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“I know, right. So much for Tyler firing blanks, huh?”

“Oh, Leia.” He pushed his hair off his forehead. “You must’ve been crushed.”

“I felt dead inside, like someone stabbed a pair of scissors through my heart.” She flashed a false smile. “My mentor, my friend screwed my husband and gave birth to his kids! Kids I always wanted.”

With friends like that… Tarquin shook his head. “She sat at the wedding, watching you—with them!”

“Not just her—Erika too! They both knew those twins were Tyler’s, and neither one said a word. It felt like the biggest ‘Fuck you’ ever.”

“How’d you know Erika was involved?”

“A handwritten note from her was with the photos and certificates. She wrote it on February 3, 2018—one month after the twins were born—urging Tyler to do the right thing and pay child support or Brooke would get lawyers involved.”

“Do the right thing!” Tarquin sneered. “The right thing would’ve been telling his wife! What a fucking asshole! And I’m sorry, but this Erika person isn’t much better.”

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re no longer friends.” Leia’s expression soured. “So, I left the burnt-out car, waved thanks to the firefighters, and rushed upstairs, trying to keep it together till I was in my apartment. Once I’d slammed my door shut, the dam broke. I bawled for a good two hours before I could call Saz, but just hearing her voice, I lost it again. Saying the words out loud didn’t help either.” With a grimace, she squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, her slow blink accompanied by a weighty exhale. “I’ve never felt so alone in my life.”

I’ll never let her feel that way again. Tarquin’s heart ached as he brushed her hair away from her eyes.

“Saz offered to ring Dad, so I could have a shower and be ready for Tyler’s arrival. The minute he walked in, I stuffed the birth certificates in his hands and landed a right hook.”

Tarquin smirked. “You punched him?! Damn! Bastard got his.”

“He really did.” Leia bit her lip. “I broke his nose. Blood splattered everywhere.”

“Your parents should’ve named you Rocky!”

Leia half-laughed. “The one time kickboxing classes came in handy. I think I was just as surprised as Tyler. He sputtered and turned on the waterworks, said he’d only slept with Brooke once. Nice, eh? Tyler got Brooke pregnant with a single, meaningless fuck. So, turns out, I was betrayed by my husband and my body.”

I wish I could make all this hurt go away. Tarquin gathered her in, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I was too when the police showed up.”

Tarquin flinched. “What?! The fucker rang them?”

“No, our elderly neighbor did. She heard our shouting, called 911. You should’ve seen Ty—putting on the charm, smiling above the blood stains on his shirt. He told the cops he tripped over my throw rug and hit the wall. They fawned all over him, and of course, Tyler ate it up, signing autographs and sharing locker room stories. He was so smug. I wanted to claw the entitled smirk right off his face. As soon as the police were gone, I ran into the bathroom, grabbed his toothbrush and the smelly cologne he’d left the week before, and threw it at him. Told him to get the hell out of my life—for good this time. And then…I fell apart at the seams. Cried into my pillow for days. Didn’t shower, couldn’t eat. Meanwhile, the lovely Brooke took our story public.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

“If only. Hitting the gossip rags did exactly what Brooke had hoped: forced Ty to open his wallet a lot wider. On her blog, she also painted me as a social-climbing, talentless gold digger who used her fashion connections to grow my label. She publicly disparaged my designs, too—said I lied about their sustainability. The only saving grace was my business wasn’t called Frill-Seekers at the time. I could change the name and start fresh, and pray my reputation was salvageable.”

“Unbelievable!” His voice rose. “You’re the innocent party.”

Leia shrugged, her eyes weary as she tugged on the blanket. “You’d think, right? But then she told Manhattan’s top gossip columnist that I was a vindictive bitch who forced Tyler to withhold financial support for his twins.”

“Bollocks! You love kids. You loved hers!”

“I know! But she was connected. People believed her. In their eyes, I was this horrible wife keeping Tyler’s babies at arm’s length while I counted his pennies and used everyone around me for professional gain. To them, I got what I deserved. And what I got, besides a broken heart, a destroyed marriage, and a ruined reputation, was a complete invasion of my privacy. Gossip bloggers and paparazzi hounded me relentlessly. I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a dishy sex scandal swirling around a pro athlete, two fashion designers, and cute twins? We were total clickbait.”

“Sold to the highest bidder.”

Leia nodded. “My panic attacks came back. I couldn’t deal, so I had to throw the wolves off my scent. Shantelle helped me move from Garden City to Brooklyn and I dyed my hair blonde, hoping the press wouldn’t recognize me, but obviously from the photo your mom found, I was wrong.

“All the stress piled up. I lost weight, had daily migraines and bed-soaking night sweats. Every swallow felt like razorblades slicing my throat, and the fatigue was nothing like I’ve ever experienced. I could barely lift my head off the pillow. Dad freaked out and flew down from Canada, took me to a blur of doctor’s appointments and tests.”

Concern clouded Tarquin’s expression as he held her hand under the blanket. “What did they find?”

“Mononucleosis, the ‘kissing disease’—or as Saz called it, ‘Tyler’s bastard of a parting gift’. It’s a virus, so they prescribed bedrest and nothing else. You literally have to wait it out, which gave me lots of time to adopt a new hobby: beating myself up. I was a bad wife, I had worked too much, I had ignored the warning signs—I deserved this fate. And as my blame game spiraled out of control, a new tabloid claim would pop up, reinforcing all these negative thoughts in my head.”