Chapter 2

Months passed. The scandal faded, replaced by gushing articles about our renewed love. Caleb was more attentive than ever, his "Kingmaker" reputation now polished with the shine of a devoted husband.

Our life was a perfectly curated song, and everyone was singing along.

One rainy Tuesday, I was in his home office, searching for tax documents. The house was quiet, a rare moment of peace. I clicked through folders on his desktop: "Finances," "Contracts," "Tour Schedules."

Then I saw it. A folder named "Archives." It was password-protected.

Curiosity got the better of me. I tried the usual passwords. My birthday. Our anniversary. The name of our first dog. Nothing.

On a whim, I typed in the date of his first affair.

The folder opened.

My breath caught in my throat. It wasn't filled with documents. It was filled with video files, hundreds of them. The thumbnails were small, but I could see enough.

Caleb. And Molly.

My hand trembled as I clicked on the most recent one. The date was from last week.

The scene was a luxury condo I didn't recognize. Caleb was on the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Molly, wearing one of his shirts, sat on his lap.

"They really bought it, didn't they?" she purred, tracing the line of his jaw. "The whole 'devoted husband' act. You're a better actor than any of the stars you produce."

Caleb laughed. It was a cold, cruel sound I had never heard before.

"Gabrielle is easy. She wants to believe in fairy tales. As long as I play the prince, she'll never look behind the curtain."

He took a sip of his drink.

"Don't get any ideas, though," he said, his tone shifting, becoming hard. "You're fun, but she's the brand. She's the money. If it ever came down to it, I'd choose her. Always."

He pulled her into a rough kiss, and I slammed the laptop shut.

The sound echoed in the silent house.

My carefully constructed world, the one I had sacrificed so much for, had just been demolished. The love story that fueled my hit songs was a lie. A meticulously crafted, long-running lie.

I sat there for a long time, the rain beating against the window, the silence in the house screaming louder than any of my songs.