In an instant, the internet exploded. Thousands of fans flooded their posts with comments, all congratulating the perfect couple.

"Oh my god, my ship has finally sailed!"

"They're so perfect for each other, please get married right now!"

Many fans started digging up old clips of Caleb and Skylar interacting at various events.

"They're truly a match made in heaven! So compatible. This is the sweetest couple ever!"

"Agreed! They should get married immediately. They look so perfect together! I believe in love again!"

I scanned the comments, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. Then, I dialed Caleb's number.

"Oh... Cal, don't..."

The moment the call connected, I was met with Skylar's feigned moans and Caleb's ragged breaths. His voice was a husky growl, thick with lust. "Baby, I'm close..." The call lasted only a few seconds before it was abruptly disconnected.

Nausea and a tidal wave of rage crashed over me. That night, I posted a photo of our Nevada marriage certificate on my private account.

The next day, I booked the earliest flight to Los Angeles. I was going to find out just how long Caleb could keep up this charade.

However, overnight, my Instagram account was completely inundated with hateful comments.

Suddenly, I was a headline, too. The number one trending topic read: "Desperate Fan Fakes Marriage Certificate to Trap Hollywood Superstar Caleb Thorne."

Less than ten minutes later, Caleb posted a response on Instagram. He admitted to dating me in college but claimed we had amicably parted ways long ago.

He claimed the only person he truly loved now was Skylar.

Thousands of fans commented on his new post. Most of them were cursing me out.

"So shameless! They broke up ages ago, and now she's forging a marriage certificate? Talk about desperate for attention!"

"She's reached a new level of shamelessness."

"Get lost and stay away from Caleb! He deserves better!"

"Caleb doesn't love you anymore! Get a clue and get out of his life!"

Just as I got off the plane, a call came from Caleb.

He told me to meet him at his mansion in Beverly Hills.

But an urgent work matter pulled me away. I had to handle a corporate crisis first, so it wasn't until nearly midnight that I finally rushed over to the mansion.

I didn't expect him to be waiting, but he'd apparently been stewing in his mansion all day.

I walked in to see him sitting on the living room sofa. The moment he saw me, he immediately rounded on me. "It's midnight! Where the hell have you been?"

Exhausted from the sudden work crisis, I had barely sunk into the sofa when he started yelling. His audacity made me laugh in disbelief. "You cheated, and you have the nerve to yell at me? You should be grateful I even showed up."

He froze at the word "cheated." After a moment, he collected himself and softened his tone, trying to justify his actions. "I’m the star of two box-office-shattering films. You're not good enough for me anymore."

"Oh? Not good enough for you? Care to explain that? I think I'm doing just fine as the CEO of Sterling Strategies."

"Ha!" Caleb scoffed, looking at me with utter disdain. "I'm a Hollywood A-lister worth hundreds of millions. And you? You're just the owner of some little branding firm in New York. We're not in the same league anymore, Genevieve."

His words wrung a sharp, bitter laugh from me.

"Then what about the five million dollars I put up for you back then?"

"It's just five million dollars! If you want it, I can give you ten times that amount," Caleb said, rising to his feet to loom over me, his expression pure contempt. He let out a disdainful snort and turned to leave.

I scrambled to stop him, but he roughly shoved me against the wall.

"Enough, Genevieve! Stop clinging to me like a goddamn leech. You're pathetic!"

Caleb kicked over our only photo together, shattering the frame. "Fuck this," he snarled, then stormed out without a backward glance.

I slid down the wall and slumped onto the carpet, pressing my tongue hard against the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. Fury, hot and sharp, burned through me.

I immediately thought of a thousand ways to make this scumbag pay. No matter what, I was going to destroy him completely.

My mother was right. The handsome ones are always bastards.

The next day, the paparazzi somehow got photos of me looking disheveled as I entered his mansion late at night, and even more of a wreck when I left moments later. They even managed to get a few close-ups of me slumped on the carpet.

I was trending again. This time, it wasn't just Caleb and Skylar's fans; even casual bystanders joined in on the vicious comments about me.

"My God, is this woman a parasite who can't live without him? She actually knelt and begged him to get back together! So pathetic!"

"I'm not a fan of anyone, but this woman truly disgusts me. Does she not understand what a breakup means? Gross."

Soon, my personal information and my client list were plastered all over the internet. I started receiving all sorts of malicious mail—bloody razor blades, dead rats, and even photoshopped pictures of my face on obscene images.

Someone even found a photo of me talking and clinking glasses with a Silicon Valley investor. There was nothing inappropriate in the picture at all.

However, people started twisting the facts, claiming I was trading sexual favors with Silicon Valley bigwigs for business.

I was trending for so long the platform should have been paying me for ad space. Everywhere I looked, the comment sections were a cesspool of false accusations from trolls.

"With so many big-shot clients, she must be rolling in it! Haha! So glad Caleb broke up with her!"

"So shameless! I wonder how much she charges for a night. No wonder her company gets so much business! If it were me, I'd be a CEO by now! Hahaha!"

Even the smaller companies I worked with took a major hit to their stock prices. Thousands of fans boycotted their products. Some crazy fans even started spreading rumors that my company was evading taxes.

It was the classic playbook for destroying a woman: spread vicious lies, whip the public into a frenzy, and use the sheer force of online hate to push her toward self-destruction.

But I am not the type to go down quietly. I wouldn't let them get away with it. They would answer for every single word they typed.