The Ex-Wife's Deal with the Devil

"I was Liam Tate's wife..." My vision was filled with flashing lights from the camera shutters. Reporters from every TV station and magazine publisher were fighting to get their microphones closer to my mouth as I spoke the words I once dreamed of telling the entire world. However, this time, it was because he fucked me over and fooled me so now, I am exposing him, exposing us, our marriage that he tried so hard to hide. "...and I am divorcing him because he has been cheating behind my back all this time." The sounds of camera shutters went blindingly fast. Everyone was eager to take a photo of me, the secret wife of this generation's hottest actor, Liam Tate, and it was none other than his ordinary assistant, little miss Kerri Coleman, me. I didn't know seeing my husband fuck another woman was the push I needed to gain this courage and step out of that horrible marriage. I had just filed my divorce papers and the swarm of reporters and paparazzi were waiting outside the court, waiting to get a scoop out of this sensational news. I told them my story, how he forced me to keep this marriage a secret just so he could get his fame, how he made me overwork myself to the brink of sickness, only to find out that his persona of being a 'playboy' was true. Five years of marriage and Liam had slept with pretty much every fuckable actress there is. "Miss, aren't you his personal assistant? How could you not have known that?" a reporter asked, shoving the microphone she was holding towards my mouth without regard for whether it would hit my face or not, and it did, knocking my glasses off. I did not answer her. Instead, I crouched down to get my glasses only to realize that a tear had fallen on the floor. At first, it was only one drop, but as I continued to stare at my glasses that had a small crack in the lens, I noticed how blurry my vision became, and that I was already crying. I tried my best to suppress the unimaginable pain I was feeling, but it was impossible to do so with the crowd swarming in my direction. My tears and misery seemed to amuse the reporters and another wave of camera flashes blinded me. I could even hear some of them shout, "More tears! Come on! Cry some more! Do it for the camera!" I have been in the showbiz industry for a long time and knew that none of the people in front of me cared about what I was feeling. They only see me as headlines, not a human with feelings, not a wife who had just caught her husband cheating. Our divorce was shown on national TV, broadcast on the radio, and published in newspapers and gossip magazines, so, naturally, it didn't take long for the court to officially terminate our marriage because of the attention it was receiving. "In light of the evidence and arguments presented... the financial assets shall remain in the possession of Mr. Liam Tate," the judge declared. Years of my life... reduced to nothing in one sentence. All my hard-earned money, gone. That day, Liam walked out of the courtroom with his head held up high, waving at his cheering fans who waited outside. While I slipped out the back like a criminal, all because those crazy fangirls would throw things at me again. Hurtful words, or just rocks they picked at the side of the road. With nowhere to go, no money in my bank, no coins in my purse, I returned to my parents' house, hopeful that they would rejoice now that they had their only daughter back after finally realizing that her college sweetheart was not the one for her. But they only screamed at my face the moment I knocked on the familiar door of a place I once called home. "You humiliated us! Get out! You are not our daughter anymore!" Their words struck me like never before. How could they do this to their own blood? But then again, I was the one who disobeyed their warning. When they told me that marrying young is stupid, I still eloped with Liam and now look at where it brought me. "I'm really sorry, Kerri." My only friend, Alina, was tearful as she walked me out the door of her small apartment. I had been crashing at her couch for a few days, but unfortunately, Liam's fans had discovered I was staying here, so they began vandalizing Alina's home. "I swear, once this issue dies down, my door is always open for you." But several days later, my separation from Liam was still the talk of the town. Every media company was milking this issue to gain money. They painted me as the villainous ex-wife, but in reality, I was the victim, yet they sided with the man who has power. "Wait!" I knocked my hands against the bus that was already moving, so it stopped momentarily to let me climb inside. "Thank you," I nodded at the driver, pulling my hood down to hide my face. I dropped a few coins on the slot, coins I scooped out from the park's wishing fountain, and took my seat at the farthest, determined to keep my head down. Not because I did not want people to recognize me, but because everywhere I go, I