Chapter 3

The next week was a blur. Eleanor, now my biggest fan, told everyone about my "tender devotion." The story got to Brenda, the gossip-loving nurse.

Brenda's on her phone again, Tori's voice noted. She's typing furiously. Probably updating her celebrity romance fan blog. Pathetic. And yet... I'm intrigued.

Brenda wasn't just updating a fan blog. She anonymously leaked the story to a major tech news site. The headline was explosive: "DEVOTED ROCKSTAR HUSBAND AND THE SLEEPING TECH QUEEN: A SILICON VALLEY LOVE STORY."

It went viral overnight.

My face was everywhere. A grainy photo of me sitting by Tori's bed, looking tired and worried. People ate it up. The internet created a whole narrative. I was the tortured artist, she was the brilliant damsel in distress. Our tragic romance was the talk of the town.

#ToriandEthan started trending.

"The company's stock is up 15%," Eleanor told me, ecstatic. "The board is thrilled. They see you as a stabilizing force."

My life became a performance. I developed a strange routine with Tori's inner voice.

I'm bored, she'd complain. Read me the news. Not the boring financial stuff, the tech gossip. Did Apple really leak their own phone design?

So I'd sit there and read TechCrunch articles out loud, looking like a loving husband keeping his wife informed.

I want a taco, she'd demand. A cheap one, from a truck. With extra hot sauce.

So I'd go out, buy two tacos, and sit by her bed. I'd eat one and describe every single bite to her in excruciating detail.

"The crunch of the shell," I'd murmur, for any listening nurses. "The spice of the salsa. Just like you love, honey."

Oh, that's the stuff, her voice would sigh in my head. You're a good husband, Contract Hubby. A very good husband.

We "watched" Netflix together. I'd prop my laptop on the bedside table and we'd argue about what to watch.

Not another documentary! I'm in a coma, I need mindless entertainment. Put on that new cheesy rom-com.

So I'd play the movie, and she'd provide a running, sarcastic commentary that only I could hear. It was the weirdest, most intimate relationship I'd ever had.

The public perception of Tori Blackwood was changing. She wasn't just an icy CEO anymore. She was the heroine of a great love story. And I was the hero.

Fans sent gifts to the hospital. Flowers, teddy bears, and an insane amount of fanfiction. Brenda, the nurse, would read the gushiest parts to me.

Tori's inner voice loved it.

Wait, in this one, I wake up and we ride off on a motorcycle to open a cupcake shop in Vermont? I'm not mad at it. That's some quality storytelling.

I was living a lie. A huge, public, and very profitable lie. And the worst part was, I was starting to enjoy the company of the woman whose voice was trapped in my head.