THE BILLION DOLLAR LIE

The champagne bubbles caught the light from a thousand fairy lights strung across the rooftop venue, creating an illusion of stars in the Seattle sky. I should have known then that illusions were all I had left. "Emma! Over here!" A photographer called out, and I automatically angled my face, chin down, eyes up. The pose that had earned me three million followers and a lifestyle I'd convinced myself was real. The Boss Babe Fitness App launch party was everything I'd dreamed of when Jason, Claire, and I had started planning it six months ago. Two hundred of Seattle's tech elite, fitness influencers, and potential investors packed the rooftop of the Apex Hotel. Servers in sleek black uniforms circulated with expensive hors d'oeuvres I couldn't eat. Too many carbs, bad for the brand. My emerald silk dress clung to my body in a way that photographed perfectly. Everything was perfect. Everything was always perfect in my world. That should have been my first warning. "Babe, you look amazing." Jason appeared at my elbow, his hand sliding around my waist in that possessive way that used to make me feel secure. Now it just felt tight. Like his grip had been tightening for months and I'd been too busy performing to notice. "Thanks." I smiled for the cameras, leaning into him. We were couple goals, according to the comments. Boss Babe and her man. The hashtags wrote themselves. "Have you seen Claire?" His voice had an edge I couldn't identify. "She was by the bar last time I checked." I scanned the crowd, spotting my best friend's blonde hair near the DJ booth. "Why?" "Just need to talk to her about something." He kissed my temple—for the cameras, always for the cameras—and disappeared into the crowd. Sophia Chen, my assistant and the only person who knew how close I was to losing everything, materialized beside me with a glass of water. Not champagne. Never champagne anymore, not when I couldn't afford the bloating in tomorrow's photos. "Smile bigger," she muttered under her breath. "That tech blogger from Seattle Scene just walked in. The one who's been posting blind items about influencer fraud." My stomach dropped, but my smile widened. "Which one?" "Three o'clock, gray suit, looks like he wants to eat someone's career for dinner." I didn't look. Looking would show weakness, and Boss Babe Emma Clarke didn't do weakness. Boss Babe Emma Clarke had built an empire on strength, determination, and the carefully curated image of a woman who had it all together. The irony wasn't lost on me that the empire was crumbling and I was the only one who knew it. My phone buzzed in my clutch. Another brand deal falling through, probably. That made three this week. The athleisure company that had been my biggest sponsor for two years had sent a polite email yesterday about "moving in a different direction." Translation: they'd found a younger influencer with more engagement and fewer signs of decline. I was twenty-four years old and already being replaced. "Emma!" Claire's voice cut through the music, bright and cheerful in a way that felt wrong. Too bright. "Can you come here for a second?" I exchanged a glance with Sophia, whose purple-streaked hair caught the light as she tilted her head in warning. Something in her expression made my pulse quicken, but I was already moving, my smile firmly in place, my heels clicking against the rooftop floor. The crowd parted as I walked. They always did. Emma Clarke, three million followers, face of Boss Babe Fitness, girlfriend of Jason Reed, best friend of Claire Morrison. The golden trio of Seattle's fitness tech scene. The trio I'd funded with two hundred thousand dollars of my own money while they contributed "expertise" and "technical skills." I should have noticed how many phones were suddenly pointed in my direction. I should have noticed the way Claire's smile didn't reach her eyes. I should have noticed Jason's hand trembling as he reached into his pocket. But I was too busy being Emma Clarke, influencer extraordinaire, to notice the truth. Claire stood in the center of a cleared space near the DJ booth, her blue cocktail dress shimmering under the lights. Jason was beside her, and the way they stood—shoulders aligned, bodies angled toward each other—should have told me everything. "What's going on?" I asked. Jason's hand emerged from his pocket. The box was small, velvet, and the exact shade of burgundy I'd helped him pick out three months ago when he said he needed help choosing a gift for his sister's birthday. His sister's birthday had been in June. It was September. The box opened, and the ring caught the light. Princess cut diamond, platinum band, delicate and elegant. I'd spent two hours at that jewelry store, pointing out exactly what his "sister" would love. The jeweler had looked at me strangely when Jason said it wasn't for me, but I'd laughed it off. Jason had three sisters. It made sense. Except Jason only had one sister, and she was married. My heart started racing. This was it. Jason was finally going to propose. The ring wasn't for his sister. It was for me. After three years together, after building a business together, he was finally going to make it official. Jason dropped to one knee. The crowd gasped. He wasn't facing me. The world tilted. The fairy lights blurred into streaks of white and gold. The music seemed to fade, replaced by a ringing in my ears that might have been my blood pressure spiking or my entire world shattering. Jason was on one knee in front of Claire. My Claire. My best friend since college. My business partner. The woman who'd held my hair back when I had food poisoning. The woman who'd helped me pick out the dress I was currently wearing. The woman who'd told me two days ago that I looked tired and should consider taking a break from social media. "Claire Morrison," Jason's voice was loud, clear, confident in a way it never was when he talked to me anymore. "You're my best friend, my partner, my everything. These past eight months with you have been the happiest of my life." Eight months. The number hit me like a physical blow. Eight months they'd been together. Eight months of lying. Eight months of living in our shared apartment downtown, the one we'd all moved into together to save money for the business. Eight months of Claire sleeping in the guest room, or so I'd thought. Eight months of Jason's late nights "working on code" and Claire's early mornings "meeting with potential investors." Eight months of me being the fool who believed them. "Will you marry me?" The phones were everywhere now, a dozen tiny lights recording, capturing, immortalizing this moment. My humiliation was going to be broadcast to millions within minutes. Claire's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide and sparkling with tears. Real tears. Happy tears. The kind of tears I'd imagined shedding when Jason finally proposed to me. "Yes!" Her voice broke. "Oh my God, yes!" The crowd erupted in applause. Jason stood, sliding the ring I'd helped him choose onto Claire's finger, and kissed her. Deep, passionate, the kind of kiss that left no doubt about their feelings. The kind of kiss he hadn't given me in so long I couldn't remember the last time. Someone touched my arm. Sophia, her face pale, her grip tight enough to hurt. "Emma," she whispered urgently. "We need to go. Now." But I couldn't move. My feet were rooted to the floor. I could only stand there, watching my boyfriend kiss my best friend while two hundred people celebrated and recorded and shared my humiliation with the world. Jason pulled back from Claire and finally looked at me. There was something in his eyes. Not guilt. Not quite triumph. Something worse. Relief. He was relieved. Relieved to finally be free of me. Relieved to stop pretending. "Emma," he said, and the crowd quieted, sensing drama, hungry for content. "Claire and I need to talk to you about the business. We've been discussing the future of Boss Babe Fitness App, and we think it's time for some changes. Major changes. We can meet tomorrow to go over everything." The phones turned toward me, waiting for my reaction. This was the money shot. This was the moment that would define me. The moment three million people were about to witness and judge and dissect and meme into oblivion. I felt my face arrange itself into the smile I'd perfected over three years of influencing. The smile that said everything was fine. "Congratulations," I heard myself say. "I'm so happy for you both." Then I turned and walked toward the elevator, my head high, my smile fixed, my entire world crumbling with every step.