Everyone looked down on me, but I opened an “Ex-Partner Stand-In Service.”
Our services included, but weren’t limited to, wailing at scumbags’ weddings, making a scene in their mistresses’ offices, and writing scathing reviews of overconfident men’s lives.
Then I got an outrageous job: play the missing woman a domineering CEO had always loved, and spend every day blowing his money, breaking his heart, and cursing his mother.
I rubbed my hands together. “This is my specialty!”
Later, he pinned me against the wall, eyes red. “Stop acting. You really are her.”
