When an Ex-Husband Acts Dead

Jonas was silent for a beat.

"Has Ella completely lost her mind? She's not only lying about her grandmother dying, but she's dragged you into her little performance too? Tell her the drama is getting old. Enough. I'll be back when I'm back."

Before Caroline could utter another word, he ended the call.

Caroline was shaking with rage, her hand tightening on the phone as if she wanted to smash it against the wall. "That delusional son of a bitch!"

She handed the phone back to me. My thumb accidentally brushed the screen, refreshing Katherine's Instagram feed.

There she was, holding a painting in a gallery on Miami Beach, a blissful smile on her face. Not a trace of her supposed breakdown was visible.

The caption read: "Thank you to my muse and guardian angel. We are so happy!"

Staring at the post, I picked at my chapped lips as tears began to fall, hot and unstoppable.

The irony was a punch to the gut.

He refused to save my grandmother, but he was gallivanting across the country with his "muse" and her art.

My marriage to Jonas was, from the start, a transaction.

He was my grandmother's attending physician when she began showing early signs of Alzheimer's. The specialized care facility she needed was far beyond what I could afford, and I was desperate. Jonas offered to cover the costs on one condition: I had to play the part of his fiancée.

His family was pressuring him to marry, and he needed someone to appease them: an obedient, easy-to-control woman with a spotless past.

I agreed. And as we spent more time together, I made the foolish mistake of falling in love with him.

Since Caroline was marrying his younger brother, Charles, the idea of my best friend and me becoming family felt like a fairy tale. So I pursued him, and eventually, we became a real couple.

Seeing me cry, Caroline wrapped her arms around me.

"Ella, don't waste your tears on him. A bastard like that isn't worth a single one."

The thought of my grandmother being gone forever was a crushing weight.

My voice was choked with sobs. "Caroline, I don't have a family anymore. Grandma's gone."

Caroline patted my back, her voice soft but firm. "You still have me, Ella. I'll always be here for you."

I nodded into her shoulder.

Caroline Vanderbilt and I had been inseparable since college. We told each other everything; we were closer than sisters.

Suddenly, Caroline's phone buzzed.

It was Charles.

Caroline and Charles had a marriage of convenience, an alliance between their powerful families.

After the wedding, Charles became a tabloid fixture. Caroline had always refused to believe he'd betray her, until the night before, when the press splashed photos of him on vacation in St. Barts with a swimsuit model all over the internet.

The moment Caroline answered, Charles's irritated voice crackled through. "Caroline Vanderbilt, I just stepped off the plane, and you're already looking for a fight? I know you saw the news."

"I ran into that model at a restaurant by chance. We move in the same circles, so we said hello. It's not what the tabloids are making it out to be. Are you seriously going to nag me over something so trivial and threaten divorce? Can't you ever just let things go?"

Caroline let out a cold, hollow laugh, her eyes filling with bitter disappointment. "A coincidence that you ate together, shopped together, and just happened to stay in the same suite at the Four Seasons? Charles, don't take me for a fool!"

Caught in his lie, Charles showed no remorse. Instead, his impatience grew. "That's just the media spinning a story. I haven't done anything to wrong you. Believe whatever you want. If you want a divorce, fine by me."

Caroline was so furious she was speechless. "Charles… you—" Beep. Beep. Beep.

He had hung up on her.

She wiped angrily at her tears and threw her phone onto the sofa. "They really are brothers, cut from the same damn cloth. We have to divorce them. Get away from these arrogant bastards!"

I knew how deeply hurt she was. Despite the business arrangement, Caroline truly loved Charles. A woman born with a silver spoon in her mouth, who’d never had to lift a finger, had painstakingly taught herself to cook just for him.

When his birthday fell during an overseas business trip, she flew over ten hours just to be with him. She’d stay up late, keeping him company while he worked, just to spend a few more hours together.

But in Charles's eyes, Caroline was just a needy socialite who clung to him, and he found it suffocating.

Caroline and I held each other and cried in silence.

Grandma's funeral was a small, simple affair, with just me and Caroline in attendance. Looking at my grandmother's peaceful face in the casket, I made a silent vow. From now on, I would live for myself.

After the funeral, I sent a terse message to Jonas. "Tomorrow. 9:30 AM. The law firm. Be there to sign the papers."

It was a long time before he replied.

"Ella, how long are you going to keep this act up? You've been throwing a fit just because I left the wedding. We're already legally married. That party meant nothing."

"If you keep pushing this, aren't you afraid I'll actually agree? You'd lose the title of Mrs. Ashford for good."