I Saw The Comments Predicting My Divorce And Fired The Cause First Chapter 03

I Saw The Comments Predicting My Divorce And Fired The Cause First Chapter 03

My first day on the job.

My supervisor was Ms. Mercer, mid-forties, sharp, no-nonsense.

“Harper, I’ve looked through your portfolio. You’ve got a real eye for composition.”

“Thank you, Ms. Mercer.”

“New hires start on location shoots. Long hours, heavy gear, lots of running around. You okay with that?”

“Absolutely.”

She wasn’t kidding.

Location shoots meant hauling gear through sun and wind, chasing light across the city from sunrise to sundown.

After a few days, my skin had already toasted a shade darker, and the equipment straps had rubbed raw red lines into both shoulders.

But I loved it.

The second the viewfinder locked in, everything else fell away.

Nothing existed except light and shadow.

Just the frame, and whatever I was chasing inside it.

One afternoon, I’d just shut off the camera and collapsed under a tree when Miles texted.

[Hey babe, work dinner tonight. Don’t wait up for me to eat.]

[Don’t run yourself into the ground out there. I’ve got you, remember?]

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Then the comments lit up.

[The ML is literally learning how to lie for Willow omg.]

[“Work dinner” my ass. He’s at Willow’s apartment helping her move in. They’re literally decorating together like a married couple.]

[HE’S COOKING FOR HER?? They look so domestic I can’t handle it. They’re literally perfect together.]

Cooking.

He’d never cooked for me.

Back when we first started out, he had nothing. I didn’t mind. I did all the cooking because I couldn’t stand watching him skip meals.

Once the money came, he hired a housekeeper. He didn’t have to lift a finger.

But for her, for Willow, he’d rolled up his sleeves and cooked.

My eyes burned.

I locked my phone and didn’t reply.

It was almost midnight when Miles finally came home.

I was in bed, facing the wall, eyes shut.

He leaned over me, lips brushing toward my forehead.

That perfume again. Not mine.

I turned away before his lips could land.

“Babe?”

“I’m tired. Good night.”

The silence stretched until I could hear him breathing.

“…Okay. Good night.”

The next morning, I found a document on the nightstand that hadn’t been there before.

A notarized asset transfer agreement.

Already signed. His unmistakable scrawl at the bottom.

The comments erupted.

[WAIT. The ML actually signed everything over to the ex-wife?? His ENTIRE fortune??]

[Doesn’t matter lol. Marital property agreements can be challenged in divorce court. It’s not permanent.]

[He’s been spending all his time with Willow and he knows the ex-wife is suspicious. This is just damage control. He’s buying her off so she stays quiet.]

For half a second, I almost let it work.

I set the papers back on the nightstand, exactly where he’d left them.

Then I picked up my phone and texted my best friend, Piper Caldwell, who happened to be a ruthless divorce attorney.

[I need you to draft a divorce agreement. Standard division. Whatever I’m legally entitled to. Nothing more.]

A few days later, Ms. Mercer called me into her office.

“Harper, we’ve got a major booking coming in. And the client requested you by name.”

“Who?”

“Julian Thorne.”

My brain short-circuited. I was sure I’d misheard.

“Are you serious?”

Ms. Mercer slid the contract across the desk, grinning.

“Really. He went through your portfolio himself and picked you out.”

My hands shook as I opened it.

Julian.

I’d been obsessed with him since middle school.

In college, I’d worked double shifts at a diner just to afford nosebleed tickets to his tour. I ended up passing out from exhaustion in the middle of the campus library, and the campus paramedics had to be called.

Miles found out and lost it. First time he’d ever yelled at me.

“Are you out of your mind? You almost killed yourself over some celebrity. What the hell is wrong with you!”

Years later, after Miles made it big, he ended up doing business with Julian more than once.

Not once did he bring home so much as a backstage pass for me.

I stepped out of the office and my first instinct, before I could talk myself out of it, was to call Miles.

But then I remembered the way he’d screamed at me over those concert tickets, and my thumb stopped mid-dial.

I texted him anyway.

[Heading out on a work trip. For a few days.]

He took forever to reply.

[Okay. Don’t run yourself into the ground out there. You’ve got me, remember?]

I stared at those three words, you’ve got me, and something bitter curled in my stomach.

I’ve got him?

Not for long. Soon enough, he’d be hers.