We’d been married for six years, separated for three, when my husband, Ethan Hayes, and I were cast on a reality show about divorce. On the show, when they asked about the state of our marriage, I told the truth. “There’s not much left,” I said. “He can’t even stand the dog I adopted. Last week, he brought up divorce again. We barely speak.” I expected the entire internet to tell me to leave him. Instead, they started finding romance in the wreckage. [GIRL, you adopted TEN dogs that kept him up all night, but he didn't DARE get rid of them. He just quietly moved out. You don't think that's love??] [He only gets the courage to threaten divorce when he's drunk and lonely. Can't you see he's just begging you to come home?] [I can't watch this anymore. I'm starting to fall in love with someone else's husband.] [Just put them on a dating show already and get it over with.] I shot a skeptical glance at Ethan. He was leaning in close, attaching my microphone, his lips brushing against my cheek in a way that felt anything but accidental. 1 Ethan and I were famously incompatible. Ever since the reality show Last Chance Love premiered, rumors swirled each season that we'd be on it. This time, it was official. Before the first episode even aired, the internet was already sharpening its knives. [The other couple might make it, but Chloe and Mr. Hayes? 100% getting divorced.] This season, the show featured two couples. Besides us, there was former boy-band idol Ryan Vance and his wife, Maya. Before filming started, the director pulled me aside. Ryan, he explained, was using the show to stage a comeback. His plan was to play the devoted husband, a stark contrast to his bad-boy image, and rake in the views. That meant all the real drama, the real conflict, was expected to come from me and Ethan. The director was practically rubbing his hands together with glee. "Your relationship is a train wreck," he said, beaming. "You're going to be ratings gold." On the first day, both couples were brought into an interview room for a "marriage assessment." The host kicked things off with two bombshell questions. "Do you remember why you got married in the first place?" "And, how often have you been intimate this year?" Ryan jumped in without hesitation. "We were in love, of course. That's why anyone gets married." Maya blushed. "He has a… healthy appetite," she said softly. "It's usually every few days." The camera panned to us. I looked at Ethan, then answered truthfully. "I was pregnant. It was a shotgun wedding." "As for the frequency… zero. We haven't slept together in three years." 2 This season, the show was live-streamed, and a feed of the online comments was visible only to the female contestants. After my answer, the chat exploded. [Wait… what? Three YEARS? Did I hear that right??] [No sex in three years? Are they even married?] [What normal guy can go three years without touching his wife?] [Chloe, honey, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your husband is DEFINITELY cheating on you.] The director looked thrilled with the chaos. He signaled for the host to continue. I heard the host ask again, "For both couples, do you remember how many times you met before you got married?" The question hung in the air, baffling everyone. The live chat was just as confused. [Is the host drunk? Who the hell remembers that?] [If you can't ask a real question, get someone who can.] Maya started counting on her fingers, then gave up with an embarrassed laugh. "Sorry, it was too many times to count." I knew the question was aimed at us. Because before we signed the marriage license, Ethan and I had met exactly once. When I gave my answer, Ryan and Maya stared at me in disbelief. "Chloe, you have to be joking," Maya said. "You can't get married after meeting someone one time." Ryan took her hand, his expression disapproving. "That's incredibly reckless. It shows a complete lack of respect for the institution of marriage. Maya and I dated for five years before we even thought about getting engaged." The chat was a waterfall of question marks. [People are actually this crazy? My dog spends more time sniffing out a potential mate than that.] [Does anyone have the inside scoop on this? I need answers.] [^^ I heard some things. Chloe was a struggling actress who slept with Mr. Hayes for money. She got lucky and got pregnant on the first try. That's how she trapped him.] [So that's the story. One wanted money, the other wanted a pretty face. Disgusting.] [This isn't a marriage, it's a business transaction. Calling them a married couple is an insult to the word.] The internet had already dug up my past and was gleefully tearing it to shreds. I watched the comments scroll by, my face a blank mask. Because every word they said was true. 3 Meeting Ethan was a fluke. A complete accident. To pay off my mother's gambling debts, I’d started acting, taking any extra work I could find. After a few small parts, I finally landed an agent. Not long after, she told me she’d gotten me an audition for a major role. I followed her to a hotel, but instead of an audition, she led me into a lavish party. She paraded me around, introducing me to a string of producers. One of them, a bald, middle-aged man, kept stroking my wrist with his fat, greasy hand as he "cheersed" me. His lecherous gaze made my skin crawl. I saw other girls my age, standing around like merchandise on display. This wasn't an audition. I needed to get out. But a wave of dizziness hit me, and my body felt flushed and hot. My agent steadied me, a knowing look on her face. She pulled out a key card and told me she’d already booked a room upstairs. She and her assistant practically dragged me toward the elevator. