3

Strings of loud chirps got me out of bed the next morning, and I forced my eyes to blink open. Pushing forward, I stretched slowly and grabbed my phone, still groggy-eyed and tired from dealing with Cole's drunken words the night before.

I tapped it open, and instantly leaned forward as notifications and messages from different apps scrolled across my eyes.

This could not be happening.

"Cole!" I screamed, rushing over to his study where he was hunched over several papers scattered across his mahogany desk. He raised his head to glare at me, an eyebrow raised.

"Liza, why are you shouting my name? Being married to me doesn't still give you that right," he chided, and resumed working on his papers.

"There's a problem. What do we do?" I ignored the jab and instead showed him the post on my I*******m feed, with over fifty thousand views.

A video dated early last night of Cole, my husband frantically kissing one of his numerous flings.

He stood up and grabbed the phone from my hand, repeatedly playing the thirty second video.

"How did this happen?" He asked me, running his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth.

I shrugged and began to read the comments underneath the post, putting my teeth to work on my fingers as I scrolled further down.

'Less than 48 hours after the wedding. A shame really.'

'I knew it was fake. Elizabeth can't keep a man like that.'

'His wife is such a plain Jane. I can't blame him.'

'Another billionaire marriage bites the dust.'

I closed the phone and sighed loudly. This was damaging for us both, and I held myself from screaming 'I told you so' at his face. We could have gone on the honeymoon like we originally planned, but instead he had to have one last tango. Unfortunately, someone decided to make a lasting memory of it and now my name was being dragged through the mud for being a bad wife with lower class and pres–

"Would you stop that? I can't focus with what you're doing," Cole said suddenly, interrupting my thoughts as he pointed at my feet tapping repeatedly on the floor.

"Sorry sir," I responded instantly, colour rushing to my cheeks as I realized my old habit. I looked at him, wondering if he would launch into another lecture about calling him by his first name but he stood in one spot staring at the floor.

Across me, his phone began to ring. One of the investors was calling.

"Of course they would call now," he muttered, ignoring it as he sat down and faced me.

"We need to manage this situation. I cannot lose that deal, no matter what."

If only you had listened to me, I thought as I watched him pick up his phone. For damage control, damage that could have been prevented if he kept his pants on and his lips to himself.

"Yes, I know. Why else would I be calling you? Get here now," he barked at the person on the other end and ended the call.

"So what next?" I asked, the discriminating video still playing silently on my phone. No matter how non-existent my feelings for him were, my body weakened the longer I thought about it.

No wife, especially a new one, needed to see her husband publicly cheating on her. But, unlike other wives, I could not complain. I signed an agreement that clearly stated our freedom to indulge in romantic external affairs.

To think I cleaned up after him last night. I squinted my eyes at the phone screen again and looked closer, the red-haired girl with a chest too unnatural for her frame looked familiar. One of the old ones then.

"My PR manager is on his way. Shit, this is why I need my freedom," Cole complained, pouring out whisky from the bottle beside him. Of course, that arrogance prevented him from seeing the obvious mistake.

"We could say the video is an old one. It is edited, or release a statement denying being there. Or maybe–"

"I pay someone to figure that out, Liza. I'm sure there are better ideas." He shut me down and shook his head, gulping the whole glass in one go.

I kept silent after that, and distracted myself with TikTok videos of BTS boys showcasing their newest release. Soon, a short woman with beady eyes and thin hair walked into the room.

"Good day Cole. Good day Elizabeth. How's the media taking it? I couldn't check in on my way here," she explained.

"Badly," I responded and showed her the string of comments hurling accusations and insults at us, mostly me.

Shall we get to business then?" She asked immediately, motioning for me to talk first. When I proposed my ideas, Cole's PR manager clasped her hands together and looked at me. "I agree with you. It's quite simple really. Go for your honeymoon."

"I can't do that. There's work to be done," Cole refused, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. "Suggest something else."

"Mr Winston, let me explain. You both travel out, preferably out of the country, to a romantic getaway. Take a few pictures, show the media that you're hopelessly in love. As you do that, I'll do some damage control, make the video appear faked or old. By the time you both come back, you'll be San Francisco's most loved couple again."

"I agree with her," I told Cole, leaning forward at the prospect, "The public thinks we were too hasty to get married, so they are still suspicious of a sham. If we go for a honeymoon, and take pictures for the gram, eventually they will cozy up to us. We play our cards right, and they love us more than before. Everyone is happy." I smiled softly, hopeful his business-minded brain would see the advantages.

"So where do we go?" He conceded, looking between me and the manager.

"I know a place."