3: 3

Right through the end of that big shared dinner,

I didn't say another word.

Stanley went to pay the bill, and Sophie slipped her arm carefully through mine.

"Shar, are you still mad? Nothing's going on between me and Stan, I swear. It's all that account manager and her nasty little scheme. She said you'd gone for the coffee and hadn't come back, so she just had me step in..."

I pulled my arm free.

"And do you know why I went to get the coffee?"

Sophie blinked, her gaze drifting off somewhere.

Tonight was supposed to be the perks livestream for hitting ten million followers.

It was also the eighth anniversary of the day Stanley and I made it official.

I'd had a dress custom-made for it in advance.

I'd rehearsed what I wanted to say to our followers more times than I could count.

Then, right before we went live, Stanley suddenly said,

"Go grab two coffees, would you? Soph looks a little low on energy today."

"I'll hold the fort once we're live. Go on, quick, or her cup won't be hot and she'll get in a mood."

I looked out at the cold, cutting winter rain,

and the words on my tongue, and what about me, stayed there, unsaid in the end.

Sophie rubbed her eyes, and they went red again.

Just in time for Stanley to see it as he came back from paying.

He looked utterly at a loss.

"Shar, stop yelling at Soph, would you. She's your sister."

"When exactly did you hear me yell at her?"

Stanley froze. He hadn't expected a word out of me, quiet as I always was.

"Shar didn't yell at me. I just got some grit in my eye."

Sophie rubbed at it again.

A second ago he hadn't believed me,

and just like that, he believed her.

"Yeah? Here, let me blow on it for you."

He cupped her face and blew gently at her eyes.

When he was done, something about it made him uneasy, though he couldn't say why.

"Let's just go. Let's head home."

The three of us went down to the garage. Sophie moved to take the passenger seat,

then went stiff all over, her eyes darting around before she mumbled,

"Shar, you sit up here."

But I'd already gone straight to the back.

I wasn't so blind

that I had to sit in that passenger seat, the one with its angle set just so for someone special.

The whole drive, Stanley kept looking for chances to watch me in the rearview mirror,

but I never once looked at him,

just answered messages on my phone.

By now, after hours of stewing, the aftermath of tonight's livestream had turned into a real spectacle.

A lot of the old followers had started digging up clips of me from the past few years,

holding them side by side with today.

"Ladies, case cracked: the one in pajamas at the start of the stream is the mistress, and the one after her is Riley!"

Even that would have been loud enough on its own.

But half an hour later, someone posted an anonymous tip.

"Everyone, you've got it all backwards. Sharon Manning, the one you're calling Riley, has been the mistress this whole time!!"

"I know Stanley and Sharon in real life. The two of them were never a real couple. Sharon wormed her way into her own sister's relationship. Oh, right, the sister is that pretty girl in pajamas who walked past the stream tonight~"

The person sounded completely certain.

"Don't believe me? Go watch the replay. When the sister comes out, Stanley's eyes are full of love, and the second Sharon's back, he stops smiling! So who he loves and who he doesn't is obvious!"

Then someone claiming to be a neighbor of mine and Stanley's chimed in.

"Sharon's been a dark, creepy type her whole life. Barely talks, always sullen, forever clinging to Stanley. She's just got a bit of a knack for the internet, so she strong-armed Stan into faking a couple to build the account. His actual girlfriend is the sister."

"She's a scheming little manipulator. Stan and the sister both got a raw deal, stuck with a woman like that."

Comment after comment loaded onto my screen.

My whole body was shaking. I could barely keep hold of my phone.

The company's call went through to Stanley's phone,

telling him he had to come up with a plan tonight, no exceptions.

Stanley kept his back to me. I don't know what he said to them.

After he hung up, he set up livestream equipment in the study on the spot.

Sophie went in first.

I started to follow, and Stanley blocked me.

"You'll only make it messier if you talk. Leave it to me and Soph."

He locked the study door from the inside and shut me out.

The numbers in the stream shot up fast,

and when the followers didn't see me, the fighting only got worse.

"Are they really a fake couple?"

"Sharon doesn't even dare show her face now. Ha. Scripted, no question."

