Page 124 of Insta Bride

“It gets better. The Flying Monkeys wrote the song. They are pulling all strings to get it played all day on every station, across all medium. Even Stormy Waters are trying to get the song to trend.”

“Why?”

“Because, tonight is the night when the couples decide whether their marriage is forever or over. Now, I don’t know who’s been posting fake photos online, but it is clear to me that someone is trying to amp up voting for Benjamin and Kenzie.”

“I thought they were a real couple. They look in love, to me.”

“They might be, but I don’t like people who play dirty, and I can’t sit back and let Elena Branson think her husband doesn’t love her—just because a few photos have been trending.”

“Don’t you think if there’s smoke, there could be fire?’

“Has any woman come out and shared time-stamped photos of her with Kye Branson since he got married?”

“What about her ex? He threw down the gauntlet and Kye didn’t reject the offer. It looked to me like Kye accepted money over marriage.”

“I don’t believe it. We’ve had Mason Winters on this show. His wife does amazing things with indigenous kids and literacy. I don’t believe Mason Winters would honor a contract that put money over marriage.”

“Are you saying you think Kye Branson loves his wife?”

“Only the man himself can answer.”

Thirty-seven requests for interviews.

Before I’d even arrived at work.

The only call I returned wasn’t for an interview, but from Scott Alexander. I’d never spoken to the Softli chief financial officer before, but I now had a meeting with the right people to pitch my claims. Irrespective of how tonight ended up. The only caveat was my silence and ongoing discretion.

I could face anything tomorrow, as long as I was still married.

Oh, and not just married, but married to the woman who could drive me to distraction—drive me to the edge of the cliff and make me jump. The only woman I was ever going to say three words to.

All she had to do was listen.

Yeah, right.

We needed to be in the same place at the same time.

I hated her living at Hunter’s. But at least he’d promised me that she hadn’t caught up with Maddox. Although, I doubted she had time for anything other than sleep and partying.

Night after night, I’d gotten texts and tagged in updates.

My wife had become the social butterfly.

Occasionally, I got the call early enough to track her down. Except, my beloved was behind VIP lines. Ibby Mercia and Ronan owned or had interest in the majority of clubs with social cred. Apparently, my wife didn’t need to join lines to get in, and was on first name basis with the owners, managers and head staff.

I knew this because I’d been watching from the cheap seats.

Yeah, I could talk my way to the front of the queue, but I didn’t have tables cleared for me. I didn’t have platters of food and drinks delivered to me without request.

Yeah, I could have had my pick of desperate women wanting their moment in the sun.

But I travelled in my own pack. Surrounded by gym buddies who protected me from unwanted photos.

Elena had no such problems.

My wife had become a social media darling.

Without trying.

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