A fever of 103°F hit me in the middle of the night. I called Prudence Delgado. No answer.

Half-delirious, I used her secondary card to buy some fever medicine.

By the next morning, "Solomon Henson: Gold-Digger" was trending.

The endorsement deal I'd fought tooth and nail to land got canceled. My reputation—already hanging by a thread—was destroyed overnight. I'd barely clawed my way back from bankruptcy, and now I was drowning all over again.

I had no choice but to find Prudence and explain myself. Apologize.

But as I reached the door of her private room, I heard her voice—mocking, amused.

"You know the best way to control a man?"

"It's not spending money on him. It's making him owe you."

"Wreck his career. Bury him in debt."

"After that, he couldn't leave even if he wanted to."

I stared at the contract in my hand. The penalty clause. The astronomical sum I'd owe if I walked away.

And suddenly, I understood.

Why my family went bankrupt. Why my career had stalled for years.

Every miserable thing that had happened to me—all of it traced back to Prudence Delgado.

1.

While I stood there frozen, my phone buzzed with dozens of new messages. Hate mail.

The same garbage over and over.

Greedy. Shameless. A leopard can't change its spots.

Prudence is so good to him and he still doesn't appreciate her.

Someone found my hometown address. Sent funeral wreaths and dead rats to my family.

Someone dug up every project I'd ever worked on and demanded they all be pulled from streaming.

My social media was a cesspool. Every comment section flooded with venom.

People photoshopped my face into memes—vicious, degrading ones.

The mob screamed for me to leave the industry. Disappear from public life.

All because I bought a box of fever medicine with Prudence's card.

I couldn't help it—I tracked down the original post. The one that started it all.

It read:

"This S-surnamed celebrity is the most shameless person I've ever seen."

"His family went bankrupt and some rich woman bailed him out with billions in investments."

"Did he show any gratitude? No—he schemed his way into her bed like a kept man."

"Years of marriage, burning through her money, and his private life is a mess."

"He makes tens of millions per endorsement, but he stiffs his own staff on wages. Can't even pay for a box of cold medicine himself."

"I've never seen a celebrity this cheap and petty."

The post was surgical. Designed to destroy me.

Not a single word about everything I'd done for Prudence over the years.

Just that box of medicine—$2.49—weaponized against me.

It's the little things that reveal someone's true character, they said.

Lies dressed up as insight.

Yesterday's fever had left me too dazed to think straight. But today, with a clearer head, I finally saw it.

The person who wrote that post was Prudence's new secretary—Jackson Pruitt.

I'd met the guy before.

Young. Good-looking. Bad attitude. Every time he saw me, he glared like I'd insulted his mother.

At first, I figured talented people were just eccentric.

Now I understood. He'd seen me as the enemy from day one.

I clicked through to his profile. It was full of posts about his life with Prudence.

Ski trips. Galas. Wine estates.

A curated feed of wealth and glamour.

But one photo hit me like a punch to the gut.

Last night's charity gala.

Jackson Pruitt in a designer suit worth more than most cars. Jewelry that cost more than most houses. Standing beside Prudence under the spotlight, the two of them giving interviews together.

And just like that, it all made sense.

Why the organizers had suddenly revoked my invitation.

Why Prudence hadn't answered my calls last night.

She'd already replaced me with Jackson.

And now her new favorite—with her blessing—couldn't wait to tear me down so he could rise.

I couldn't help but look up at the people laughing and chatting inside the private room.

Under the dim, seductive lighting, Prudence and Jackson were drinking from a shared glass, lips pressed together.

Jackson pretended to stumble into Prudence's arms, his face flushing red as the others egged them on.

One of her friends teased with a laugh.

"Prudence, you really know how to play the game."

"You got your hands on a gorgeous guy like Solomon without spending a dime, and he's been devoted to you for years."

"But aren't you worried he'll find out and lose it on you?"

Prudence lifted Jackson's hand to her lips and kissed it lightly, then laughed as if it were nothing.

"You know how much Solomon's penalty for breach of contract is?"

"Eight hundred million."

"Without me, he'd never pay that off in his lifetime."

"So no matter what happens, he has no choice but to stay right by my side like a good boy."

She leaned back, smugly sharing her secrets for "keeping a husband in line" with everyone around her.

How she'd bankrupted my family's company, then swooped in like a hero to win my heart.

How she'd used a box of fever medicine to destroy my reputation and career, leaving me no choice but to stay trapped beside her.

As she spoke, her face glowed with pride.

She had no idea that outside the door, tears were streaming down my face.

I remembered when I first met Prudence. I was at the lowest point of my life.

My family's company had gone bankrupt. My father had killed himself out of despair.

My mother, who'd never weathered a single storm, had a heart attack and ended up in the hospital.

To make money, I threw myself into any work I could get—acting jobs, anything.

