For five years, I was NFL superstar Gordon Ryder’s secret wife.

Then he went public with his new romance on Instagram.

TMZ painted me as a psycho. A "jersey chaser."

His fans crucified me all over the internet.

My cheating husband played the lovesick hero, while I was the villain.

Did he really think I was just some ordinary freelancer?

He’s forgotten who bankrolled the five million dollars that launched his career—the one that got him that Super Bowl ring.

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1

I had just wrapped up a quarterly company meeting when my phone started blowing up with calls from my family.

"Natalie! What the hell is going on?" The first to call was my younger sister, Ava Vanderbilt.

"Huh? What are you talking about? What's going on?"

Her frantic tone left me utterly baffled.

"Oh, well, if you don't know, never mind. As long as you're okay. I was just calling to check on your meeting." She seemed relieved to hear my confused voice.

The second call was from my best friend, Hailey.

"Natalie! Are you okay? Please tell me you're holding up." She sounded incredibly anxious on the other end.

"What?"

My confusion deepened.

"Oh, you haven't heard? Then... forget it!" she said quickly. "I was just calling to see how you were doing! You know, being on the other side of the world and all!"

Hailey then fumbled through a few bad jokes, her laughter a little too loud, before abruptly hanging up.

Then came a video call from my mom.

"Natalie! Are you okay?" she asked, her voice on the verge of tears.

"Okay, that's it. What on earth is happening?" I finally snapped.

My mom fell silent for a few seconds, as if startled by my reaction. Then, she exclaimed, "Natalie, you haven't seen it? Gordon and that model just went public! Someone dug up your info and is calling you some psycho trying to wreck their relationship!"

"The entire internet is ripping you to shreds!"

"Gordon Ryder?" I muttered, my brow furrowing. "He wouldn't dare."

"Natalie, you pay him no mind, you hear me? Your father, your brother, and I already have the legal team prepping a lawsuit!" my mom snarled.

I pressed my temples, feeling a wave of exhaustion. "Mom! Hold on, don't do anything rash. Tell Dad and Mason to stand down, too. Let me figure out what's going on first. I can handle this."

After a long talk, my mom finally promised she wouldn't interfere.

I opened X, and the trending topics instantly flooded my screen.

"Super Bowl MVP Gordon Ryder's Relationship Exposed!"

"'The Rocket' Finds True Love."

"Gordon Ryder Gifts Custom Jewelry to Savannah Monroe."

It turned out that Gordon had posted a photo earlier. The picture showed the back of a woman standing next to a magnificent bouquet of diamond roses. The caption read: "The brightest stars for the most brilliant you."

At the same time, Savannah had also posted a photo of them kissing on a yacht in Miami. Her caption was: "The stars are beautiful, but I think I love you more."

In an instant, the internet exploded. Thousands of fans flooded their posts with comments, all congratulating the perfect couple.

"Oh my god, my ship is finally real!"

"Get married right now!"

Many fans started digging up old clips of Gordon and Savannah's interactions at various events.

"They are a match made in heaven! They so belong together. This is the sweetest couple in history!"

"I agree! They should get married right now. They look so perfect together! I believe in love again!"

I read the comments and let out a cold laugh. Then, I immediately dialed Gordon's number.

"Ooh, not so rough…"

The moment the call connected, Savannah’s flirtatious giggles and Gordon’s panting murmurs echoed from the other end. The call lasted only a few seconds before it was abruptly disconnected.

A wave of physical nausea and overwhelming rage washed over me. That night, I immediately posted a photo of our Nevada marriage certificate on my private account.

The next day, I booked the earliest flight to Los Angeles. I wanted to see just how long Gordon could keep this charade going once I was back.

However, my X account was completely overrun with hate overnight.

Suddenly, I became a headline, too. The top search result screamed: "Shameless Woman Fakes Marriage Certificate with Super Bowl MVP Gordon Ryder."

Less than ten minutes later, Gordon posted a response on X. He admitted to dating me in college but claimed we had parted ways amicably long ago.

He claimed the only person he was wholeheartedly pursuing now was Savannah.