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what was coming. But my limbs were weak, and I couldn't break free. I was desperately trying to figure out a way to escape when he appeared. Ethan Hayes. He must have just woken up, emerging from the executive suite to head downstairs. I’d seen him in business journals—the youngest son of the powerful Hayes family, a man who controlled a vast empire. He was my only hope. As he passed us, I reached out and grabbed the hem of his jacket. "Save me." He was smart. He took one look at my flushed face, the way the two of them were holding me, and immediately understood. He took me to his room to hide and was about to leave to find a doctor. But the drug was too strong. I’d been fighting it for so long, and I couldn't hold on anymore. I grabbed his hand, looking up at him. "Help me. Please?" His eyes were clear and sober. His rejection was blunt. "No." My mind was fracturing. I wrapped my arms around his waist, my body trembling. I bit his collarbone, my voice breaking as I cried. "Please? You're sure?" I don't know how long I begged, but eventually, his eyes darkened, his breathing grew ragged, and his hand finally landed on my waist. His voice was a low, rough rasp. "Are you sure about this?" He was handsome, clean-cut, nothing like the other men. In a daze, I nodded. "I'm sure." The words were barely out of my mouth before he lifted me with one arm, tossed me onto the bed, and tore off his shirt. He took my hand, guiding it over the hard planes of his chest, down his abs, to the heat of him. That night was a blur. I woke up the next morning, my throat raw, staring at a stranger. I dressed quickly. "Last night… thank you. Don't worry, I won't cause any trouble for you. I'll act like nothing happened." I was at the door when he called my name. He gave me his number. "Chloe, this is my contact info. If you need anything, you can call me." I saved the number, but I never planned to use it. The next three months were hell. The agency blacklisted me for refusing to "entertain clients." The roles I had lined up vanished. I discovered the predatory clauses in my contract, and they sued me for an impossible sum. To make matters worse, I was late. A pregnancy test confirmed my fears. I had taken the morning-after pill. But somehow, it had survived. I couldn't afford to keep it. The day of my appointment, staring at the number Ethan had given me, I decided to call. He was the father, after all. He deserved to know. When I told him, he was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "Chloe, will you keep it?" "If you say yes, I'll come get you. We can get married today." He added one more thing. "I can pay the breach of contract penalty. I'll get you out of it." The penalty was three million dollars. I could never pay that on my own. I paced outside the clinic all afternoon, watching the sun sink below the horizon. I felt a tiny flutter in my stomach, like the first stirrings of life. I rested a hand there and called him back. "I'm at 98 West Beacon Street in Boston. Are you coming to get me?" His voice was a low rumble on the other end of the line. "Chloe, come downstairs." "I've been here the whole time." 4 I never thought I'd get married in such a blur. But life after the wedding was better than I expected. Ethan was reliable. He handled everything, big and small. I never had to worry. There was just one thing that threw me. He was a planner. Everything had a schedule. Including our sex life. His proposed frequency was ten times a week. Ten. I had no idea where he found the energy. He worked insane hours but still had the stamina for that. If he was away on business and missed a few "sessions," he would make up for them with interest when he returned. In public, he was restrained, almost ascetic. In private, he was a different person entirely, his hot hands tracing my spine, his fingers wiping the tears from my eyes as he whispered filthy, wonderful things in my ear. But after what happened three years ago, we stopped touching each other completely. A chill in the interview room snapped me back to the present. The set was designed for the men and women to sit facing each other. Maya and I were directly under an air-conditioning vent. The fan was on high, and my legs, bare in my short dress, were freezing. But we were live; I couldn't exactly ask them to change it. The host was still firing questions. "What do both couples hope to achieve by coming on the show?" Ryan and Maya were in sync, saying they had some friction in their marriage and hoped the show would help them work through it. They looked at each other lovingly. "We're here to solve our problems. Divorce is not an option." The chat was already fawning over them. [Now THAT'S a real couple. They can't take their eyes off each other.] [The other two are so gross. This is so much better.] When it was my turn, I shrugged. "I've never been on a reality show before. I wanted to see what it was like." The camera cut to Ethan. He was frowning at me, not answering. [Is Mr. Hayes just straight-up ignoring the question?] [He obviously didn't want to be here. I bet Chloe threw a fit until he gave in.] [To give her the silent treatment on live TV... imagine what he's like at home.] [Isn't Chloe embarrassed? I would have walked off set.] Ethan finally spoke, but not to answer the question. He looked at the director. "Can you turn the heat up? Or get my wife a blanket? She's sitting right under the vent. I'm worried she'll get cold." [I was ready for him to start trashing her, and he says THAT?] [He noticed such a small detail. I don't know, maybe there's still something there.] [Maya's cold too, she's all huddled up. I thought Ryan was so in love with her, how come he didn't notice?] [Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Ethan is seven years older. There's no way there's real love in a May-December marriage like that.] [For real. He was probably just cold himself and didn't want to say it.] After the crew adjusted the temperature, Ethan finally remembered the host's question. The host seized the opportunity. "Mr. Hayes, you're such a busy man. How did you find time for an eighteen-day live broadcast? I heard from the director that Chloe tentatively agreed on the 25th but didn't give a final answer until the 30th. What happened during that week? Did you two have a fight?" This deliberate leak of information sent the live chat into a frenzy. [So they fought for a week before the show even started?] [Makes sense. Mr. Hayes is so private. He'd never want to do this. They must have had a huge blowout.] [Is it just me or is the host kind of a jerk for revealing that?] [Yeah, it's just you. She's a gold-digger on a TV show. What privacy does she deserve?] Ethan shot a brief, annoyed glance at the host. "I was on a business trip overseas that week. She told me about the show when I got back on the 30th." "We didn't argue. To be precise, we've never had a real fight in our entire marriage." "And the idea that I had to 'squeeze in time' for this is ridiculous." He smirked, a flash of contempt in his eyes. "Even if I'm busy, I'm not too busy to be with my wife. Half of my time belongs to her, by default." "My wife wanted to do this show, so I'm here with her. Is that a good enough reason for you?"
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