Chapter 2Rewriting the Tragic Ex Wife Script

I retreated to our cramped bedroom, burying my face in the pillows to muffle my sobs.

I didn't know what was wrong with me lately. My emotions were entirely out of my control; the slightest breeze of conflict had me ready to break down.

It had always just been me and my mom. Seven years ago, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Despite every aggressive treatment money could buy, she faded fast. In her final days, terrified of leaving her naive, sheltered daughter alone in the world, she entrusted me to Jeremy.

Jeremy had been a foster kid my mother mentored and put through college. Brilliant, driven, and relentlessly hard-working, he had started his own tech firm right after graduation and was already making a name for himself. I had always known him, had always harbored a quiet, blooming crush on him. So, when he held my mother's frail hand and swore he would protect me for the rest of his life, I didn't object.

After she passed, we simply... fell together.

Jeremy was endlessly patient with me. He was gentle, indulgent, and absorbed every one of my flaws and tantrums without complaint. For years, I truly believed it was because he loved me.

But those floating words... they said he didn't. They said it was just a debt. A transaction to repay my mother's kindness.

The thought felt like physical pressure on my chest. There were a million ways to repay a mentor. He could have paid her back in stock, in charity, in taking care of her affairs. Why marry me if he didn't even like me?

It was sick.

But as I lay there, my tears drying into a stubborn resolve, a new thought took root. I might not be a genius, but if I knew Jeremy was destined to become a titan of industry again, I wasn't going to just hand him over to some manipulative "Female Main Character."

Fine, we could divorce. But not until he was back on his feet and could give me a settlement large enough to secure my future. Until then, this "FMC" could wait in line. I owed her nothing.

Fifteen minutes later, the bedroom door clicked open. Jeremy stood at the foot of the bed. The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, before he spoke. His voice was devastatingly calm.

"I have nothing left to my name right now. If we divorce, I can't give you the alimony you deserve. But if I ever make it back... I'll make it right." He paused, his jaw tightening. "You don't need to worry about the creditors. The debt is entirely mine. It won't touch you."

I sat up, glaring at him through swollen eyes. "I'm not divorcing you! Don't even think about it!"

Jeremy opened his mouth to argue, but the fight seemed to drain right out of him. "Whatever you want, Gemma. When you're ready to sign, let me know. I'll make it easy for you."

He turned and walked out.

He didn't say it, but I felt the weight of his disappointment. Just like the phantom text said, my asking for a divorce had broken something fundamental between us. But without the photo, what was I supposed to do?

I’d just have to cling to him. Dig my heels in. Being shameless was the one thing I was actually good at.

[The guy is totally heartbroken. He'll push for the divorce soon.]

[I don't know. He's got a toxic level of loyalty. Even if he doesn't love her, he won't force her out if she refuses to leave. Based on her reaction, this might drag out.]

[Relax. She’s a pampered princess who can't handle poverty. The second a better option flashes some cash, she’ll jump ship. It won't take long.]

I rolled my eyes at the empty air.

Pampered? Yes. A gold-digger? Absolutely not. If I only cared about money, I would have bolted the day the bank locked the doors to his office. If I hadn't been blinded by the sheer betrayal of that Photoshopped kiss, I never would have thrown the word "divorce" at him.

Stupid, judgmental ghost text.