Thousands of fans commented under his new post. Most of them were tearing me apart.

"How shameless! They broke up ages ago, and she goes and fakes a marriage certificate! So desperate!"

"She's ridiculously shameless."

"Get lost and stay away from Gordon! He deserves better!"

"Gordon doesn't love you anymore, disappear from his life!"

Just as I got off the plane, Gordon's call came through.

He told me to meet him at his mansion in Beverly Hills.

However, a work emergency demanded my immediate attention, and I had to deal with it first. I didn't make it to the mansion until after I finished my work, close to midnight.

I didn't expect him to wait. To my surprise, he'd been stewing in the mansion all day.

I walked in and saw him sitting on the living room sofa. The moment he saw me, he immediately bombarded me with questions: "It's midnight! Where the hell have you been?"

I was already exhausted from the unexpected work crisis. I had barely sunk into the sofa when he launched into his tirade. The audacity made me laugh. "You cheated, and you're yelling at me? You should be grateful I showed up at all."

He froze the moment he heard the word "cheated." After a beat, he composed himself, his tone softening as he tried to justify his actions. "I'm a two-time Super Bowl MVP. You're not on my level anymore."

"Oh? Not on your level? What's that supposed to mean? I think I'm doing just fine."

"Ha!" Gordon scoffed, looking at me with utter contempt. "I'm a two-time Super Bowl MVP. I have hundreds of millions in endorsements, a net worth in the billions. And you? You're just some freelance UX designer. We're not in the same league anymore, Natalie."

A laugh, sharp and bitter, escaped my lips when he declared we weren't in the same league.

"Then what about what I did for you five years ago?"

"It was just five million dollars! If you want it, I can pay you back tenfold," Gordon said. He stood up, looking down at me with a face full of disdain. Then he scoffed and turned to leave.

I scrambled to stop him, but he impatiently shoved me hard against the wall.

"Enough, Natalie! Stop clinging to me like something I scraped off my shoe. You make me sick!"

Gordon kicked away a nearby decorative vase, cursed, and left without a backward glance.

I slid down the wall, slumping onto the carpet as I pressed my tongue hard against the inside of my cheek. My anger was a white-hot burn.

I immediately thought of a thousand ways to make this scumbag pay. No matter what, I was going to destroy him completely.

Mom was right. Handsome men are all liars. Just assholes to the core.

The next day, the paparazzi somehow got photos of me going to his mansion in the middle of the night and leaving in a disheveled state moments later. They even got a few close-ups of me slumped on the carpet.

I became a trending topic on X again. This time, it wasn't just Gordon and Savannah's fans; even the general public was chiming in with vicious comments about me.

"My god, is this woman a parasite who can't live without him? She even knelt down to beg him! How pathetic!"

"Not a fan, but she makes me sick. Doesn't she get what a breakup means? Gross."

Soon, my personal information and a list of my clients were plastered all over the internet. I started receiving all sorts of malicious mail—bloody razor blades, dead rats, and even obscene images with my face photoshopped onto them.

Someone even found a photo of me talking and clinking glasses with a Silicon Valley investor. There was nothing inappropriate in the picture.

However, people started twisting the truth, claiming I was shamelessly providing sexual services to multiple Silicon Valley tycoons on the side.

I was trending for so long, the platform should have just crowned me the "Queen of Trending Topics." Everyone was talking about me, and the comment sections of all related posts were filled with false accusations from keyboard warriors.

"With so many tycoon clients, she must have made a fortune! Haha! So glad Gordon broke up with her!"

"How shameless! I wonder what her nightly rate is. No wonder she gets so many gigs! If it were me, I'd be a CEO by now! Hahaha!"

Even the small companies I worked with saw their stock prices take a severe hit. Thousands of fans boycotted their products. Some crazy fans even tried to report me to the IRS, accusing me of tax evasion.

It's the classic playbook for destroying a woman: spread vicious lies, turn the public against her, and cyberbully her into self-destruction.

However, I am not one to stay silent. I will not let those who spread lies about me get away with it. I will hold them legally accountable and make them pay for every last keystroke.