell for me.