The abuse got more and more out of hand, some of it even blurred out to asterisks by the platform's filters.

Sophie tipped her head down slightly, tears sliding from the corners of her eyes.

"I'm Sophie Butler. Sharon's sister."

"My sister's a really good person."

"Please stop cursing at my sister. It really isn't her fault."

Someone asked,

"So are you and Stanley a couple? Your sister came between you two?"

Sophie's crying cut off abruptly, her gaze skittering away.

"There's nothing like that..."

Stanley sat right beside her, watching the insults about me scroll past one by one, and said nothing.

Sophie bit her lip.

"My sister's just under so much stress. Her mom dragged my dad off a building with her, and all these years she's raised me on her own. So whatever she's done, I could never blame her."

"Stan knows that too."

Stanley glanced instinctively toward the study door,

and in the end still said it, to the millions watching,

"Soph's right."

4: 4

I was cold all over,

one hand pounding on the door, the other typing an explanation into the livestream.

What came back was only more vicious abuse.

“Holy crap, is that Sharon knocking outside? Would she actually kill someone? Everybody stay safe!”

“She's insane, run, run!”

“I knew something was off about Sharon. All these years too scared to go on camera. Back in grade school she pulled a knife on her own parents. Everyone in our neighborhood knows.”

Eyes stinging red, I stared at Stanley on the screen.

He knew. He knew exactly why I picked up that knife.

It was because that day my stepfather tried to hurt me, my mom, and Sophie.

And he said nothing.

My right hand pounded the door until it went numb,

and only then did Sophie end the stream and step out behind Stanley.

I lunged at her, but Stanley blocked me.

“What are you doing? Calm down!”

“Then what are the two of you doing?”

Stanley looked at my red eyes, his lashes trembling.

“This whole thing online is an opportunity. I'm doing this for you, Shar.”

I froze, my gaze going hollow.

And listened as he went on.

“We run a couple's account, but you won't get in front of the camera. The company already told me we've lost a lot of sponsorship deals. This works out perfectly. We push Soph out to play the couple with me, you move behind the scenes and help us. Isn't that better?”

My eyes forgot to blink, and the sting pushed the tears out.

“Did you not see how those people online are cursing at me?”

“Those people are just running their mouths. In a few days they'll forget. It doesn't affect us making money. We're getting married, having kids, and that takes a lot of money. Do you understand?”

Stanley reached out and rubbed my cheek.

Behind him, Sophie leaned her head out.

“Sis, I really just want to help you.”

Help me. What a fine thing to say, help me.

I laughed out loud, my face still wet with tears.

I shoved Stanley away hard, walked into the bedroom, and locked the door.

Sophie came and knocked.

“Sis, you're being so unreasonable. All the money these years, Stan earned it, and he bought this place too. What gives you the right to lock a door?”

In a raw voice I told her to get lost.

Then I heard her faint little scoff.

The next few days, I didn't dare look at my phone, didn't dare go online.

The moment I did, private messages came flooding in, cursing me.

My number had leaked, so out-of-town calls never stopped coming.

People shipped packages to the apartment. Dead chickens, dead ducks, razor blades with words scrawled in blood,

or those talking ghost dolls, calling me the mistress who broke up a family, telling me and my mom to die together.

Every day Stanley set food outside the door, knocked, said a few words to me, then left.

The apartment was empty.

I knew. He'd taken Sophie out somewhere.

There were videos from strangers online, hoping the two of them would get away from me, wishing them happiness.

Until the seventh day, when I saw it on the account Stanley and I shared:

a new post.

Stanley and Sophie holding hands in a photo together, him kissing the back of her hand, smiling at the camera.

The caption: “Thank you all for the support. You gave us the courage.”

The new followers were all cheering, voting on a couple name.

Stanley screenshotted it and messaged me.

“We gained a million followers, Shar. No point fighting money.”

I didn't reply.

I opened the door I'd locked, dragged out the suitcase I'd packed long ago, and went downstairs.

Down at the curb, a car door opened on its own,

and a contract was held out to me.

I followed the hand up and saw a man in a face mask.

The man smiled.

“I think it's about time everyone got to know the real you.”