Part 3Caught on Camera: The Paparazzi’s Double-Husband Drama

After my little blackout at the precinct, Weston locked me up in a private hospital suite for two weeks to recover.

While he’s fast asleep, I sneak into the bathroom to play mobile games.

I get so into it that I start trash-talking out loud.

"See that? Showing off in front of my squad? You're all dead meat!"

"When the pro steps in, it's game over."

A clean Penta-kill. Absolutely legendary.

Just as I’m about to queue up for another match, my teammate hits me up on Discord voice chat.

"It's three in the morning. Why aren't you asleep?"

I sigh in frustration. "Don't even get me started. I'm basically under house arrest."

"Ugh, last month I ran into some psycho who screamed at me until I fainted."

"I told you before, I have amnesia. My brain can't handle extreme stress."

"My boyfriend keeps forcing me to do all these medical exams. It's so annoying."

My teammate inquires: "How did the tests go?"

I reply while browsing through the in-game store to buy a new skin. "All clear. The doctor said it was just a severe trauma response."

Speaking of trauma responses, I’m honestly speechless.

My mom always says my personality is so bright and sunny that if the sun ever exploded, you could hang me up in space and I’d warm the entire planet.

Yet, I literally fainted just from being pointed at and yelled at.

It actually makes me curious. What on earth happened during those three missing years of my life?

Weston said when he found me two years ago, I looked like a wandering ghost. It scared him to death.

Two years have passed, and I haven't recovered a single memory.

"Hey, why are you awake in the middle of the night anyway?" I ask, gifting my teammate a few expensive skins.

When I first woke up with amnesia, I was incredibly bored.

I met this teammate in an online lobby, and he’s been carrying me ever since.

He always seemed pretty broke, grinding late-night shifts, so I basically sponsored all his in-game cosmetics.

"Playing games with some random guy at three in the morning, huh?"

Weston’s voice suddenly rings out.

He's leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, wearing black shorts.

His stunning eyes are burning with pure jealousy. He looks like he wants to break my legs.

Feeling guilty, I stubbornly snap back, "That's what you get for locking me up! I have too much energy and nowhere to expend it!"

Weston scoffs. "Too much energy? Chloe, I think you're just begging for trouble."

He walks over, scoops me up by the waist, and hoists me onto the marble sink.

The cold surface makes me shriek, and I instantly wrap my legs around him.

Weston holds my thighs, pinning me against the wall.

"Cold, cold, cold!" I yell, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck.

Weston seals my lips, murmuring against them, "Don't worry. You'll warm up in a second."

The next day, I sleep until noon. I'm woken up by a barrage of phone notifications.

I'm trending on X again.

Wait, what is this hashtag?

#MissYouTrashPaparazzi#

What kind of twisted joke is this? How are these little devils mocking me now?

I click on it, only to find out that Ethan Vance's secret relationship has been leaked!

But the gossip is super vague, and the leaked photos are incredibly blurry.

His fans are frantically tagging me.

[What kind of ancient flip-phone took these blurry photos?!]

[Ugh, I actually miss our trash paparazzi.]

[Every photo she takes is so high-def it feels like she's hiding under my king's bed.]

[Trash paparazzi, come back! We promise to flame you less next time.]

[Trash paparazzi, go investigate! Is Ethan really dating someone?!]

I rub my hands together in excitement and immediately tweet out:

[Hold on tight, babies! Mommy's on it!]

The fans always complain that I only post fake clickbait!

This time, I'm definitely going to get them the real deal!

Ethan's relationship scoop has to come from me! Nationwide delivery!

When it comes to pampering my anti-fans, I am dead serious!