My Ex Left Me and Our Son for a Rich Man – 10 Years Later, She Invited Me to Her Wedding, So I Hired an Actress to Pretend to Be My Wife
“She wants us at her wedding.”
How will I look.
Liam looked up from his math sheet.
“Was that Mom?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“What does she want?”
“She wants us at her wedding.”
He didn’t ask if she missed him.
He stared at me.
“Why?”
“Because she wants to look good in front of people,” I said.
He looked back down at his worksheet.
“That’s dumb.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”
I thought hard work could fix anything.
He didn’t ask if she missed him.
He had stopped asking that years ago.
Monica and I got married right after college.
Back then, I thought love meant choosing each other and keeping that promise.
I thought hard work could fix anything.
I thought loyalty was obvious.
He was one month old when Monica packed two suitcases and left.
I came from nothing. Real nothing. The kind where your parents count cash on the kitchen table before deciding whether groceries or the electric bill matters more that week. The kind where new shoes mean somebody worked extra hours or went without.
After college, I worked every job I could get. Warehouse shifts, delivery runs, weekend landscaping, night inventory. I slept four hours some weeks.
Then Liam was born.
He was one month old when Monica packed two suitcases and left.
“How could a woman like me stay with someone like you?”
Liam asleep against my chest. Monica by the door in a coat too expensive for our hallway.
“Monica, please,” I said. “Whatever this is, we can work it out.”
She looked at me like I had tracked mud across her floor.
“You can’t fix being you.”
She gave a short laugh.
“You’re broke. Look at yourself in the mirror. How could a woman like me stay with someone like you?”
I should have told her no and blocked the number.
For the next ten years, I raised Liam by myself.
I should have ignored her wedding invitation.
I should have told her no and blocked the number.
Instead, I made the mistake of imagining that day. Monica greeting us in front of her fiancé’s family. Looking me over. Seeing my old truck. Seeing the suit I only wore to funerals and job interviews. Seeing Liam beside me and acting like she had always been a mother.
I could survive Monica making me feel small again.
I hired an actress to pretend to be my wife.
I couldn’t survive Liam watching it happen.
That night, after Liam went to bed, I sat alone on the couch and did something I never thought I would do in my life.
I hired an actress to pretend to be my wife.
Two days later, Susan came to my house.
“So,” she said, setting her bag down, “tell me about the ex-wife.”
“What is her full name?” she asked.
“I think I’ve heard that name before.”
“Monica.”
Her pen stopped.
She looked up.
“Monica? Is this her last name?”
“Yeah. Why?”
