Chapter 1

At the family gathering, relatives showered Dylan Miller and me with praise, calling us the "perfect couple."

Dylan's mother, Emily Miller, tugged me aside and pressed a medical report into my hands, hinting it was time I got my body baby-ready.

I was barely taking the folder when a line of glowing comments scrolled across my vision.

[That medical report is fake. Ruth is one hundred percent healthy.]

[Dylan and his mom have been scheming for months. They're pinning the infertility label on Ruth so he can kick her out and install that sweet secretary as the new Mrs. Mille.]

[Look at the secretary. She's sitting in the corner posing as some long-lost cousin, waiting to take Ruth's place.]

I glanced at Dylan. He was deep in conversation with the secretary, his eyes lit with a tenderness he couldn't hide.

Emily patted my hand. "Ruth, sweetheart, babies are a blessing from the Lord, but we can't sit back and wait on miracles."

[That was close. Ruth almost got framed as the barren ex-wife.]

[Spill the tea. How did the secretary and Dylan hook up?]

My marriage, I realized, had been a carefully staged scam from the very beginning.

I tucked the report away with a smile and walked over to Dylan and the secretary. "Dylan, since you're in such a rush for a child, why don't we adopt?

"After all, a man with your fertility issues is one in a million."

The chat and my in-laws were all left speechless.

[What? Plot Twist. Dylan's the one shooting blanks.]

*****

As I stepped out of the Miller residence, the night breeze hit me, and I realized my back was drenched in sweat.

The golden pop-up comments were still floating in front of my eyes, but now they were saying something new.

[Ruth's move was epic. But I swear Dylan didn't have this issue in the original story.]

[Ruth was totally bluffing. Did you see how nervous Dylan got?]

My knuckles whitened around my purse strap.

I'd been bluffing, betting that Dylan's "appendectomy" was a sham and that his years of brushing me off and giving me the runaround hid something rotten. And by sheer dumb luck, I'd hit the nail on the head.

"Ruth, hold on," Dylan called, chasing after me. His collar was crooked, and his face was still plastered with that phony, desperate smile he wore after freaking out.

He said, "Honey, listen. With all those people there, I couldn't exactly admit it. I was protecting my pride."

He tried to grab my hand, but I sidestepped him. "My cousin really did have food poisoning. Why are you reading so much into it?"

I stopped and turned to look at him.

The streetlight made his face, always so gentle and considerate, look almost ghostly pale.

I'd loved this face for five years.

For five years, I'd endured endless hormone injections and painful fertility treatments, all to try and conceive.

Every single time, Dylan would squeeze my hand and say, "You've sacrificed so much, sweetheart. With or without a baby, I love you."

So, after all that, what did I end up with?

The floating comments popped up again.

[Dylan is such a jerk. He only married Ruth because she was easy to manipulate.]

[Obviously. Ruth's family has some cash, and she's basically his live-in maid for free. That secretary? He actually has to shell out real money for her.]

My stomach turned, but I swallowed the feeling and forced a weary smile. "Dylan, I'm exhausted. I'm heading to my parents' place tonight."

Dylan's face froze, panic flickering in his eyes. "Ruth, don't start drama. Mom's still pissed. If you leave now, what will everyone think tomorrow?"

"Then go set the record straight with your mom about whether I can have kids or not." I fixed him with a stare. "If you can't clear things up, we're through."

With that, I ignored his shouts behind me and flagged down a cab.

Once I was in the car, I finally let my guard down and slumped into the back seat.

My phone buzzed. It was Emily blowing up my inbox with voice messages.

Every single one was a sixty-second rant, calling me a bad daughter-in-law and saying I didn't appreciate anything.

I didn't bother opening them. I switched my phone to silent.

The city lights outside the cab window sped by in reverse, like my five years trapped in this ridiculous marriage.

The pop-up comments kept flooding in.

[What's Ruth gonna do next? She's gotta get a divorce.]

[But Ruth doesn't have any solid evidence yet. If she's relying on that bluff from earlier, Dylan could totally deny everything later.]

True enough. I made a scene at the party, but all it did was embarrass Dylan and Emily. It didn't do any real damage.

I still needed to get my hands on real evidence about that secretary and Dylan shifting his assets around.