The moment the cameras stopped rolling after the first episode, Grayson's facade crumbled. His eyes, which had glistened with perfectly timed tears on camera, now burned with something darker as he cornered me backstage.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice was low, dangerous, nothing like the wounded lover he'd portrayed on stage.

I straightened my spine despite the pain radiating through my abdomen. "Telling the truth."

"You're destroying me." He stepped closer, his cologne—expensive, subtle—washing over me. Once, that scent had meant safety. Now it just made me nauseous. "Victor Hale will bury you if you keep talking."

"Let him try." I met his gaze steadily. "I have nothing left to lose."

Something flickered across his face—fear, perhaps, or the realization that the girl who had once worshipped him no longer existed.

"You don't understand what these people are capable of," he hissed, gripping my wrist. His fingers dug into my skin, and I wondered if he could feel how thin I'd become, how close to the bone.

"I understand perfectly." I pulled my arm free. "After Victor assaulted me, he made sure I knew exactly what would happen to your studio if I spoke up."

Grayson's face paled. "What are you talking about?"

"He blackmailed me into those nude scenes in 'Midnight Crossing,'" I said quietly. "The ones you told everyone I was desperate to do for attention."

His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"I did them because Victor threatened to pull funding from your first film." My voice remained steady despite the memories clawing at my throat. "I did them because I believed you were worth saving."

---

"Welcome back to Exes Tell All!" The host's voice rang through the studio as we settled into our positions for the second episode. The audience applauded on cue, though I noticed several uncomfortable glances in my direction.

"Last time, we got some... surprising revelations," the host continued, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Grayson, how are you processing everything Lily shared?"

Grayson's expression shifted seamlessly into wounded confusion. "I'm trying to understand why she'd make up such serious accusations."

"They're not accusations," I said before I could stop myself. "They're facts."

"Well," Grayson said, his smile returning, "let's focus on the good memories. Remember our birthdays together?"

The audience perked up at this apparent detour from the heavy subject matter.

"I remember my twenty-fifth birthday," Grayson continued, his tone light but his eyes cold. "I was working three jobs to pay rent, and Lily here decided to surprise me with a birthday cake."

He turned to the audience with a conspiratorial smile. "A supermarket cake. The kind with pre-printed 'Happy Birthday' that you can get for $12.99."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

"I was so touched," he continued, his voice dripping with mockery. "I thought, wow, she really knows how to make a guy feel special."

The audience's laughter grew louder. I sat perfectly still, feeling each chuckle like a needle in my chest.

"Tell them why you bought that cake, Grayson," I said quietly.

His smile faltered slightly.

"You tell them," he challenged, gesturing grandly toward me.

I reached into my purse and pulled out a faded envelope. Inside were three receipts, yellowed with age but still legible.

"This one," I said, holding up the first receipt, "is from Nordstrom. $850 for a tailored suit—your first one."

Grayson's expression shifted uncertainly.

"This one is from Guitar Center. $1,200 for my vintage Gibson Les Paul. I sold it the day before your birthday."

The audience had fallen silent.

"And this," I said, holding up the third receipt, "is from UCLA Medical Center. $10,000 for egg donation procedures."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"I couldn't afford a better cake," I continued, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands, "because I'd just used my college grant money to buy you that suit. And sold my guitar. And donated my eggs to scrape together $10,000 for your very first indie film project."

Grayson's face had gone completely white.

"You never told me—" he began.

"You never asked," I cut him off. "You were too busy planning your big premiere to notice what I was sacrificing."

The host sat frozen, clearly unsure how to proceed with the script that had suddenly been torn apart.

"That cake cost $12.99," I said, looking directly into the camera. "But the price I paid for it was much higher."

"Welcome back to Exes Tell All!" The host's voice cut through the studio chatter as we settled into our positions for the third episode. The audience had grown since last time—more cameras, more crew members hovering at the edges of the set.

Grayson sat across from me, his posture relaxed and confident. He'd recovered quickly from last week's revelations, his publicist clearly working overtime to repair his image. The perfectly tailored suit he wore probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"So," the host began, her smile bright but cautious, "last time we learned about some... unexpected sacrifices in your relationship. Today, let's talk about your future plans—or what you thought they would be."

Grayson's eyes met mine briefly before he turned to the audience with that practiced charm. "We had a lot of dreams. Typical young couple stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" The host prompted.

"The usual. Career success." He shrugged. "Maybe a house someday."

"We were going to have a baby," I said quietly.

The studio fell silent.

Grayson's head snapped toward me, his expression shifting from confusion to something colder. "What?"

"You heard me." I kept my voice steady despite the pain radiating through my abdomen. "We were going to have a baby."

He laughed—a sharp, cruel sound that made the audience stir uncomfortably. "That's a new one."

"It's not new," I said. "It's just the truth you've never wanted to face."

Grayson rolled his eyes, turning to the audience with a conspiratorial smile. "See what I mean? This is exactly the kind of desperate lie I'm talking about."

The audience murmured uneasily.

"Lily," Grayson continued, his voice dripping with false sympathy, "there was never a baby. You're making this up because you want people to feel sorry for you."

I reached into my purse and pulled out a manila envelope. My hands trembled slightly as I extracted the medical records inside.

"These are from Cedars-Sinai," I said, holding up the papers. "Dated eight years ago."

