Chapter 3

Next morning. Nine AM. I stand outside the courthouse.

Preston never shows.

I call him. He doesn't pick up.

Three hours later, a text finally comes through:

"I'm out shopping for new camera gear with Tiff. Busy."

"If you really want a divorce, sue me."

A second later, my phone pings again. My complaint against Tiffany's video? Denied. "Insufficient evidence."

The wind cuts my face. I take a deep breath and turn to leave.

I'm walking past a shopping mall when I see them. Preston. Tiffany. Together.

Tiffany spots me and comes bouncing over.

"Serena! What are YOU doing here?"

She waves a brand-new camera in my face, grinning.

"Cute, right? Bought it with the ad money from your documentary. Gonna use it for the next one."

"Oh, and guess what? You're still the star. I'm making the next one even juicier. The theme is 'Sweet on the Outside, Freak on the Inside'—"

SLAP.

My hand moves before my brain does.

Preston is in front of her in a heartbeat, pulling her into his arms like a bodyguard.

"Serena. Apologize. NOW."

Tiffany's lip quivers. She tugs his sleeve.

"It's okay, Pres. Don't yell at her for me."

He wipes her tears. His voice goes soft. Softer than he's ever been with me.

"Tiff. You're too kind for your own good. Come on. Let me take you home."

As they walk away, Tiffany turns back and mouths at me:

"Just wait. Big surprise tonight."

That night, she drops a new video.

The location? Mom's apartment.

The stars? Me. And Mom.

This time she didn't just make ME look bad. She spliced in footage of Mom fresh out of the shower, half-dressed, robe hanging loose. She painted my mother as some trashy, sloppy woman flashing the world.

The internet turns on her instantly.

"No wonder the daughter's a slut. Look at the mom."

"Trash raises trash."

"Two generations of skanks lol."

I stare at the screen. Every muscle in my body is shaking.

Preston.

That "peacekeeping" visit to Mom's place last week?

He was planting cameras.

Then—

THUD.

Something crashes in the bedroom.

I run in. Mom is on the floor. Lips blue. Whole body convulsing.

"MOM!"

I scoop her up. She grips my hand so hard her nails break skin. Her eyes are wild, bloodshot.

"The— the video— delete it— delete—"

I'm crying so hard I can't see as I load her into the ambulance.

While she's in the ER, I storm to Preston's place. I shove the door open.

I hear Tiffany laughing.

"Pres! I'm a GENIUS!"

She's cross-legged on the couch. A celebration cake sits on the coffee table.

"Two videos. Over a hundred million views. I'm literally the best director alive."

Preston is cutting her a slice like she's a five-year-old princess.

"Yes, yes. Princess Tiff is the best."

I lose it.

I charge across the room and smash the cake onto the floor.

"Tiffany! Delete every single one. RIGHT NOW."

"Why would I?"

She stands up, all sugar and venom. "Serena, the videos are AMAZING. The numbers are insane. It'd be such a waste."

"Besides, you and Mommy are famous now. We should ride the wave. A few more episodes and you can be full-time influencers. You're welcome."

My hand flies up on its own.

Preston catches my wrist mid-air. Grip like iron.

"Serena. ENOUGH." His voice is glacial. "Stop acting like a psycho bitch."

Psycho bitch.

This woman ruined my name. Put my mother in the ER. And I'm the psycho.

"Preston. Why did you plant cameras in my mother's home?"

I rip my wrist free and scream.

"Do you have ANY idea? Mom saw the video. She collapsed. She's in the ER RIGHT NOW."

Preston freezes. Then his face hardens.

"How is that Tiff's fault? Your mom already had a bad heart. Don't pin it on her."

I stare at him. I can't breathe.

"Preston. She's your mother too."

"We're not blood. Why the hell would she be my mother?"

He catches himself and adds, colder:

"I mean, a mother-in-law is never the same as your real mom. I can't be expected to care the same way."

I look at him.

Something splits open in my chest.

Five years of marriage.

He never accepted my family. Not once.

Back at the hospital, I open my laptop.

I post everything.

Full name. Full accusation. Tiffany Monroe, illegal surveillance. Preston Fraser, forged consent form. Repeated public humiliation of a private woman.

The post explodes overnight.

At three AM, Preston bursts into Mom's hospital room.

"Serena. TAKE IT DOWN."

He slams a bloody razor blade onto the tray table. His face is livid.

"Because of your post, Tiff just slit her wrists!"

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