On the Divorce Reality Show

I was a semi-retired actress, joining a divorce reality show with my billionaire husband.

"I want a divorce."

Facing the camera, I spoke calmly.

Off-camera, Hector Sinclair frowned as he reviewed the scene with me.

"You need to show more emotion when you say it. That’s what will get people talking, stir up discussion, and drive the views.

"Otherwise, who’s going to believe you really want to divorce me? They’ll just think you’re acting again.

“Use your head. I can’t guide you every step of the way."

Yeah.

To outsiders, I was nothing more than a pretty face—vain, shallow, and talentless.

Meanwhile, he was a shrewd and cultured businessman, commanding a fortune worth billion.

No one believed I would willingly give up the title of Mrs. Sinclair, not even Hector himself.

However, he had no idea that this time, I meant it.

My agent’s call about the divorce reality show took me by surprise.

"Hector agreed to this?"

"Of course." She sounded almost amused by my question.

"Your last few live-stream sales didn’t perform well, and divorce scandals involving actresses are trending right now.

“Mr. Sinclair even cleared his schedule for ten days to join the show with you.

"Take advantage of this opportunity and capitalize on the buzz—at least show some appreciation for everything he’s done for you."

I stayed silent.

Appreciation.

What an interesting choice of word.

My relationship with Hector Sinclair felt more like a boss and employee, a mentor and student, or business partners—anything but husband and wife.

"Sign it."

She tossed the contract in front of me.

I didn’t move. My eyes stayed fixed on the thin stack of papers.

She glanced at me, lips curling into a half-smile. "Relax, it’s not like you’re getting a real divorce.”

"I’ll go over the show’s details first. I’ll sign once I’ve reviewed everything."

I slowly picked up the contract, gripping it in my hands.

She frowned, clearly displeased. "Mr. Sinclair already approved it."

As I stood up to leave, her voice drifted lazily from behind me.

"Why make this so complicated? You’re going to sign it anyway."

…

That night, Hector called.

When his deep, steady voice came through the line, it felt almost unfamiliar.

With his company launching a new project, we hadn’t seen each other in two months.

His phone was usually in the hands of his assistant, Anne Lane, and anyone trying to reach him had to go through her first.

She decided whether or not a call was worth his time.

So, I rarely bothered.

"Suzy."

Soft music played in the background on his end.

"I heard you threw a tantrum today?"

I paused. "Heard? From whom?"

His tone grew slightly impatient.

"I’ve been busy lately. I don’t have the time or energy to guide you, but you need to grow up. Work is work. Be professional. Stop acting like a child."

I let out a quiet "Oh."

"You mean the reality show? News sure travels fast. Looks like my agent ran straight to Anne. And just because I wanted to read the contract before signing means I was throwing a tantrum?"

The line went silent for two seconds before he finally spoke again, his voice laced with exhaustion.

"You didn’t even graduate college. What do you think you’ll understand from reading a contract?

"Everything has already been arranged for you. All you need to do is sign. Everyone’s tired. Why can’t you be considerate instead of making things harder for the team?

"Suzy, when will you finally grow up…?"

That tone again.

Over the years, every time I didn’t follow his expectations and showed even the slightest bit of independent thought, I was met with this same response.

A mild reprimand, tinged with disappointment and quiet frustration.