The boy I'd loved since childhood, Darren Farley, finalized his divorce and proposed to me the very next day, right there in front of everyone.

He dropped to one knee, his eyes brimming with sincerity and devotion.

"Jules, she and I were nothing but a business arrangement. There was never any real feeling between us."

"I'm done lying to myself. You're the one I truly love. Will you marry me?"

The whole world called me a homewrecker, said I was the other woman who'd clawed her way in. But those two sentences were all it took.

I ignored every whisper, every accusation, and married him without looking back.

Darren was like a teenager drunk on first love. For an entire week after the wedding, he barely let me out of bed.

After yet another round, he curled around me from behind, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on my lower belly, his voice thick with anticipation.

"Baby, do you think there might already be a little piece of us right here?"

I smiled, about to answer.

The phone on his nightstand lit up.

"Honey, today's the last day of Juliana Henson's fertile window. Go a few extra rounds and make sure she conceives."

"Give it your all, but don't you dare catch feelings for the surrogate!"

I knew that profile picture better than anyone.

It belonged to Darren's ex-wife, Kitty Sullivan.

...

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, shocking me out of the warmth I'd been drowning in.

Darren shot upright and snatched the phone away.

The arm that had been wrapped around my waist was already gone. A chill crept across my bare skin where his warmth had been.

He stared at my back, a careful edge to his voice.

"Jules... what did you see?"

I could feel the scrutiny in his gaze. Slowly, I rolled over.

I rubbed my eyes as if I'd been half-asleep.

"Hmm? I must've dozed off."

"What's wrong? Who messaged you? Someone placing a dessert order?"

Darren's shoulders loosened, the tension draining out of him so subtly it was almost imperceptible.

He smiled, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"Nothing. Just spam."

"You must be exhausted. Get a little more rest. I'll hop in the shower, then run a bath to clean you up."

I watched him leave, phone clutched tight in his hand, his pace just a fraction too quick.

My heart sank, slow and heavy, like a stone settling into deep water.

He'd deleted Kitty from his contacts right in front of me once, a grand gesture to prove his sincerity, to keep me from overthinking or getting jealous.

So what had I just seen?

Water hit the bathroom tiles, the sound sharp and distinct.

Instinct told me Darren wasn't actually showering.

After a moment's hesitation, I reached for the laptop on the nightstand.

He'd stayed up too late on a video call the night before and had forgotten to log out of WhatsApp.

Probably because I never touched his things, the screen wasn't locked.

I tapped the icon, and the breath stalled in my chest.

Since the wedding, Darren had only ever called me by my nickname, Jules, whether in conversation or in his contacts.

The only time "baby" slipped out was in the heat of the moment.

But his name for Kitty in his contacts was Wifey.

The chat window was still refreshing, their conversation updating in real time.

"Honey, why aren't you answering me? Don't tell me you've actually caught feelings sleeping with that little tramp?"

"Don't forget, Juliana Henson's marriage certificate with you is FAKE. I'm your wife. The one the law actually recognizes!"

Half a minute later, Darren replied.

"Stop being paranoid. Why would I fall for someone who's been throwing herself at me?"

"I only went the extra mile to get her pregnant faster. If you could carry a child yourself, I wouldn't need her as our surrogate, and I wouldn't have had to stage a divorce to keep my parents off our backs."

"Once the baby's born, she's served her purpose. I'll drop her the second it's over."

Only then did Kitty calm down, placated enough to send a kissing emoji.

"Hmph, who told her to cling to you since they were kids? She should take a good look in the mirror."

"I want Juliana to know that a parasite like her, someone who latches onto the Farley family using her parents' sacrifice, is only good enough to be our breeding tool."

"But babe, every time I think about you being with her, I get so mad... How about I mess with her a little? Let me blow off some steam, okay? Otherwise I'm going to stress myself into a tumor."

A moment later, Darren's reply stabbed into my eyes.

"Whatever. Just don't actually hurt her. Can't have it affecting her ability to conceive."

My fingers clenched so hard they went white. My whole body shook and wouldn't stop.

I still remembered how I'd felt the day Darren handed me that marriage certificate.

Like a dream coming true. So happy I couldn't sleep the entire night.

Under the warm glow of the bedside lamp, I'd traced my fingers over it again and again, so carefully, like it might crumble if I held it too tight.

And now I was being told it was all fake.

The proposal. The confession. The months of tenderness and devotion.

All of it, an act.

I was nothing to him but a vessel to carry his and Kitty's child.

By the time Darren came out of the bathroom, I'd already put the laptop back in its place.

I watched him do what he always did, gently wiping my body down with a warm towel, attentive, caring.

And yet a bone-deep cold crawled over me. I flinched away before I could think.

Darren froze. He looked at me, confused.

"Jules, what's wrong? Is the towel too hot?"

I hugged my knees to my chest and shook my head, then asked softly:

"Do you ever lie to me?"

Guilt flickered through his eyes, gone in a flash. He let out a helpless little laugh.

"Silly girl. When have I ever been willing to lie to you? Not once, our whole lives."

He ruffled my hair.

"Didn't you stop calling me 'big brother' when you turned fifteen?"

"Good girl. From now on, call me 'husband.' Don't worry. Your husband will only ever love you and protect you."

