Divorced My Superstar Idol, Married A Billionaire

Audrey's POV The fans scream outside as our limousine stops at the red carpet. Tonight is Gerald's big night. My husband is up for Best Album at the Galaxy Music Awards. "Are you ready, babe?" Gerald asks. I nod, trying to calm my nerves. The car door opens, and Gerald steps out first, waving to his fans. The cheers get even louder, with people yelling his name and holding up phones with lights turned on. Then I step out, and the fans' mood changes. "It's the criminal's daughter!" "The drug dealer!" "You don't deserve him!" "Divorce her, Gerald! She's ruining your career!" My cheeks burn with shame. I keep my eyes looking forward, holding tight to Gerald's arm. Three years of marriage, and his fans still hate me. I thought people would forget. But some things never go away when you're in the spotlight. My parents died in prison when I was eight, leaving me with nothing but their bad name and a childhood bouncing between foster homes. A reporter on the red carpet welcomes us. "How are you feeling tonight? Gerald, you're nominated for Song of the Year for 'I Whisper Your Name in the Dark!" Gerald flashes his teeth. "I'm feeling amazing. When the song came to me, it was in the middle of the night... I'm just glad." "And Audrey, how does it feel to be married to a star?" the interviewer asks, her microphone now in my face. "Awesome! I'm very proud of him." Gerald pulls me closer, his arm tight around my waist. To anyone watching, it looks like love. But to me, it feels like a warning. Inside, I sit beside Gerald at our table. The room glitters with celebrities in designer clothes. A waiter offers champagne, but I say no. Gerald takes a glass, drinking it fast before taking another. When they announce Gerald as the winner of the Best Album category, I hold my breath. The room fills with clapping. Gerald kisses me before walking to the stage. I clap until my hands hurt. "Thank you, thank you," Gerald says into the microphone. "This album came from the deepest part of my heart. I want to thank my team, my label, and of course, my beautiful wife Audrey for supporting me through it all." After the after-party, we go home straight. I feel tired but want to celebrate Gerald's win in a special way. I put on his favorite perfume and the silky nightgown he bought me during the last Valentine's Day. "Let's go to the bedroom," I say, touching his arm, planting kisses on his neck. He smiles, loosening his tie. "I'll join you soon. Just need to make a few calls first." I nod and go to our room. I lay on the bed, waiting for my husband. But my eyes grow heavy. One hour passes. Then two. Then three. I fall asleep alone. When I wake up, the sun is already high in the sky. Gerald's side of the bed is empty. Not even wrinkled. He never came to bed. I find a note on the kitchen counter. "Had to leave early for a meeting at the summer house. Got some ideas for the next album. I will be back tomorrow." I stare at the note, my fingers trembling. Our third anniversary is today. He forgot our wedding anniversary. I decide to surprise him at the summer house. I spend the whole morning cooking his favorite meal: steak with pepper sauce, roasted potatoes, and chocolate cake for dessert. I pack everything in containers and get in my car. The summer house is a two-hour drive from our main house. As I get close to the house, I see several cars outside. The meeting must still be going. I decide not to interrupt, going in quietly through the back door with my food containers. Then I hear it. A beautiful melody coming from our bedroom upstairs. My heart stops. It's the song I worked on just yesterday at home. I created the melody when Gerald was not around. I haven't shown it to him. I haven't played it for him. How did he get it? I follow the sound. My legs feel like jelly with each step up the stairs. The bedroom door is a little open. Inside, I see Gerald on our bed with a woman. Her long dark hair spreads on my pillows, her face showing pleasure as my husband thrusts harder on top of her. I recognize her. Sophia Cruz. The music industry's favorite. Everyone's favorite female artist. I cover my mouth to stop from gasping. "That song," Sophia moans. "Play it again." Gerald reaches for his phone, and the melody fills the room again. "Like it? It's for my next album." "It's beautiful," Sophia whispers. "Just like you." My song. The song I composed. Gerald plays it while thrusting into another woman on the bed. And her moans fill the room. I stand frozen, unable to breathe or move. The food containers in my hands almost slip; I catch them before they hit the floor. All these years, I've been writing Gerald's hit songs. Every word, every song, every note that made him who he is today came from me. And this is how he repays me. The pain in my chest is so bad I have to cover my mouth to stop from crying out. My legs feel weak as I back away from the door, tears in my eyes. Three years of marriage. Three years of writing his hit songs. Three years of taking all the bad treatment from his fans because I loved him. And this is what I get. Watching my husband give away my song and his body to another woman. Back inside my car, my hands shaking so badly I can barely hold the wheel, I make it halfway down the driveway. When the tears keep flowing, I pull over.