Chapter 1
Everyone said I wasn't good enough for Charlotte Hayes.
She was the nation's sweetheart, a top-tier host with a decade of scandal-free fame. Poised, sharp, and always put-together, she was the kind of woman everyone admired, the one they called the "dream girl on stage."
And me? I was just a businessman who started out in the content platform business and clawed my way up.
People said I reeked of money, with a reputation for using shady tactics in the business world. Standing next to her, I was like a black dog crashing a lake full of swans.
But this black dog spent seven years and one billion dollars, taking her from a small-time local host to the queen of the New Year's Eve show, front and center, the top star everyone watched.
Five years into our marriage, she told me she wanted to keep her independent image and didn't want our relationship to become just another headline.
I couldn't say no to her.
She said she didn't want kids, afraid it would slow down her rise to the top.
I gave in again. Whatever she wanted, I let her have it.
But on our anniversary, she took down the pinned post about our marriage and replaced it with a teaser for a new male host's red carpet appearance.
At nine that night, I'd been waiting for her at the restaurant for three hours. Instead of her showing up, I got a screenshot from my friend, Ryan Bennett.
The new host, Ethan Miles, was sitting in my private lounge, wearing the custom-tailored suit jacket I'd ordered for Charlotte.
Charlotte was crouched in front of him, tying his shoelaces.
Ethan's caption read:
[The nation's sweetheart just tied my shoelaces. Tonight, I'm the one in the spotlight.]
Right after, Charlotte posted on her feed, too.
Just one line.
[If you've got the guts to step on stage, I'll be right there beside you, helping you win.]
That was when it hit me.
Our marriage was over.
*****
I stared at that screenshot for what felt like forever.
So long that the restaurant manager came over for the third time, asking if I wanted anything warmed up.
I waved him off.
The red wine had been breathing for two hours, the steak had hardened into a block, and the 'Happy 5th Anniversary' on the cake had dissolved into a mess of cream.
I'd planned to ask Charlotte for an answer tonight.
All these years, she'd always said she was busy.
Busy with shows, busy with galas, busy with interviews, busy sitting on the judges' panel at hosting competitions.
I understood, I really did.
Because if anyone knew just how much she'd hustled to get here, it was me.
But no matter how packed her schedule was, she always made time for me on this day.
She'd sit across from me, take off her earpiece, let go of that gentle, distant smile she wore for the cameras, and say to me in a low voice:
"Leonard, another year gone by," she'd say.
But this year, nothing.
Not only did she not show up, but she also took down our wedding announcement from her pinned post.
Instead, she pinned a post about Ethan.
I opened Twitter.
On Charlotte's profile, the pinned post that used to say "Looking forward to spending the rest of my life with Mr. Carter" was gone.
Now, it was replaced by a promo for her show.
In the photo, Ethan was at the center of the stage in a black suit, with Charlotte standing just half a step behind him, her hand gently placed on his shoulder.
The comments section was blowing up.
[Charlotte is totally spoiling the newbie!]
[Ethan's like her own puppy, she practically raised him!]
[Who's Leonard? Stay out of this, she's finally all about her career!]
I let out a bitter laugh.
Her fans had never liked me.
They said I was controlling, holding her back, and using my money to ruin her reputation.
But they had no clue that when Charlotte first landed her spot at the provincial TV station, I was the one who stepped in and took her place at those sponsor drinking parties.
For her first breakout show, I stayed up all night and sold off two projects to get her a prime-time slot.
When she finally made it to the New Year's Eve stage, I drank with the station bosses until my stomach bled, just so she could close out the show with the headline interview.
She stayed spotless because someone else handled all the dirty work for her.
That someone? Me.
I dialed Charlotte's number.
No answer the first time.
The second time, the line was busy.
On the third try, someone finally picked up.
But it wasn't Charlotte who picked up. It was a guy.
His voice sounded young, with a forced, low laugh, like he was trying to act older.
"Mr. Carter, Charlotte's getting changed right now. She can't take your call," Ethan said.
My grip on the phone tightened.
"Put her on," I said, my voice icy.
Ethan gave a low, almost mocking chuckle.
"Mr. Carter, it's rehearsal night and Charlotte's really tied up. If you've got something to say, just let me know, I'll make sure she gets the message," Ethan said.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" I snapped.
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Then Charlotte's voice came through, cold and indifferent.
"Leonard, what are you making a fuss about?" Charlotte asked.
I let out a dry laugh.
"Do you even know what today is?" I asked.
She paused.
"I know. It's our anniversary.
"And?
"There's a last-minute rehearsal for the show, I really can't leave. I had my assistant drop your gift off at home. Don't overthink it."
Her voice was tired, and there was a touch of impatience in it.
Like she was dealing with a stubborn kid who just didn't get it.
I closed my eyes.
"I saw what Ethan posted," I said.