He plays basketball. I post: [SHOCKER! Best Actor caught in a steamy tangle with multiple men!] He eats street food at midnight. I post: [EXPOSED! You won't believe what the Oscar-winner is doing on the streets at night!] Stalking him late at night, the Best Actor finally snaps, grabs my wrist, and roars, "How much longer are you going to keep this up?!" The billionaire prince of Manhattan punches him square in the jaw: "Get your hands off my wife!" The Best Actor whips out a marriage certificate and sneers, "Look closely. Whose wife do you think she really is?" I instantly get thrilled! Oh my god, having amnesia is amazing! I get to have two husbands! 1 [EXPOSED! You won't believe what the Oscar-winner is doing on the streets at night!] My latest post on X hits over a million views, likes, and retweets in less than an hour. The Best Actor's fandom wakes up in the middle of the night just to drag me in the comments. [Ugh! Another massive clickbait load of garbage!] [If she's so brave, why doesn't she catch something real for once?!] [Trash paparazzi trash! What is the actual truth?!] Their hate drives me straight to the global trending page. On the trending board, my name is intimately tucked right next to his. #TrashPaparazzi ChloeBrooks# At 2:00 AM, Ethan Vance was sitting at a sketchy late-night food truck, wearing a black hoodie and a low-brimmed baseball cap. He was casually perched on a plastic stool, holding a cheap street corn dog. I even attached eighteen high-res photos, each one making the Best Actor look drop-dead gorgeous. The fans can curse me all they want, but they never fail to praise my photography skills. For the past year, every single masterpiece photo of the Best Actor has come from my lens. [Strangely, this awful paparazzi always captures a completely different side of Ethan.] [I know, right? She somehow brings out that lonely, melancholic vibe of his.] [Honestly... it almost feels like my husband is posing for her.] [The comment above, are you insane?] I look at the comments with supreme satisfaction. These tsundere little angels always click on my sponsored links right after trashing me. After all, I've never actually ruined Ethan's reputation; if anything, I’ve gifted them endless wallpaper-worthy shots. My income is skyrocketing, making me shoot even more enthusiastically. Suddenly, someone knocks on my car window. I look up. Ethan Vance is standing outside, holding a half-eaten corn dog. Through the one-way tint, he can't see me, but I can see him perfectly. [SOS! Save me right now!] I shrink back into my seat, frantically texting my childhood friend, Weston Sterling. [Ethan found me!] 2 Sitting in the police precinct at midnight, I am completely numb. Weston actually punched Ethan! Ethan has a nasty bruise on his jaw. He sits on the bench, face cold as ice, lost in thought. Weston squeezes my hand, his voice low: "I messed up big time." Well, I can’t entirely blame him for being reckless. He had just gone to grab me some late-night takeout, and when he walked back, he saw a strange man pounding on my car window. He thought Ethan was some kind of creep and immediately threw a punch. "You're the billionaire prince of Manhattan, who are you afraid of?" I tease him to lighten the mood. Hearing this, Weston's face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance, and he reaches out to pinch my cheek. He hates that title more than anything. He thinks it sounds incredibly cringe and ridiculous. I swat his hand away, looking at the scrape on his knuckles. "Does your hand hurt?" Weston instantly stops fooling around. He lets out a prideful huff, turning his head away. Ethan’s manager rushes into the station. The moment he sees Ethan’s face, he blows a fuse. "You're that trash paparazzi, aren't you?!" "Ethan is supposed to be on set tomorrow! Can you even afford the breach of contract fees?!" He points his finger right at me, screaming, "Rats like you belong in the gutter, or locked up in a cell to learn some manners!" Spit flies from his mouth, nearly hitting my face as he curses. He gets more and more aggressive, poking his finger dangerously close to my nose. I’m not a coward. Normally, I would have broken his nose by now. But looking at his furious face, a sudden, suffocating weight crashes onto my chest. My head feels like it’s about to split open. Tears stream down my face uncontrollably. In a daze, I hear another voice echoing in my mind, screaming at me: "Are you trying to ruin him?!" "Fine! Go find him right now! Let the whole world know about your pathetic relationship!" "What makes you think you're good enough for him? What right do you have to question him?!" The sheer agony suffocates me. Everything goes black, and I faint. The last thing I hear is Weston’s roaring fury: "If anything happens to her, I will personally destroy every single one of you!" 3 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! 