Chapter 1

I find a hidden camera tucked behind the picture frame in my own bedroom, and I'm so freaked out.

I grab my phone to call 911—until my husband Preston stops me cold.

"Don't. I put it there."

"Tiff is shooting a documentary. 'A Day in the Life of a Housewife.' You're her star."

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd act fake if you knew."

Before I can even process it, his phone buzzes. Tiffany—his precious childhood sweetheart—already sent over the finished cut.

I watch it. My stomach drops.

She cherry-picked every ugly second.

Me in stained sweats. Me picking my nose. Me flossing chunks of food from my teeth like a trucker. And—God, no—me walking around the apartment topless.

My ears start ringing.

"Delete it. Now."

"Can't." Preston shrugs. "Tiff already posted it."

I fumble to open her page with shaking fingers. The video is pinned at the top. One hundred thousand likes. The comments are a bloodbath.

"OMG she's disgusting."

"This is who Preston Fraser married? Downgrade of the century."

"Trashy housewife energy."

Even my cousins are texting me. My old college roommate. Everyone.

Preston doesn't hold me. Doesn't even flinch. He just sighs like I'm the problem.

"I told you to clean yourself up around the house. You didn't listen. Now I look like an idiot too."

Then he actually smiles.

"Tiff edited it really well though. Great hook. Girl's got a future in content."

I stare at him. And just like that, something inside me dies.

---

My phone buzzes again. It's Mom.

"Serena, what IS this?? Why would you let anyone film that?? I'm mortified. TAKE IT DOWN."

I grip the phone until my knuckles go white.

"Preston. Tell Tiffany to delete that video. Right now."

"That's an invasion of privacy. I can press charges."

He glances up, annoyed. "You're gonna call the cops over this?"

"This ISN'T nothing!"

I have a breast condition. Sometimes I go topless at home just to breathe. But strangers online don't know that. They're calling me an exhibitionist. A slut. A crazy bitch.

I'm shaking so hard I can barely stand.

"Preston, you never got my consent. You can't just post my private life online!"

"Who says we didn't get consent?"

He walks calmly to the study and pulls out a signed release form. My signature. Right there. Authorizing Tiffany Monroe to film and publish my daily life for one full year.

I never signed this. I never—

Wait.

My birthday. He handed me a stack of "law firm paperwork." I trusted him. I didn't read it.

My own husband. A lawyer. Set me up.

"Why?" My voice cracks.

Preston sighs like I'm being dramatic. "Tiff wants to be a director. It's her dream. Can't you let her have this one thing?"

"Plus, we blurred the private bits. You're fine."

Then he actually chuckles.

"And honestly? People aren't wrong. You do look kind of gross when you let yourself go."

I stare at him.

Five years ago, when he proposed, he swore I was the most beautiful woman on earth.

Same face. Same voice.

And I don't recognize him at all.

"Preston. I'm saying this one more time."

I grit my teeth. "Delete. The video."

He frowns.

"Serena, stop being difficult. Tiff already sold ad slots on that video. Pulling it means a five-hundred-grand penalty. Her whole account could get shadowbanned."

"Then it's a divorce."

"Are you seriously threatening me?" He scoffs. "It's a damn video, Serena. What is your problem?"

"Tiff pulled all-nighters editing that. You wanna destroy her hard work? She picked YOU as the lead. You should be flattered, not throwing a tantrum."

He grabs his jacket and walks out before I can say another word.

The door clicks shut. Then his voice, soft as butter through the crack:

"Tiff, honey. I saw the video. It's amazing. You're so talented."

"Don't worry about her. Let her scream."

"Come out. I'm taking you somewhere nice to celebrate."

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