Breaking The Script: My Billionaire Husband

I was three million dollars in debt, forced by my agent to star in a reality show as the brainless gold-digger who married a decrepit billionaire.

But right before the live broadcast, as I touched the tacky neon dress I was supposed to wear, a violent vision struck my brain.

I realized my entire life was a script, and I was just a villainous side character designed to make America's Sweetheart look like a saint.

My agent was secretly taking payouts from her PR firm to deliberately ruin my reputation with endless hate traffic.

If I followed his orders today, I would be torn apart by the internet, lose every contract, and eventually die alone in a cheap motel.

I couldn't accept that my every fake smile and stupid decision had been manipulated to destroy me just to elevate someone else.

Why should I let them sell me out and turn my life into a complete joke?

Looking at the ugly pink dress, I threw it straight into the trash.

"You are fired, and my lawyers will be in touch about your offshore accounts."

I poured a glass of freezing water over my head to wash away the heavy makeup and the helpless persona I had worn for years.

I kicked out my backstabbing agent, put on a pair of plain black leggings, and walked out to face the live cameras.

To hell with the script. Today, I was going to expose this fake PR marriage myself.