4 Caught them! With a pounding heart and trembling hands, I finally caught them on camera! The secret girlfriend of the Oscar-winner Ethan Vance is actually the famous prima ballerina, Scarlett Dupont! No wonder Scarlett took a minor, uncredited role in Ethan's new indie film—they're sleeping together! Looks like that rising pop-starlet from last week was just clout-chasing. The initial leak was from some amateur paparazzi who posted a horribly pixelated photo of Ethan wearing a baseball cap, holding a girl in his arms. The night it went viral, the pop starlet posted a cryptic note on Instagram, asking everyone to "respect her privacy." Puh-lease. Talk about a parasite. [It's been five days. Where is the trash paparazzi?] [Chloe! I know you're reading this! Don't hide behind your screen!] [Is posting a tweet against your religion, trash paparazzi?] Having gone dark for five days, my little anti-fans are spamming my notifications, begging for the real scoop. I stare at the footage in my camera, hesitating. Ethan looked completely wasted. He looked up, said something to Scarlett, and rubbed his eyes. In that split second, when he looked back up, his eyes were bloodshot. There was a heartbreaking fracture in his gaze, as if he were using every ounce of his strength just to hold back his tears. I read his lips. He seemed to be saying something about "breaking up." Hearing it, Scarlett's tears instantly spilled over. Oh, those poor little lovers. What kind of drama are they going through? If I leak this right now, wouldn't I just be fast-tracking their breakup? In the driver's seat, Weston pulls my ear and nips my earlobe. He says irritably, "Chloe, it's four in the morning. I skipped sleep to watch another man with you. What, are you actually feeling sorry for him now?" Weston is clearly sleep-deprived and cranky. He pushes me back against the car seat and kisses me fiercely. He bites my lip hard enough to sting. I pat his back, trying to soothe his temper. The guy has terrible morning wrath; dragging him out of bed at this hour was admittedly a bit cruel. Ever since we got together, Weston always finds ways to ravage me. Every time he kisses me, it's like his life depends on it, refusing to stop until I'm entirely breathless. My tongue feels numb, and my lips burn. I push against him, but he refuses to let go. I can only snatch brief gasps of oxygen from his mouth. "Look at you, completely helpless, my little piggy," Weston smirks, looking down at me. Before I know it, I'm curled up in his lap. He brushes his lips against my cheek, murmuring lazily, "Alright, you got the shot. Let's go home and catch up on sleep. And don't forget what you promised me before we left the house." I glare at him, letting out a soft huff. He totally took advantage of the situation. If I hadn't agreed to that specific demand, he would have refused to act as my chauffeur. I lower my head to tweet: [Stop crying, babies! I can guarantee that Ethan's girlfriend is absolutely NOT that starlet who claims to be allergic to alcohol but can actually chug a whole bottle of tequila. It's someone else! @GossipKing, stop feeding us rotten garbage leaks, or I'll personally smack you across the face. Babies, sorry for the wait. To make it up to you, like, retweet, and comment on this post—I'm picking ten people tonight to win a brand-new Louis Vuitton Neonoe bucket bag.] "Wow, Chloe. Making it big, huh?" Weston immediately pulls out his phone to like and retweet. I am completely speechless. Look at this shameless man! To my surprise, @GossipKing actually claps back instantly. @GossipKing: [@WildPiglet, lol, if you don't bring real receipts, you really think I'm running a circus here?] And then, he leaks a video! I click on it and examine it closely. The video seems to have been shot in late autumn. Ethan is sitting on a stone bench behind a manicured garden hedge, wearing a black jacket. A girl is sitting on his lap, her face obscured. His expression is cold and detached. The girl suddenly stands up to leave, looking furious. Ethan grabs her wrist, pulls her back onto his lap, cups her face, and kisses her passionately. The internet completely explodes! And I am frozen in shock! I zoom in on the video, and my mind goes entirely blank. The girl in the video has a distinct red mole on her neck. As Ethan kisses her, his hand repeatedly caresses that exact spot. What the hell?! It's in the exact same spot as the red mole on my neck. Every time Weston pins me down to have his way with me, he loves to bite that exact spot! Weston looks down at my phone, and his expression instantly changes. I sit up, feeling a cold shiver run down my spine. The car window is rolled down, and suddenly, Ethan Vance appears in my line of sight. He stares at my lips first, then glances down at my phone