Chapter 1

I spent nine years filming a "perfect marriage" for my husband. The day our account hit one million followers, he let another woman take my place as the wife on camera.

Ten minutes before the livestream, I was in the equipment room clipping on my microphone.

For the first time in years, I had let someone else do my makeup. I wore the green jacket Ethan once said made my eyes look brighter.

At one million, our followers were finally supposed to meet me.

Ethan walked in and shut the door.

"Maya, plans changed."

I looked up.

"What changed?"

"Sloane is doing the reveal."

For a second, I thought I had heard him wrong.

Then Sloane stepped in behind him.

She was already wearing the cream sponsor jacket prepared for the stream. The matching one meant for me was still hanging beside my bag.

I looked at Ethan.

"You told people they were finally meeting your wife."

"They are meeting the person who will be on camera with me going forward."

"That wasn't my question."

His jaw tightened.

"The brand thinks Sloane tests better visually. We have nine minutes. I'm not blowing up a million-follower event over this."

For nine years, Ethan and I had built the account together. Every viral clip, every anniversary post, every "perfect husband" moment had passed through my camera first.

Now we had finally reached a million.

Apparently, the only thing that needed replacing was my face.

Sloane lifted both hands.

"If Maya doesn't want this, I can step out."

But she did not move.

Ethan looked at me instead.

"Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

That was when I understood the decision had already been made.

He was not asking me.

He was asking me to help him make it smooth.

Someone outside called, "Two minutes!"

I took off my microphone.

Ethan's eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing?"

"My job."

I picked up Camera Two.

The livestream started.

Ethan smiled into the lens like nothing had happened.

"We made it. One million."

Comments flooded the monitor.

Where is she?

Are we finally meeting your wife?

Then Sloane walked into frame.

The numbers jumped.

There she is!

Your wife is gorgeous.

Finally! You two look perfect together.

I watched Ethan read the same comments I was reading.

All he had to say was, "Sloane isn't my wife."

Five words.

He said none of them.

Instead, he smiled and put a hand lightly against Sloane's back, guiding her closer to his mark.

The comments exploded with hearts.

Sloane laughed.

Ethan thanked everyone for "being with us all these years."

Us.

I kept the shot steady.

Nine years behind a camera had trained my hands well.

I had filmed Ethan in storms, on cliffs, in freezing rivers, and through entire nights without sleep. I had made him look calm when he was exhausted, warm when he was irritated, romantic when I had written the line for him five minutes earlier.

Now I was filming him stand beside another woman while a million people congratulated them on my marriage.

The producer beside me whispered, "This is going crazy. Look at engagement."

I looked.

The numbers were excellent.

That was probably all Ethan saw too. Not the woman he had married. Not the promise he had made. Just a number climbing in the corner of a screen.

A million followers had finally met "Ethan's wife."

The real one was holding the camera.