Chapter 1
On our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband slid divorce papers across the table.
"Serena, my mom's sick—really sick," he said, his voice cracking. "She's not gonna make it, and her dying wish is for us to split.
"It's just temporary, I promise. Once she's gone, we'll tie the knot again."
He looked so wrecked, eyes red and hollow, that my heart caved. I said yes.
Worst decision ever. Barely a week after we signed the papers, Caesar's Instagram lit up with wedding photos—him and his high school sweetheart, all smiles.
And his "dying" mom? Beaming in the background, looking like she could run a marathon.
*****
"Serena, when did you and Caesar split?" My best friend Laurel's brows knit together, worry etched all over her face. "Why didn't you tell me something this huge?"
I stared at her, totally thrown.
Caesar and I had agreed to keep the "fake divorce" under wraps. How the hell did she know?
"Where'd you hear that?" I asked, my voice wobbling.
Laurel's jaw dropped, her tone pure shock. "You're joking, right? Caesar's blasting his new marriage license all over Insta with some other woman!"
She kept talking, but my brain hit a wall.
Caesar's posting a marriage license? The words looped in my head, drowning out everything else.
No way. This had to be a prank.
"You're pulling my leg, aren't you?" I managed, my voice barely a whisper.
Caesar and I were solid.
When he pitched the fake divorce, he was a mess—tears in his eyes, voice breaking. Every detail of that moment was seared into me. How could he just up and marry someone else?
But Laurel's next words smashed my last shred of hope.
"I'm not joking, Serena. It's real," she said.
Panic clawed at me. I scrambled for my phone, hands shaking so bad I could hardly dial Caesar's number.
But all I got was that cold, robotic voicemail message.
I dove into our text thread, and my stomach dropped.
It was just me—message after message of my life, my love, my stupid little updates. No replies. For weeks. How had I missed this? Every word I'd sent now felt like a slap in the face.
Desperate, I opened his instagram, only to realize he'd blocked me.
Laurel forwarded me the photos. My hands were trembling so much I could barely tap to open them.
There she was—Oriel Hayes, Caesar's high school flame.
I'd seen her at our wedding, all decked out in a fancy gown, hovering by Caesar like she was the one saying "I do."
I'd asked him point-blank if there was still something between them.
He'd shot it down, no hesitation. "Nah, that's ancient history."
But now? In the photo, they were grinning like newlyweds, practically glowing.
The sight stabbed me right in the heart, and tears spilled over before I could stop them.
[Caesar, say something!] I typed, my fingers frantic.
[You wouldn't lie to me, right? This is all fake, isn't it?]
[You didn't marry her, did you?]
The messages vanished into the void. No response. Not even a "read" receipt.
I was falling apart. On autopilot, I raced to the hospital, only to learn his mom had never been admitted.
All those times Caesar choked up about her "illness," how he'd dropped weight in days, looking so broken it physically hurt to see him—was it all a lie? A perfectly staged con?
If he wanted out, why not just man up and say it? I'm not some clingy ex who'd beg him to stay.
I needed to find him. I needed the truth, straight from his mouth.