Chapter 6: Wife Goes Viral

I moved out of the Whitaker house and rented a small apartment on my own. Then I contacted a lawyer and started preparing to sue for divorce.

The apartment was tiny but cozy, filled with sunlight and the smell of fresh paint. It was the first place that felt like mine in years.

That’s when Carter made the trending topics.

His name was everywhere—news sites, social media, even the local radio.

To be precise, he and a certain actress did.

The gossip columns were on fire, and everyone had an opinion.

As the young, handsome CEO of a famous conglomerate, Carter Whitaker was a national heartthrob online—everyone called him the internet’s husband.

There were fan accounts dedicated to his smile, his suits, even his morning coffee routine.

His rumored romance with an A-list actress—Lily Monroe—was the talk of the town.

They were the new "it" couple, according to every tabloid.

This time, paparazzi caught them vacationing together at a resort.

The photos were grainy, but there was no mistaking Carter’s profile or Lily’s signature sunglasses.

In the photos, Lily’s delicate V-shaped face was so clear you could count her eyelashes.

As for Carter, only a blurry profile was visible—tall and striking, but his face was never shown.

It was obvious the photographer knew better than to cross the Whitaker family.

No doubt the paparazzi didn’t dare post a full shot of Mr. Whitaker.

Even the tabloids had their limits.

People online figured out it was Carter because of his ultra-rare car—the only one in the city.

The license plate alone was enough to blow up Twitter.

Lily had recently become the face of Whitaker Holdings’ jewelry brand, with a major ad campaign that had just launched to great reviews.

Her face was everywhere—billboards, magazines, bus stops. The timing was suspicious, to say the least.

This rumor sent the jewelry brand trending too.

Hashtags exploded, sales soared, and the PR team popped champagne.

Sales soared—sold out online, and even brick-and-mortar stores were packed.

I saw lines out the door at the mall, women clutching glossy shopping bags, chattering about Lily’s latest look.

I had every reason to believe this whole scandal was a PR stunt by Whitaker Holdings and Lily Monroe.

It was too perfect, too well-timed. Someone was pulling the strings.

It worked—both sides benefited.

They were making millions, while my life was still in limbo.

But they’d forgotten one thing.

I was still legally Carter’s wife.

For the Whitaker family, marrying someone like me was already embarrassing enough—they’d never announced the marriage publicly.

I was their dirty little secret, hidden away in plain sight.

To the public, Carter Whitaker was a young, rich, single CEO—the dream husband of millions.

No one knew the truth. Until now.

But legally, Carter Whitaker was a married man.

There was no way around it. The paperwork didn’t lie.

Having a scandal with another woman was immoral.

The press would eat it up, and the stockholders would panic.

Carter—if you refuse to divorce, don’t blame me for playing hardball.

I was done playing nice.

Since I was already preparing to sue, this scandal gave me more leverage.

I was ready to fight fire with fire.

I created a new Instagram account.

The username was simple, impossible to miss.

The name was simple and clear: Carter Whitaker’s Legal Wife.

I wanted everyone to know exactly who I was.

My first post was a heartfelt essay. I described in detail the pain of marrying into a rich family, enduring a cheating husband and a vicious mother-in-law.

Every word was carefully chosen, full of emotion.

I made sure every sentence hit home, every paragraph painted a picture.

At the end, I tagged Whitaker Holdings’ official account and Lily Monroe’s account.

I wanted them to see it, to know I wasn’t afraid anymore.

Within two hours, my post was trending.

Notifications flooded my phone—likes, comments, shares. My story was out there.

When I checked, there were tens of thousands of comments and shares.

The numbers kept climbing, faster than I could keep up.

Most comments doubted me—few believed Carter was already married.

The internet is a tough crowd. I braced myself for the backlash.

"What’s going on—my husband’s married? He has another wife?"

The memes and reaction gifs came fast and furious.

"Clout-chasing much?"

"Ignorance is bliss—daring to mess with Whitaker Holdings? Wait for a court summons!"

The legal threats started almost immediately.

"If this isn’t Lily’s rival’s doing, I’ll eat my hat. Homewreckers accusing others—shameless!"

The insults got nastier as I scrolled—clearly Lily’s fans.

They were ruthless, defending their idol with every ounce of energy.

Soon, my phone rang.

It was Carter’s private number.

He never called unless it was an emergency. I knew I’d hit a nerve.

Amazing—after all this time of ignoring me, now he calls.

I let it ring, savoring the irony.

I’d called him over a hundred times—he never answered, or his assistant picked up. He never called me back.

He was always too busy, too important.

But just two hours after my post, he was on the line.

Funny how priorities change when the spotlight turns on you.

Once his interests were at stake, he dropped the act—classic CEO move.

He was all business now, no more hiding.

The phone kept ringing. I refused to pick up.

I wanted him to feel the frustration I’d felt for months.

Let him see what it’s like to be ignored.

I smiled to myself, letting it go to voicemail.

But I underestimated his persistence.

He was nothing if not relentless.

In just ten minutes, he called from over a dozen numbers—my phone never stopped ringing.

He even tried texting, but I deleted every message without reading.

Finally, my patience ran out and I answered.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the storm.

"Delete that post."

He barked the order, as overbearing as ever.

He didn’t even say hello. Classic Carter.

"If you’d agreed to a divorce, none of this would’ve happened," I shot back.

I kept my tone cool, matching his intensity.

"You can’t afford the losses if Whitaker Holdings’ stock drops."

He was already thinking about damage control, not about me.

"What a joke—why would I care about Whitaker Holdings’ stock? Even if it soars, I don’t get a penny. You think I care if it drops?"

I laughed, letting the bitterness show.

He was silent for a long time. But from his breathing, I could feel his anger.

I imagined him pacing his office, jaw clenched, fists tight.

Finally, he hung up without another word.

The silence was more satisfying than any insult.

My post caused a huge stir online.

Every news outlet picked it up. My inbox exploded.

Whitaker Holdings didn’t respond.

Their PR team must have been scrambling, but they stayed silent.

Lily Monroe posted a vague statement, denying she was a homewrecker.

She played the victim, claiming she’d never knowingly hurt another woman.

Her fans, emboldened, flooded my comments with abuse.

They called me every name in the book. I stopped reading after a while.

Seeing I didn’t respond, they were even more convinced I was a clout-chasing liar.

They were relentless, but I refused to back down.

I kept control of the narrative, and when their attacks peaked, I posted again—this time, just a photo of my marriage certificate.

I made sure every detail was visible—the date, the signatures, the official seal.

The internet exploded. Just like that.

It was like dropping a bomb. The comments went from insults to stunned silence in minutes.

Lily’s fans fell silent.

They deleted their tweets, pretended they’d never doubted me.

Soon, bystanders started mocking Lily. Turns out she really was the other woman.

The tide turned, and the internet did what it does best—pile on the loser.

Public opinion flipped, and Lily’s rivals joined in, stirring up more trouble.

Other actresses posted cryptic messages, hinting at Lily’s "true colors."

Lily, panicking, deleted her post, but couldn’t stop the flood of criticism. Her reputation tanked, and several brands dropped her.

She disappeared from social media for days. Her agency issued a bland statement, but it was too late.

Whitaker Holdings suffered even more—the stock plummeted, billions in value evaporated.

The business news ran headlines about the "scandal of the year." Investors panicked.