screen. The alcohol must have finally hit him. He brutally yanks the car door open. Before I can even react, he pulls me into a tight embrace, his voice cracking with a suffocating sob: "Wife, I'm sorry. It was my fault. Please, just come back to me." 5 The entire internet is trying to dig up the identity of Ethan Vance's secret lover! Hahaha, they don't know, but I do! I rub my hands in pure excitement, screaming internally. Ethan's girlfriend is definitely Scarlett Dupont! I really am the undisputed god of Hollywood gossip! Ethan just mistook me for someone else because he’s wasted! Pushing his way in and calling me his wife scared the living daylights out of me. But then I noticed Scarlett’s neck, and a bolt of lightning struck my brain. I yelled out, "Oh my god! So the Best Actor's mystery woman really is Scarlett Dupont! Weston, look! The red mole on her neck is identical to the girl in the video!" Wow, @GossipKing actually pulled out some real receipts this time. In that video, Ethan looks noticeably younger. Who knows where they dug up that old footage. Ethan seemed to sober up instantly. He stumbled back half a step, staring at me with a hollow, devastated look. Weston glares at him with a cold sneer. "Ethan, don't use alcohol as an excuse to play dumb and touch my wife. If you dare lay a single finger on my Chloe again, I won't hesitate to break your other hand." Scarlett rushes over, supporting Ethan's weight. Her eyes are red as she whispers sharply, "Weston Sterling is a monster, don't provoke him. Be rational." I hated hearing that. Furious, I snap, "Miss Dupont, we're all adults here. Watch your mouth! If you keep spouting nonsense, believe it or not, I'll leak everything about you two right this second!" Scarlett snaps, crying out hysterically, "Did I say something wrong?! Weston literally snapped Ethan's wrist, locked him in a room, and let him suffer in agony for three days! He missed the critical window for surgery, and now he can never play the piano again!" Uh... that statement completely shuts me up. She called Weston a monster... and honestly, doing something like that, Weston really was a... well, uh. What kind of deep blood feud drives someone to break another man's hand? Ethan originally debuted as a prodigy pianist. No wonder nobody has seen him touch a piano for the past two years. "Weston can be hot-headed, but he would never bully someone without a reason," I say, squeezing Weston's hand tightly. "He only loses his mind when it involves me. Miss Dupont, you look like you absolute hate him. So let me ask you: did Ethan do something so unforgivable that Weston couldn't let it slide?" Did I work as a paparazzi before my amnesia and capture some insane scandal that made Ethan assault me? And then Weston, out of pure rage, broke Ethan's hand? Before Scarlett can answer, my phone vibrates violently. I look down. Someone is blowing up my alt account on Discord with a voice call. This alt account is loaded with Ethan's top fansite admins. We usually trade tips on his schedule. "Trash paparazzi! Where the hell are you?!" "All hell just broke loose! Get on Twitter right now!" 6 I log onto X, and holy crap, it really is a massive explosion! @GossipKing: [Lol, Ethan Vance always acts so pure and noble, and his fans keep bragging about how much he loves them. Well, he sure loves them—he loves them so much he's been sleeping with his biggest fansite admin. Bet you guys didn't know that, did you?] This time, there are no pictures or videos. It’s just words. But Ethan's rival fandoms are absolutely ecstatic! They are digging like bloodhounds. The app crashes multiple times from the sheer volume of traffic. An engineer tweets from his personal account: [FUCK MY LIFE!!! Can you paparazzi pick an hour that isn't midnight to start a war?!] Within ten minutes, an anti-fan account compiles a massive thread. @IsEthanRuinedYet: [Receipts are right here! The girl in the video is wearing a blue hooded jacket. It's an exact match to the jacket worn by his biggest fansite admin, @WildPiglet, in an old airport arrival video!] The fans immediately launch a counter-attack. [That jacket was a massive trend that year! Literally everyone bought one!] [What does this prove? Piglet left the fandom two years ago! Are you guys so desperate that you have to drag a retired fan?!] [Lol, Ethan isn't going anywhere. Your faves can keep eating dirt!] @IsEthanRuinedYet strikes back with another post instantly! [The jacket might be generic, but look closely at the bracelet on the girl's wrist! Every single stone is a flawless, ultra-rare pink diamond. That is not some twenty-dollar fast-fashion junk! That exact bracelet was spotted on @WildPiglet's wrist before! Anyone who knows luxury jewelry knows that pink diamond bracelet is a global limited edition—only three exist in the entire world.] This time, Ethan's