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Seeing I was stable.
He said, "I’ll visit later."
But the next time he came.
It was during a media firestorm about his affair with Bella.
Photos of him and Bella on a date, kissing passionately.
Were everywhere. Crystal clear.
The public despises cheaters.
Him cheating, Bella knowingly being the other woman.
Everyone knew. Everyone condemned them.
His followers plummeted.
Major fan accounts announced they were done.
That’s when he came to me.
Even then, he denied it.
"Nothing happened with Bella. She’s like a sister to me."
I almost laughed out loud.
What brother kisses his sister?
He saw my reaction, annoyed. "Strangers don’t believe me. But you? You don’t trust me?"
I asked flatly, "So?"
"So you talk to the press. Tell them we were rehearsing, and that I told you beforehand. You knew."
A thought struck me.
I suggested, "How about we divorce? Then you and Bella dating is normal, not cheating."
He hesitated.
I "helpfully" reminded him: "Even if I tell the press you told me, some won’t buy it. Can you guarantee you’ll stay away from Bella? If not, the 'cheater' label sticks. Next time, even if it's innocent, if paparazzi snap you two, the rumors will fly. You’ll be fine – Hollywood loves men. But she’ll suffer. Branded a homewrecker."
I lay back on the hospital bed, calm.
"Your call. I’ll play along either way."
But I knew the choice he’d make.
He’d choose divorce. His career, his reputation mattered too much now.
I could finally accept it: Alexander didn’t love me anymore.
And he couldn’t bear Bella being hated.
I’d tried bringing up divorce before, knowing he’d refuse.
This was the only way he’d agree willingly.
We signed the divorce papers.