see Liam's face. Billboards of him were scattered all over the city, his TV commercials were playing at every diner and restaurant. I hear his voice on almost all the radio shows. Pictures of his smile were everywhere, the same smile I thought was only for me, plastered across every part of the city as if he owned even the air I breathe. I hate the fact that our divorce skyrocketed his career. I bet he's thinking that he should have gotten rid of me sooner if he had known this would happen. "He's so hot," I heard a giggling voice behind me, while another one gasped in response. "But he's a playboy!" "So? That is one of his charms." Disappointed. I forgot that people will overlook one's crimes as long as they are hot and six foot tall. I hear them swoon and whisper about my ex-husband again and again, while I tug my coat tighter around me, wishing that this bus ride would come to an end soon. When I reached my destination, I hurriedly stepped off of the bus before those girls – those fans – recognized me. As I stepped out, my gaze momentarily lifted, and it landed straight onto another billboard. Bigger than anything. And Liam's face loomed over me, this time advertising a toothpaste. With a cheeky grin as if mocking the situation I was in after our divorce. He did tell me constantly during our entire marriage that I was nothing without him. You are right, Liam. I am nothing, and I have nothing... You took it all with you. I walked faster, rubbing my hands together to keep myself warm on this freezing winter's night, but just as I was about to turn to a corner, a forceful hand grabbed me by the hair and roughly pulled me into a narrow alley, slamming me against a dumpster so hard I fell down and was forced to look up at the three girls towering before me. I have been harassed previously by Liam's fans, but I have never encountered such unhinged downright violence as this, to the point that my body was trembling in fear. "It really is her." "Hey, you're Liam Tate's ex, right? It would be so embarrassing if we pulled the wrong girl, you know." "Damn, you look quite a miserable bitch." I opened my mouth to speak, but they shoved me again and my bag slipped from my shoulder, exposing its pathetic contents – a few coins, free coupons, and my broken glasses. They laughed, cruel and deafening. While my mind had already turned into autopilot. Instinctively curling my body to shield myself from whatever they throw at me. One pulled me by the hair, one kept slapping my face, while the other kicked me at my sides. They were relentless, and although I could stand up for myself and fight back, I didn't, because if I was injured enough, I could stay at a nearby clinic for the night. I get to sleep on a bed for free. But then – silence. Heavy footsteps followed, slow and deliberate. Then the air shifted, and numerous presences were felt. I couldn't open my eyes fully from the pain, and I still kept my head buried under my arms, but I could hear the girls' hurried footsteps rushing away from the scene like spooked rats. Oh, good. The police must have arrived. I am saved. "Chase them..." A deep voice cut through the alley, it was ice-cold. "...break all their limbs," What? A police officer won't order such a thing, and not in a way as though they were ordering a cup of coffee. I slowly lifted my head from the ground and caught sight of a tall man dressed in a long black coat that swept behind him as he walked. He stopped just in front of me, standing there, rather protectively, while he kept his eyes in the direction where the girls ran off too. I followed his gaze to the other end of the dark alley and saw other men, dressed in black, dragging the three girls who ganged up on me, and they were roughly grabbed by their arms. "N-no! Wait! We were just–" A scrunch of bones along with their ear-piercing screams tore across the place, yet suspiciously enough, not a single passerby arrived to see what the ruckus was about nor came to their rescue. I didn't even see what was done to them since the tall man crouched down in front of me, as if shielding my eyes from a brutal scene. His hand reached for my face and I flinched at his icy touch but later melted into a soothing warmth as his thumb gently wiped my tears and the streak of blood on my cheeks. It was an unexpected softness from a man who commanded his underlings to break the bones of teenage girls. His overwhelming presence alone kept me stunned at my spot, and I stared at him. His deep voice spilled from a perfect pair of lips, his emerald eyes below his dark brows stared back at me and his black curls framed his face. A face I did not recognize, but I knew, and I felt, that this person was not a police officer, not a savior, but someone far more dangerous. And as if sealing a fate, he spoke again in a velvety voice, his lips curled in a small smile. "Darling, you have been used by men who promised you heaven... how about making a deal with the devil instead?"