Chapter 2

2

I had grown used to Garrett abandoning me for Kylie again and again.

When I got home, I stared blankly at the pregnancy report sitting on the coffee table.

My TikTok account pinged with a direct message from Kylie's burner account.

I sighed. The girl really couldn't wait to rub it in.

I opened the message and saw a video Kylie had posted thirty minutes earlier.

The caption read: "True love is him going to war against the entire company just for me..."

In the video, Kylie claimed the company's vice president had harassed her and tried to exploit her during drinks.

He had threatened her career, saying she wouldn't walk in tonight's fashion show if she didn't comply.

Garrett arrived just in time, smashed a bottle over the VP's head, and fired him on the spot.

The video ended with Garrett wrapping an arm around a tipsy Kylie as they left the VIP lounge together.

The comments section was blowing up: "Stop calling him your boss, call him your husband! Marry that man!"

Kylie replied: "Hahaha, that's the plan! When it happens, I'll send wedding treats to all my online besties!"

The DM also included several photos of Kylie signing international runway contracts.

Attached was a voice note from Garrett: "Kylie, whatever gigs you want, I'll hand them to you."

Hearing his voice made a sharp pang shoot through my chest.

When I was the lead model at Garrett's agency, he told me he despised people who used relationships to get ahead.

So every runway spot and center stage I ever earned was fought for with my own blood, sweat, and tears.

Two months ago, Garrett got drunk and asked me to pick him up from a private club.

When I arrived at the room, Garrett wasn't there―only the newly hired VP, Braden Miller.

Braden greeted me warmly, saying Garrett would return shortly.

While I waited, Braden's sleazy gaze wandered shamelessly over my body.

He kept scooting closer under the guise of casual conversation.

Suddenly, he grabbed me tightly and shoved a hotel key card into my hand.

The stench of liquor hit my face as he whispered filthily into my ear.

"Garrett told me you're way wilder in bed than you are on the runway. I want a taste too."

He tried to grope me, and I panicked, fighting back with everything I had.

Braden grew furious and forced several glasses of liquor down my throat.

I choked and coughed violently, barely breaking free to scramble toward the door.

Just then, the door swung open, and I locked eyes with Garrett, who walked in surrounded by his entourage.

"Garrett!"

Taking advantage of Braden's hesitation, I ran to Garrett's side as if I had been saved.

Kylie, who was nestled in Garrett's arms, spoke up first. "Mr. Miller, what is going on here?"

Braden smoothly spun his lie, and everyone in the room believed him without question.

"Her? She wants back into the modeling scene, so she tried to seduce me!"

Cruel laughter erupted around us, and nobody cared to hear my explanation.

Garrett shoved me out of the room, his eyes full of pure disgust. "Get the fuck out."

Not long after I returned home in tears, Garrett arrived.

Reeking of alcohol, he dragged me straight into the bathroom without a word.

He turned on the shower, blasting freezing water over my head.

"Gwen, are you really that cheap? You want other men to take you that badly?"

Facing his furious accusations, I told him every single detail of what actually happened.

Yet Garrett showed no sympathy at all, yelling back at me instead.

"Shut up, Gwen! We all saw it with our own eyes! Stop making excuses!"

He grabbed my hair, dragged me in front of the mirror, and ripped my dress open.

My eyes were bloodshot, and the horrific burn scars across my thigh triggered an emotional breakdown.

"Look at your leg! Do you still dream of being a top supermodel?"

"You don't belong on a runway anymore. What man would ever be interested in you?"

He left me with those words, crushing any hope I had of ever walking for the company again.

The next morning, once sober, Garrett uncharacteristically gave me a sapphire necklace.

Looking at it, I recognized it immediately―it was the one Kylie had worn around her neck the night before.

I remembered Kylie complaining before leaving that the necklace was ugly.

So Garrett gave it to me, believing I only deserved secondhand scraps.

Back then, the truth of his feelings was already painfully obvious, yet I kept lying to myself.

Now, watching Kylie's video, I finally accepted that Garrett didn't love me at all.

Swallowing the bitterness in my heart, I made up my mind.

I texted my sister, who was an attorney: "Brooke, I want a divorce from Garrett."