Chapter 4: Breaking Up for Good

In my previous life, I didn’t find out until a drunken confession at what should’ve been our wedding rehearsal: Tyler’s mother abandoned him at Six Flags as a kid. Left him with twenty bucks and a note, vanished into the crowd. He bounced through foster homes in East LA until he met a bright, scrappy girl who shared her bed and her dollar-store strawberry candies. Rachel—the only warmth he’d ever known.

So on Rachel’s first day at Westfield Prep, Tyler recognized her instantly. He believed every word she said, hated me for things I’d never done. But as an illegitimate son with a trust fund full of strings, he needed our marriage to keep his place at the top. So he played nice, all fake smiles and calculated moves.

I raised my voice so everyone on the field could hear: "Let’s break up."

His pupils shrank, jaw clenched tight. "Why? Give me one good reason, Maddie."

I pulled a tissue from my pocket and wiped my cheek, slow and deliberate, like I was scrubbing away something foul. "I don’t want to date the son of a side piece—it’s gross. Is that clear enough for you?"