His Betrayal, My Fierce Comeback

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ynonymous with integrity, was now dragged through the mud, twisted into a cautionary tale. I lay in the st

is carefully planted leaks, had painted me as a manipulative, dishonest journalist who fabricated sources and attacke

," had posted a photo: her hand, small and delicate, intertwined with Britton's. On her ring finger, gleaming brightly, was my

every platform, blocked her number, purged her from my digital existence. I

e etched with worry. "Elliana, the di

t. "Good. Send them to him. Overnight

e, surprised. "

ous." My voice was fl

ry object, every piece of furniture, whispered of Britton. His taste, his preferences, his comfort. I realized with a sickening lurch that I had slowly, imperceptibly,

around each other, standing in front of the rundown foster home where we grew up. We were just kids then, cl

ournalist, to expose the truth. We were a team, a force against the unfairness of the world. I remembered h

one who had shattered the v

nce, the hope, the fierce devotion. It was all gone. I tore the picture in half, tearing through his sm

wanted to humiliate me publicly, to revel in my downfall. But she had forgotten one crucial detail. I was still Mrs. Cohen, at least for a little while longer. The pre-nuptial agr

roken, but I

head held high, a ghost in a black dress, my face carefully blank. The murmurs started, hushed

ering blue gown, was Baylee, my wedding ring prominently displayed on her hand. She looked

od before Ernestine. "Mrs. Cohen," I said, my voice sweet as poison. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"

't expect you to show your face." Her voice dripped with

erely fulfilling my social duties a

rren, to boot. You couldn't even give my son an heir." Her words were a calculated strike, aimed a

her voice falsely demure. "Mrs. Cohen is ri

ed when he used to shield me fiercely from his mother' s barbs, his hand a comf

nto Baylee's. "But what he 'deserves' and wh

fear flickering in them. "What? No! It can't be!" she cried, her voice rising in panic. She dropped the phone, c

voice echoing through the suddenly hushed ball

plicate me, to paint me as the villain. But

t happened?" he asked, h

!" Baylee shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me. "Elliana, p

contorted with rage, looked at me, then back at Baylee, his protectiveness overriding any hint of doubt.

her. Even after everything, he still chose her, chose to condemn me without a second thought. The coldness