If I hadn't seen those messages, I think I would have been moved.

But now, all I tasted was bitterness.

When I was eight, my parents died in an earthquake, crushed under rubble while saving Darren's life.

The Farleys took me in out of gratitude and raised me as their own.

And Darren had held me like something precious, promising he'd protect me forever.

But he hadn't just broken that promise. He'd woven this nightmare around me with his own hands.

After breakfast, I drove to my dessert shop.

I loved baking, and I'd never wanted to be a freeloader under the Farleys' roof. So after college, I'd used the money my parents left me to open this place.

When I arrived, a crowd had gathered out front.

I walked closer, puzzled, and found seven or eight thugs grinning as they sprayed graffiti across the door and floor-to-ceiling windows.

Words like homewrecker and whore in neon paint.

I frowned, about to speak.

An entire bucket of red paint came crashing down over my head.

Kitty stood there with one hand on her hip, sneering at me.

"Oh, look who showed up! Everyone, come see! This is the tramp who's been after my husband since she was a little girl."

"Less than a year after our wedding, she crawled into my husband's bed and forced him to take responsibility. He had no choice but to divorce me!"

"Tell me, doesn't a homewrecking slut like this deserve every drop? And the parents who raised a daughter like this, didn't they deserve exactly what they got?!"

People are quick to pick sides, even when they don't know the truth.

The women passing by started piling on immediately.

"Exactly! A grown woman could do anything with her life, but she's that desperate for a man? Why not just sell herself on the street? Shameless!"

"She always looked so quiet and innocent. I thought she was a decent person. Turns out she's rotten to the core!"

I stared at the smug expression on Kitty's face.

It hit me all at once. This was what she'd meant in her WhatsApp message. Blowing off steam.

Kitty had never liked me, because she knew I'd had feelings for Darren. After they got married, I'd kept my distance. I spent most of my time living at the shop just to avoid any appearance of impropriety. On the rare occasions we crossed paths, I called her "sis" like a good girl and never once stepped out of line. I even swallowed every passive-aggressive jab she threw my way without complaint.

But now? They'd used my feelings. Played me for a fool.

So why should I—why should my family—be the ones dragged through the mud?

For the first time, I didn't want to back down.

I raised my hand to strike, but someone seized my wrist in a crushing grip.

Darren swept a glance over the paint splattered across my body, then frowned at Kitty.

"What the hell is wrong with you now?"

There was no real bite to it. No anger. Meanwhile, his grip on my wrist was iron-tight, as though he were terrified I might actually hit someone.

Kitty pointed at me, her voice dripping with wounded innocence.

"Darren, she's the one who wrecked our marriage. She forced you to divorce me and marry her. All I did was splash a little paint to vent. That's not unreasonable, is it?"

"And then she wouldn't even admit it. She was about to hit me."

"So go ahead, tell everyone right now. Is she the other woman or not? Clear it up, so nobody thinks I'm making this up!"

The crowd murmured in agreement.

"Yeah, you're the one involved. Who's telling the truth here?"

I lifted my eyes and met Darren's gaze.

A flicker of hope stirred in my chest.

But then he spoke.

"That's a private matter. No comment."

He turned to Kitty, his tone laced with indulgence and mild exasperation.

"You've had your fun. Go home. Don't let it happen again."

Kitty clung to his arm, simpering, and shot me a triumphant look.

"Fine, fine, I get it."

She turned to the crowd, voice pitched loud enough for every last person to hear. "See? He basically admitted it. He's just not saying it outright to save a certain tramp a shred of dignity."

"Boys, tear this homewrecker's shop apart!"

Darren pulled me into the car. He took a wet wipe and started cleaning the paint off my face.

Through the window, I watched the shop I'd poured my heart into being destroyed. Smashed beyond recognition. The same customers who had once smiled at me were now spitting at the entrance.

I turned away, slowly.

"Why didn't you tell them I'm not the other woman?"

Darren's hand paused. He reached for mine.

"Kitty cares about her image. If I'd said that, it would've been like slapping her in the face in front of everyone."

"Our marriage already hurt her enough. You've always been so understanding. Can't you just let her have this one? Please?"

"Don't worry. I already warned her. There won't be a next time."

Right. Every time Kitty was in a bad mood, she found some new way to nail me to the cross, to brand me the other woman all over again. And every single time, Darren fed me the exact same lines.

What a performance.

When I said nothing, he took my silence for surrender and softened his voice.

"It's fine. I'll have someone redo the shop for you. Maybe a fresh look, a new style."

I didn't answer. Let him say whatever he wanted.

I was leaving anyway.

Back at the villa, Abner Farley and Sophia Farley took one look at the state of me and froze.

They rushed over, demanding to know who'd done this, insisting they'd make it right.

I caught the flicker of panic in Darren's eyes, and I smiled.

"It was my own fault. I wasn't watching where I was going and tripped over a paint bucket."

"Dad, Mom, I'm going to go wash up."

Darren stared at me, something unreadable shifting behind his expression.

When I first came to live with the Farleys, I'd accidentally knocked over an antique vase. Darren had taken the blame for me.

Consider us even.

It took nearly an hour of scrubbing before every last trace of paint finally washed away.