Part 1The Heist After the Betrayal

I caught my husband and my best friend in the act. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just coolly dropped a single line:

"He's all yours now."

My friends praised my composure, my ability to let go. They said I was like a badass heroine from a power-fantasy novel, brought to life.

But my story didn't end like a power fantasy.

After a brief storm of public opinion, the two of them simply got married. The next year, my ex-best-friend gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. My ex-husband’s startup took off, making him fabulously successful. They became the picture-perfect family everyone envied.

And me? Shortly after the divorce, the emotional backlash hit me like a tidal wave. I was incinerated by the trauma of betrayal and the acid of humiliation. My faith that good is rewarded and evil is punished collapsed, and from then on, my career and love life withered. My life hit rock bottom.

In a daze of prolonged despair, I was hit by a car while crossing the street.

As I lay dying, my ex-best-friend came to see me. Her expression was a mixture of pity and wistful reflection.

"I always knew you saw yourself as the bigger person, the 'main character,'" she said. "That's why I arranged for you to walk in on us that day..."

I died drowning in regret and indignation.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the scene of the crime.

* * *

I was lying in the emergency room, my life fading away. A moment ago, the doctor had delivered the grim news: my injuries were too severe. There was nothing more they could do.

So this is it, I thought dimly. Then, the soft click-clack of high heels approached. Beth walked in.

She was dressed in expensive clothes, her skin glowing and full, looking even younger than she had eight years ago when I’d caught her in my bed.

She looked at me with a sorrowful, pitying gaze.

"Stella, I never thought you'd end up like this."

"Fate is a strange thing, isn't it? After all this time, I'm the one to see you off... Since we have a few minutes, let's call it a confession, just between us."

I didn't know why she was here. I tried to turn my head away, too tired to even look at her. But I couldn't move. I was dying.

Beth sat down by my bed and sighed dramatically. "I fell in love with Marc the moment I saw him," she began.

"But for years, all I could do was watch you two date, get married, watch your life get better and better than mine. A bracelet you bought on a whim was my entire month's salary. I couldn't understand it. We came from similar families, had similar educations, similar looks. Why? Just because you arrived at that coffee shop ten minutes before I did, Marc fell for you and not me?"

"So I decided to correct fate myself."

"I found a way to sleep with him, but when he woke up, he was filled with regret. He actually offered me money to keep it a secret from you. And even though he couldn't resist sleeping with me a second, then a third time, he was filled with remorse every single time."

She chuckled softly. "That just wouldn't do, would it?"

"I know you always prided yourself on your 'main character' energy. You always said that if your husband cheated, you wouldn't scream and cry like other women. You'd divorce him immediately and never look back. So, I begged Marc to be with me one last time, and I... deliberately made sure you'd walk in on us."

I stared at her, my mind reeling in disbelief.

After the divorce, I quickly discovered that the cool, collected demeanor of a 'heroine' was fleeting. The emotional backlash hit hard, and I was tormented day and night by the trauma of being betrayed by the two people closest to me, and the crushing social shame.

Later, watching them get married, have children, and build a successful business, their lives flourishing while mine crumbled, was a special kind of torture. Because I no longer trusted in love, I couldn't continue my work as a wedding designer, let alone start a new relationship. The contrast plunged me into a spiral of anxiety, self-loathing, and a shattered belief system. Every day was a fire in my gut, every night sleepless.

I thought I was just unlucky, that I was weak. I even despised myself for my inability to recover.

I never imagined it was all part of a calculated plot.

"So thank you, Stella! You didn't disappoint me. Your pride and composure gave us the dignity we needed. That's why Marc and I were able to bounce back so quickly."

"Of course, I should thank myself most of all. I did so much, after all. Imitating your tone and mannerisms for Marc, paying people to get you fired from job after job, and—"

She paused, a sly smile spreading across her face.

"Going to an international sperm bank ahead of time, picking a donor who looked like Marc, and getting pregnant with twins..."

My weak body had no strength left.

But her words made my eyes fly open.

After I had divorced him so cleanly, Marc had still refused to let go. He had knelt before me, crying that he only loved me, begging for another chance, swearing he would never see Beth again.

Until Beth told him she was pregnant with his child...

"Anyway, over the next few years, especially after our two beautiful babies were born, Marc became better and better to me. He really, truly fell in love with me!"

"Stella, I finally have your life. I changed my own destiny with my own two hands. My only regret was that no one knew. Thank heavens for giving me this chance to tell you everything before you die. Stella, for my honesty, I hope you won't hold it against me in the afterlife. Rest in peace."

She rose gracefully, her face beaming with triumphant satisfaction.

"Oh, right. You must be wondering how I ended up here?"

"My favorite patisserie closes at nine, and my driver was rushing so I wouldn't be disappointed. I hope you won't blame him either. It was an accident. He'll probably be quite traumatized by this. Of course, I'll provide you with legal and reasonable compensation. After all, whatever the amount, hah, it's probably less than the cost of one of my handbags."

"It's just..." She tilted her head, feigning a dilemma.

"You're all alone now. No family, no one. Who do I even pay the compensation to?"

She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips, and walked out, the click-clack of her heels echoing down the hall.

My soul screamed as my eyes closed for the last time.

...

When I woke up, I was standing at the top of a staircase.

Downstairs, I could hear the lively chatter of my friends.

From inside the bedroom...

Two naked bodies were tangled together, their passionate gasps and moans filling the air.

I stood frozen for two seconds, then raised my hand and slapped myself across the face.

It stung.

Good. The sting was real.

The next second, I gathered every ounce of strength in my body and shrieked:

"YOU SHAMELESS—"

"CHEATING SCUMBAGS!"