Page 88 of Cast to be Mine

“Dammit! Becky? Loretta? Mom? Dad? Leave me alone!”

They didn’t, which made me wonder if it was an actual emergency.

I groaned and reached for the phone, squinting at the screen through bleary eyes.

There were more than twenty text messages, but it was social media notifications blowing up my damn phone.

What the hell?

I scrolled through the chaos. Text messages from people I hadn’t talked to in months. Instagram notifications. Twitter mentions. Missed calls from numbers I didn’t recognize.

And then I saw Loretta’s name, all caps: CALL ME THE SECOND YOU WAKE UP.

My stomach dropped. Whatever was happening, it was big.

I opened Instagram first, my thumb moving on autopilot.

Chantilly’s face filled my screen immediately. Not really the first thing I wanted to see three seconds after I opened my eyes.

Her latest post had apparently broken the internet while I was sleeping, and since I kept getting tagged, it had to do with me.

“Great.”

I clicked on the video.

It started with the infamous parking lot photo. The one that had haunted me for weeks. There I was. Not me, but the other me. Chantilly locked in a passionate kiss with Jack. The image that had turned me into America’s most hated homewrecker.

Then the screen filled with screenshots of online reactions.

Comments calling me a slut. Tweets demanding I be fired. Headlines screaming about affairs and broken marriages. I felt my chest tighten, the familiar shame washing over me even though I knew none of it was true. I didn’t love the reputation.

And then Chantilly’s face appeared on the screen, her ring camera reflected in her pupils. Her makeup looked like she was ready to walk the red carpet.

And she was laughing. Her head thrown back, perfectly white teeth gleaming.

“It was me the whole time!” she announced, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

The video cut to security camera footage from what looked like a hotel parking garage. Grainy but clear enough. A woman in a blonde wig—obviously Chantilly now that I knew what to look for—walking toward a man who was obviously Jack. They embraced. They kissed. And then they walked off together, her wig slightly askew.

I sat up straighter, my heart pounding.

It was the big reveal. And no one thought to tell me?

Micah’s face filled the screen.

I nearly dropped my phone.

“Normally we try not to ruin the movie magic,” he said, that familiar half-smile playing at his lips. “But since this has gotten a little out of hand, here’s some behind-the-scenes footage you’re going to want to see.”

The video cut to set footage. There was Chantilly, sitting in the makeup chair while someone adjusted the blonde wig on her head. Micah’s voice continued over the images, calm and professional.

“For the kiss scene in Breathless, we used Chantilly as a stand-in. Jack Montana is a happily married man, and his wife was kind enough to step in so we could get the shot we needed without any awkwardness on set.”

More footage. Chantilly getting her makeup touched up. Chantilly walking to her mark. Chantilly and Jack canoodling in the corner while they waited for the shot to be set up.

Then Chantilly was back on screen, beaming.

“Thank you all so much for defending my honor,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart in mock sincerity. “I was so touched by everyone calling out what you thought was a dirty cheater. Your loyalty to the sanctity of marriage is truly inspiring.”