The host leaned forward, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

"I was twelve weeks pregnant," I continued, my voice steady despite the memories clawing at my throat. "And I lost the baby."

Grayson's face had gone pale.

"The doctor's notes indicate the miscarriage was caused by severe physical exhaustion and stress." I looked directly at him. "Want to know why I was so exhausted?"

He didn't respond.

"I was working three night shifts," I said, pulling out another document. "At a diner in West Hollywood. Seven PM to seven AM, five nights a week."

The audience gasped.

"I needed the money," I continued, "because someone had to pay for your kidney treatments."

Grayson's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Here's my bank statement from that month." I handed the paper to the host, who took it with visibly shaking hands. "Three separate withdrawals of $2,000 each. All deposited into your account."

The host scanned the document, her professional composure slipping. "These withdrawals coincide exactly with your night shift schedule."

"They do," I agreed. "Because I was killing myself to save you."

Grayson finally found his voice. "My kidney condition—"

"Was completely fabricated," I cut him off. "There was never anything wrong with your kidneys."

The studio erupted in shocked murmurs.

"Lily," Grayson hissed, leaning forward. "Stop this right now."

"Why?" I challenged. "Afraid everyone will see what you really are?"

The cameras continued rolling as Grayson's carefully constructed facade began to crumble before the entire nation.

The studio lights blazed overhead as we settled into our positions for the fourth episode of Exes Tell All. The audience was larger than before, their excitement palpable in the air. I could feel Sophie's nervous energy beside me as she squeezed my hand one last time before taking her seat in the back row.

Grayson sat across from me, his posture relaxed and confident. His publicist had clearly worked overtime after last week's revelations about the miscarriage and fabricated kidney disease. He looked perfectly composed in his designer suit, not a hair out of place.

"Welcome back to Exes Tell All!" The host's voice cut through the studio chatter. "Today, we're diving deeper into Grayson and Lily's relationship. Last time, we learned about some... unexpected aspects of their past."

Grayson's smile tightened almost imperceptibly at the edge in her voice.

"Lily," the host continued, turning to me with a practiced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "you've made some serious allegations about your relationship with Grayson. What do you say to those who might think you're just bitter about your breakup?"

Before I could respond, Grayson leaned forward, his expression suddenly earnest. "I think we need to address something important here." His voice carried that perfect blend of sincerity and wounded dignity that had charmed audiences for years.

"The truth is," he continued, his eyes briefly meeting mine before sweeping across the audience, "Lily and I had very different values when it came to relationships."

I felt a chill run down my spine as I realized where this was heading.

"I mean, let's be honest," Grayson said, his tone shifting slightly. "Some people are just more... open with their bodies than others."

The audience stirred uncomfortably.

"Grayson," I said quietly, "what are you trying to say?"

He shrugged, a gesture so casual it was almost cruel. "Just that I found it strange when certain... intimate photos of you started circulating among my friends."

The studio fell silent.

"You shared my photos?" My voice remained steady despite the rage building inside me.

"It was just a harmless joke," he said with a dismissive wave. "The guys from my frat and I were just messing around."

"Those photos were private," I said, feeling the weight of hundreds of eyes on me.

Grayson's smile turned cold. "Private? Please. You were always so desperate for attention."

Something snapped inside me. The pain of his betrayal—not just years ago but right here, right now—crystallized into pure fury.

I stood up slowly, ignoring the sharp pain in my abdomen. The cancer eating away at my insides seemed to pause as adrenaline surged through my body.

"Desperate for attention?" I repeated, stepping toward him.

The audience gasped as I raised my hand and slapped Grayson hard across his perfectly made-up face.

The sound cracked through the studio like a gunshot. His head snapped sideways, red marks blooming on his cheek where my palm had connected.

For one perfect moment, there was absolute silence.

Then chaos erupted. Cameras swiveled to capture every angle of Grayson's stunned expression. The host jumped to her feet, her mouth opening and closing without sound. Sophie was half-way out of her seat in the back row, her face a mixture of shock and vindication.

"Cut! Cut!" someone shouted from the control room.

But I wasn't finished.

"That's for every lie you've ever told about me," I said, my voice carrying across the now-silent studio.

Grayson's hand went to his reddening cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief. For perhaps the first time in his career, he was speechless.

"And that," I continued, pointing at him, "is for what you did to me at Seattle University's Homecoming."

His expression shifted from shock to confusion.

"You don't remember?" I asked, a bitter smile forming on my lips. "Let me remind you."

I reached into my purse and pulled out a small medical card—my allergy alert card from college.

"Peanuts," I said, holding it up for the cameras to see. "I'm severely allergic to peanuts."

The audience leaned forward collectively.

"The night before the Homecoming Queen pageant," I continued, my voice steady despite the memories clawing at my throat, "you snuck into the kitchen and laced my dinner with peanut oil."

Grayson's face drained of color.

"You knew I wouldn't taste it in the sauce," I said. "You knew exactly what would happen."

The host finally found her voice. "Are you saying Grayson deliberately tried to harm you?"

"Not harm me," I corrected her. "Make me too sick to compete in the pageant the next day."

"Why would he do that?" she asked, genuinely bewildered.

I turned to face Grayson directly, watching as his carefully constructed facade began to crumble before the entire nation.

"Because Juliet Bell was also competing," I said quietly. "And he couldn't stand the thought of me winning something she wanted."