I woke up to the buzz of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. Sunlight filtered through the curtains of our bedroom in the renovated Hudson estate, casting warm glows on the sheets tangled around Chase and me. His arm was draped over my waist, his breath steady against my neck. For a moment, everything felt perfect. The triplets were at school, our wedding just months ago still fresh in my mind, and my design business thriving. After all the pain, we had built this life together.
But the phone kept buzzing. I reached for it, squinting at the screen. Texts from friends, missed calls from my assistant. Then a link from Mrs. Juliet: “Have you seen this? Call me.”
I clicked it. A tabloid headline screamed: “Hudson Heir’s Wife: Gold-Digger Exposed? Inside the Shocking Truth About Amelia Clar
