Chapter 1
On our first wedding anniversary after remarrying, I snuck into my husband Charles Ford's hotel with a bouquet of roses, ready to surprise him during his business trip.
Instead, I walked in on him throwing an extravagant birthday party for his first love, Vivian White. He was sliding the signature Ford family bracelet onto her wrist.
A guest who didn't know the whole story asked, "If Mr. Ford loves Ms. White so much, wasn't it perfect when Susan found out about their affair and filed for divorce? Why did he spend six months chasing after her and convince her to remarry him?"
Someone nearby laughed and answered, "Chase her back? Please. The whole thing was just Vivian's idea of entertainment.
"When Susan filed for divorce, it blew up online, and Vivian got torn apart in the comments for months. She was pissed, so she had Mr. Ford fake the whole reconciliation act.
"Susan fell for it completely and thought he actually wanted her back. She only lasted six months before she caved and agreed to remarry him.
"This past year, Vivian's gotten really creative with how she messes with Susan. She had Mr. Ford give her a knockoff dress to wear to a gala so she'd embarrass herself.
"Then she convinced him to take Susan diving even though she can't swim, and they filmed her drowning and sent it around for everyone to watch. Honestly, it's been entertaining.
"Today's their first anniversary, so I bet Vivian's got something new planned. I can't wait to see what it is."
My blood ran cold, but I didn't burst through the doors crying and screaming. Instead, I decided to fake my own death.
Charles, you've been playing me this whole time. Now it's my turn to play you.
*****
The voice on the other end of the line said, "Ms. Lane, your staged death package is now active. In seven days, everything will proceed as planned."
I let out a long breath when I heard those words.
In seven days, I would disappear from Charles' life for good.
I hung up and circled the date in red on the calendar.
The bright red ink felt like it was mocking every foolish decision I'd made over the past year and a half.
I was still staring at the calendar when Charles came home with a cake.
He set it down and wrapped his arms around me the way he always did, then asked softly, "What are you thinking about? You looked like you were a million miles away."
I felt the warmth of his chest against my back, and something bitter rose in my throat.
Five years of marriage and one year back together, and I never once saw through him. Charles was a better actor than I ever gave him credit for.
He had me convinced that he'd moved on from Vivian and chosen me, that he couldn't live without me, which was why he'd spent six months after our divorce chasing me down and begging me to come back.
I shook my head and said, "Nothing. I was just thinking."
His eyes landed on the circled date, and he asked, "Is something happening in seven days?"
I swallowed the bitterness and said with a small smile, "I'm going to give you a surprise that day."
Charles reached over, ruffled my hair with a fond look, and said, "I can't wait."
Then he pulled back and added, "But forget about seven days from now for a second. Susan, do you know what today is? It's our one-year anniversary since we got back together, and I baked you a chocolate cake from scratch. Come try it."
When Charles pulled out the cake, my stomach dropped.
The memory hit me right away. At Vivian's birthday party earlier, someone had laughed and asked what they were going to do with me tonight.
Vivian reached into a flower pot, grabbed a fistful of dirt, and dumped it over the cake. She smiled and said, "I'm feeling generous today, so I'll let Susan off easy and livestream her eating dirt."
And now Charles had actually brought that dirt-covered cake home and told me it was chocolate.
My chest tightened like something sharp had lodged itself there, and after a long moment, I managed to speak. I said, my voice unsteady, "My stomach's been off. I don't want anything sweet right now."
Charles' smile faded. He said, "Your stomach again? Susan, be good. I put real effort into this, so take one bite for me, and then I'll make you some soup to settle your stomach after, okay?"
He scooped out the section with the most dirt and held the spoon up to my lips.
I looked straight into his eyes and searched for any trace of guilt.
There was nothing.
His gaze was steady and sincere, like he genuinely believed he was offering me something precious and didn't want me to refuse.
I pushed the ache down and gave a slight nod. I said softly, "Okay. I'll eat it."
The dirt hit my tongue and ground against my gums, sharp and gritty.
I knew a hidden camera was recording somewhere, capturing every second of this.
And Vivian, watching from the livestream, was probably laughing her head off by now.
Charles set down the cake with a satisfied look and headed to the kitchen to make me some soup.
I watched him disappear through the doorway and felt a chill settle deep in my chest.
He knew my stomach condition was serious, but he hadn't hesitated for a second to make me eat that dirt-covered cake to keep Vivian happy.
He had no love left for me at all.
I never got to drink the soup he made because the stomach cramps hit so hard that I ended up in the ER getting my stomach pumped.
When I was barely conscious, I heard someone speaking to me in a soft, gentle voice.
"Hang in there, Susan. The pain will be gone soon."
I couldn't tell if I was dreaming, but when I finally came to, Charles was slumped over the edge of my hospital bed, fast asleep.
His face was creased with exhaustion, and it looked like he had been there for hours.
His phone kept buzzing on the bedside table, so I picked it up and found a group chat full of messages from his friends.
One of them had written: [Mr. Ford, the video of Susan eating dirt today was hilarious. I've already watched it ten times!]
Another replied: [I know, right? But why did you rush her to the hospital so fast? Don't tell me you actually care about her.]
Charles had responded: [Don't joke around. I don't want Vivian seeing this.]
Then he added: [I'm just playing the part all the way through. If I don't keep her convinced now, how am I supposed to get her to cooperate later?]