fans go dead silent. People are frantically DMing me. [Trash paparazzi! Where are you?! We're dying over here!] [Didn't you say you caught his real girlfriend? Is it really Piglet?] [We are in deep trouble this time.] @WildPiglet used to be Ethan's absolute biggest fansite admin. It's safe to say that without her, Ethan would have never gotten his initial breakout fame. But two years ago, her account went permanently dark, and she vanished from the public eye. My inbox is melting down. Fans are begging me for the truth. But as for what the truth is... even I'm not sure anymore. "Weston... the girl in GossipKing's video... it's me, isn't it?" I look up at Weston, completely bewildered. "You gave me that bracelet. Nobody else could possibly have it." My head throbs with an agonizing pain, feeling like it's about to explode. Weston reaches up to wipe my face, and only then do I realize I'm covered in tears. His eyes are bloodshot, his throat bobbing as if he wants to speak, but he just tightly grips my hand. After a long silence, he chokes out, "Chloe... don't cry. When you cry, my heart breaks." I turn my gaze back to Ethan. Ethan pulls a stack of small, red booklets from a drawer and spreads them out in front of me. Inside the booklets are photos. I'm sporting a high ponytail, laughing brightly, a deep dimple flashing on my cheek. And I am leaning intimately against Ethan. He's wearing a crisp white shirt, a gentle warmth crinkling the corners of his eyes. What is this? A marriage certificate... between me and Ethan? 7 SHOCKER! The ultimate gossip subject is actually me! Two clear marriage certificates prove beyond a doubt that I am Ethan Vance's secretly wedded wife. I lean in and whisper to Weston, "Wait, does this mean we've been having an affair?" Weston lets out a cold huff. "What? Thinking of dumping me now?" I suppress my bizarre excitement and whisper back, "Not at all. I just feel like our relationship suddenly got a whole lot more thrilling." I'm not blind! There are two massive, glaring "VOID" stamps inked across the certificates, meaning this marriage is legally over. How surreal. I was actually married to the top Oscar-winner. And what's even more surreal is that we got divorced. The anti-fans dig up everything. It's crystal clear now: I am indeed Ethan's former million-follower fansite admin—@WildPiglet. Ethan's new manager is blowing up his phone, and his PR team is desperately trying to suppress the trending hashtags. But right in front of my face, Ethan types out a tweet and posts it directly. @EthanVance: [There are many things I don't know how to explain right now. We married out of love, and we divorced out of love. During our three years together, I failed her deeply in many ways. I hope everyone can give me some time and space. I will handle my personal affairs privately, and then I will hold a press conference to give my fans the explanation they deserve.] I ponder for a moment, then log into my own account to post a tweet. @WildPiglet: [I literally just found out that I am Ethan Vance’s ex-wife. Before tonight, I had three years of total amnesia and knew absolutely nothing. My gossip, my leak! @GossipKing, you old clown, are you stupid? I am still the reigning sovereign of Hollywood tea! Go cry in a corner.] Ethan's fandom goes completely haywire. [The trash paparazzi is the actual ex-wife?!] [The ex-wife is Piglet?!] [Someone map out this timeline for me, my brain is melting!] [Honestly... if the wife is the trash paparazzi, I'm kind of okay with it? She's rich, gorgeous, and hilariously unhinged.] Off to the side, Scarlett breaks down into hysterical tears. "Ethan! Do you have any idea how much you sacrificed to get where you are today?! We could have easily let this blow over! Why did you have to announce it?! Chloe doesn't even remember you anyway! She's no threat to your career!" Having stalked Ethan for so long, I know exactly how brutal his journey to stardom was. In his early days as a background actor, he was humiliated by a toxic co-star who made him crawl between his legs just to get a line. Filming a historical drama in sub-zero weather, he plunged into a freezing lake repeatedly for a realistic shot, catching a terrifying fever that night. At industry dinners, to beg a director for a single audition, he drank until his stomach bled, yet he still grit his teeth and pushed through. "Scarlett is right," I say, feeling a pang of pity. "Ethan, you should go to your agency and figure out a proper damage control strategy with your publicist. If you need me to cooperate with a statement, I will." Setting everything else aside, I still respect Ethan's talent. Ethan gazes at me, his eyes slowly filling with tears. He whispers, "Chloe... you didn't actually lose your memory. You just don't love me anymore, do you?"
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