What Was Mine Wasn't Mine

To "fix" Leonard Rinehart's oh-so-tragic depression, Naomi Gaffron—yeah, the same girl who once swore she'd only ever marry me—secretly tied the knot with him.

So I gave in. Played along with the family's little matchmaking stunt. Married Aurelia Spencer—Brieton City's golden girl who'd been obsessed with me since forever.

For seven years, she clung to me like I was oxygen. Every night, curled up like she'd break if I moved.

I thought that was happiness.

Then one night, I caught her whispering to her best friend:

"Leonard's already got international awards. When are you dumping Leone?"

"Whatever—I'm stuck with someone I don't love anyway. Doesn't matter who I married. Someone's gotta keep an eye on Leone so he doesn't screw up everything Leonard built."

I checked her study. Found a hidden folder—over 100,000 photos of Leonard. A hundred unsent love letters.

Even I couldn't fake it anymore.

Bought a silicone dummy. Laid out the plan. The fire would be step one.

Dead or alive—we're done.

After placing the final order for the setup, I shut the laptop.

Three more days. Then I disappear from Aurelia's world for good.

I turned—and ran straight into her smile.

She'd waited outside till the perfume wore off, only stepping in after the chill left her skin. Then, slowly, she wrapped her arms around me from behind.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?"

Her warmth should've been comforting. Instead, it burned.

Seven years married. Everyone thought she adored me.

In Brieton's high society, Aurelia Spencer was the poster wife—loyal, perfect, doting. I said jump, she leapt. Whatever I wanted, she handed over with a smile.

She swore it was love at first sight. Said she'd crushed on me for fourteen years.

On our wedding day, she cried through her vows. Told me marrying me felt like a dream.

She knew everything—my past, my scars. Used her family's pull to go head-to-head with Naomi, the ex who bailed on me. Messed with Leonard's career just to back me up, swearing she hated anyone who'd ever hurt me.

She played it so well, even I—supposedly the pro—couldn't see through it.

I remembered it like a punch to the gut—

Whenever things got intense, she'd whisper 'Leo.'

'Leo, Leo.' I used to think she meant me.

But now? Pretty sure it was Leonard all along.

I dropped my gaze, brushing away a tear with my fingertip.

She didn't notice. Just kept talking. "Your brother won that award. There's a party tomorrow, but stay home with me. I don't want you getting upset seeing him."

I didn't even flinch. Just counted. That made a hundred times she pulled this same move.

I used to think she was just clingy. I let it slide—I even backed out of the spotlight when my career was on fire.

Now I know. She was just clearing the runway for Leonard.

"I've got a meeting with Issac tomorrow," I said. "He wants me in his next film. I'm going."

She didn't miss a beat. "It's