My Ex Thinks I'm Still His ,But I Married a Billionaire

Right before lunch, Meg Dudley scrolled past a post tagged #ToMyEx.

"I know you're still thinking about me. Stop secretly watching my videos. We're happy together."

"I take her out to meet friends and never ask her to put on makeup first. I buy her favorite gifts just because she took an extra bite of something she liked. All the things I never did for you? I do them all for her."

"Maybe you weren't wrong back then. Maybe I really didn't love you."

A flash of irritation surged through her. She was about to leave a comment about how delusional some people were these days.

Then she saw the pinned letters in the comments section, and froze.

MD.

Meg Dudley.

Those were her initials.

Her stomach dropped.

She looked again, this time at the poster's profile picture. It was the silhouette portrait she'd taken of her ex-boyfriend eight years ago.

Her brow furrowed. Slowly, she typed out a reply.

"I've been married for five years. My kid is three. Funny—I had no idea I still had an ex I couldn't get over."

……

Before she could hit send, a friend request popped up on her phone.

She tapped it open and saw the same familiar image—a cartoon avatar made from one of the portraits she'd shot of Gerard Sanchez, back before she'd injured her wrist.

Her heart kicked twice, hard and fast.

She steadied herself and hit Accept.

The old habit of always being the first to message him still lingered somewhere inside her. But too much had happened. There was nothing left to say.

Still, out of courtesy, she sent a reminder.

"Please don't feed my photos to an AI generator, and don't use them as your profile picture. People will get the wrong idea."

The moment her message went through, two replies appeared in the chat window simultaneously.

"I knew you weren't over me. No one else would 'get the wrong idea'—only you."

"That video was meant for you. Stop stalking me across every platform. My girlfriend gets jealous."

Her chest clenched. The civil conversation she'd hoped for never materialized.

She thought about that vicious video and drew a long breath.

She'd barely started typing You're reading too much into this when his next messages arrived.

"All these years I've been with her, she's not as terrible as you make her out to be."

"Can you stop talking about her behind her back?"

"I know you're not over me, but no matter what you do, I'm never getting back together with you. She's the one I love!"

A vein pulsed at her temple.

Her hands shook with fury as she typed a single question mark.

"?"

"Who cares about your pathetic little love story? I'm MARRIED. Get back together? Are you out of your mind?"

The second that last message went through, her screen showed she'd been blocked.

She quickly switched to the social media app—and found their entire chat log posted in the newest comments, her profile picture blurred out.

Gerard had captioned it with a single line.

"I'll leave it at that."

Plenty of users rallied behind the so-called ex.

"Seriously? Don't use every dirty trick in the book on your ex. She watched a few of your videos—she didn't desecrate your family grave."

"Has the person above never seen a jealous girlfriend at work? The poster was obviously coached by his current girl. Otherwise, why would a grown man make a whole video calling out someone for watching a few clips? It's clearly just showing off the new relationship to twist the knife."

"Yikes. The ex got the raw end of this deal. Years after the breakup and still getting dragged out for public humiliation. Bet you anything HE'S the one who isn't over her, his girlfriend found out, and she made him post the video to prove his loyalty."

Amid all the biting commentary, Gerard's reply was almost eerily calm.

"Say whatever you want. It won't change anything. I know her."

Just a handful of words—but they landed like a fist against Meg's ribs, a dull, inexplicable ache blooming behind her sternum.

She couldn't remember the last time anyone had spoken about her with that kind of certainty.