But I was tangled up in lawsuits back then. Every actor and director who'd once been friendly with me suddenly wanted nothing to do with me.

Only Prudence stepped forward to help.

That day was bright and sunny. She crouched down in front of me and smiled.

"Solomon, I've seen your work."

"You're pure, beautiful—nothing like all those people chasing fame and fortune."

"Give me a chance. Let me do something for you."

Before I could even react, she was already taking action.

She paid off every debt my family owed in one sweep.

She found the best specialists to treat my mother.

Designer jewelry, a mansion, diamond rings—Prudence gave them without hesitation.

When she found out I loved animals, she threw money around like it was nothing.

Right in the heart of Crown City, where land cost a fortune, she built me a sprawling estate that covered several acres.

Everyone said I was lucky to have found a golden goose like Prudence.

She single-handedly lifted me from a nobody to an A-list star.

Back then, I was young and naive.

I didn't understand how quickly things could change, or how cruel people could be.

I fell for her warmth and generosity.

Then came our wedding day, and Prudence said to me:

"Solomon, I've been burned before. The thing I hate most in this world is a gold-digger."

"I want our relationship to be free of any ulterior motives."

For that reason, she'd prepared a special divorce agreement.

The terms were crystal clear.

Prudence would only take a salary of one dollar per year.

If we divorced, the only asset I could claim was that single dollar.

To put her mind at ease, to prove my feelings were real—

I signed my name on that agreement without a second thought.

But after we married, I discovered the truth.

Prudence's scheming ran far deeper than I'd realized.

Every investment she'd made in my family had been structured as a loan.

Every single cent had to be repaid—with interest.

All that jewelry? Registered under Old Mrs. Gillian Delgado's name.

I didn't just lack ownership—every time I wore those pieces, I had to pay a hefty rental fee.

The so-called luxury mansion and cars? Only the down payments had been covered. The massive loans that remained were mine to pay off.

On top of that, the prenuptial agreement spelled it out clearly.

As Prudence Delgado's husband, I was obligated to maintain the image of the Delgado family and their company.

I had to accompany Prudence to all kinds of events, serve as an unpaid spokesperson for their products.

I had to buy designer jewelry out of my own pocket just to keep up appearances.

The packed schedule and endless social obligations ate up every moment I had.

My career—once at its peak—collapsed.

And my savings, already running thin, were bled dry.

It wasn't like I'd never complained to Prudence about it.

But every time, she'd just hold me and say:

"Solomon, I don't want this either."

"But the Delgado empire is too big. I can't override the Board's decisions."

"Just bear with it a little longer. Once I've taken over everything, I'll make it up to you for all your hard work!"

So I endured. For three years.

Three years of pouring out my heart, giving everything I had.

And what did I get in return? My family destroyed. My reputation in ruins.

And thanks to Prudence's scheming, an astronomical breach-of-contract penalty hanging over my head.

All that so-called love. All that so-called sincerity.

From the very beginning, it had been nothing but a calculated scheme to suck me dry.

I couldn't hold back anymore.

I practically fled into the bathroom, sobbing uncontrollably.

The running water drowned out my cries.

When I finally looked up, Jackson Pruitt was standing right in front of me.

He was dressed in some designer outfit that probably cost more than most people's rent.

His eyes were full of satisfaction as he looked at me.

"Solomon, you heard everything we said just now, didn't you?"

"Heartbroken? Devastated? And absolutely helpless to do anything about it?"

"Here's some friendly advice—just be a good boy and divorce Prudence."

"While you've still got a little fame left, go shoot some skin flicks, find yourself a sugar daddy. You'll pay off those debts eventually."

"Otherwise, once your looks fade and you get kicked to the curb, life's going to get real hard."

He saw my weakness. He understood exactly where it hurt.

So every word was a knife aimed straight at my wounds.

When I didn't respond, Jackson leaned in closer.

In a voice only the two of us could hear, like a devil whispering:

"Oh, and there's something else you probably don't know."

"I'm the one who drafted your prenup. And your family's bankruptcy? I engineered that too."

"So don't think you can get rid of me."

"I'm nothing like a pretty face like you. I'm the one who deserves to be at Prudence's side in the end."

That vicious look on Jackson's face brought back the memory of my father's eyes—hopeless, in his final moments.

I couldn't hold back anymore. My hand flew across his face.

The slap had barely landed when a force shoved me hard to the side.

Prudence had appeared out of nowhere, shielding Jackson.

Her face was full of concern as she examined the faint red mark on his cheek.

Those eyes that once looked at me so tenderly now barely concealed her fury.

"Solomon, what are you doing?!"

"Apologize to Jackson. Now."

"Do you have any idea what it would do to the company's image if someone saw this?!"

She felt sorry for Jackson. She cared about the company.

But she hadn't noticed at all—my face, already dead inside.

I slowly got to my feet. The words came out through clenched teeth.

"Prudence. Let's get a divorce."