Amelia’s pov

Monday morning, my phone started buzzing at six-seventeen, jerking me out of sleep.

One notification. Then five. Then twenty. Then so many that the screen becomes an endless scroll of alerts, each one hurtful than the other.

“Sterling CEO Divorces Mystery Wife”

The headline stares at me from three different news apps, and my stomach drops so fast I think I might actually be sick.

No. No, no, no.

I tap the first article with shaking hands, and there it is—my ...