When Trevor found out, he was destroyed. The divorce proceedings were nasty. Britney wanted half of everything.
Trevor got himself a lawyer, a really good one, apparently. Six months ago, the divorce was finalized. Trevor kept the house.
Britney got some money, but nowhere near what she wanted, so she moved back in with our parents. That’s when she started up her old habits again. I met Mark at a work conference.
He was charming, successful, funny. We’d been taking things slow, which felt healthy. Adult.
I didn’t introduce him to my family for the first four months, but then my mom guilted me into bringing him to her birthday party. I should have known better. I watched Britney’s eyes light up when she saw him, that predatory smile crossing her face.
I stayed close to him for the first hour, but then Dad needed help with the grill, and Mom wanted me to check on something in the kitchen. I found them in the garage twenty minutes later. Britney was pressed up against him, her hand on his chest.
Mark was leaning back but not pulling away. And that’s when I heard it. That laugh.
I didn’t say anything. Just stood there in the doorway until Britney finally noticed me. “Maya!
Oh my god, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Really?” I said, my voice calm, detached. “Because it looks like you’re trying to seduce my boyfriend at our mother’s birthday party.”
Mark started stammering. “Maya, listen, she just—”
“Get out,” I said.
He left. Britney tried to follow me, but I locked myself in the bathroom. That’s where I was when I realized I was done being the victim.
I started with a Google search: Trevor Morrison divorce lawyer. It took me about fifteen minutes to find him. His name was James Whitmore, and his firm specialized in high-net-worth divorces.
I scrolled through his professional photos. Mid-thirties, dark hair, nice smile. Perfect.
I called his office on Monday morning. They had an opening that afternoon. James Whitmore’s office was in one of those downtown buildings made of glass and steel, the kind of place that screams expensive.
He walked in five minutes later, taller than his photos suggested, wearing a good suit and a confident handshake. “Miss Chen, thank you for coming in. How can I help you?”
“This is going to sound strange,” I began, “but I need your help with something that isn’t exactly legal advice.” He raised an eyebrow.
“You handled my sister’s divorce. Britney Chen.”
His expression changed, a professional mask sliding into place. “I can’t discuss the details of a client’s case.”
“I’m not asking you to.
I want to hire you for something different.”
I laid it all out for him. The years of betrayal, the pattern of behavior, the garage. “So, what exactly are you proposing?” he asked when I finished.
“I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend. I want to introduce you to my family, specifically to Britney. And I want to see what she does.”
He leaned back in his chair, studying me.
“That’s an interesting proposition.”
“I’ll pay you whatever your hourly rate is.”
“It’s not about the money, Miss Chen. It’s about ethics. Using my professional position to participate in what amounts to entrapment…”
“It’s not entrapment,” I countered.
“I’m not trying to get her arrested. I just want her to show everyone who she really is.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “And I think you might have your own reasons for wanting to help with that.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I saw what she put Trevor through. The manipulation, the lies, the way she tried to destroy a decent man just because she could.”
James was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “What’s your timeline?”
We met three more times over the next two weeks to plan.
James was meticulous. “The goal,” I told him, “is to expose her. Once my family sees her try to seduce my boyfriend, maybe they’ll finally stop making excuses.”
“And you’re sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“Your relationship with your sister is going to be permanently damaged.”
“It’s already permanently damaged,” I said. “I’m just tired of being the only one who admits it.”
We started “dating” publicly two weeks later. I posted photos of us on social media—coffee dates, dinners, a concert.
My mother called within twenty-four hours. “Maya, you’re seeing someone new! He’s handsome.
You have to bring him to Sunday dinner.”
Perfect. James picked me up at six on Sunday, dressed down in nice jeans and a leather jacket. He looked good, approachable—exactly the kind of guy Britney would see as a challenge.
My mother answered the door and immediately pulled him into a hug. Britney was curled on the couch with a glass of wine. I watched it happen in real time: that spark of interest, that calculating look.
“You must be the new boyfriend,” she said, walking over with her hand extended. “I’m Britney, the baby sister.”
Dinner was excruciating. Britney positioned herself across from James, leaning forward whenever she talked, laughing at everything he said, touching her hair, her neck—all the little things she does when she’s hunting.
James played his part perfectly, attentive to me but not overly so, friendly to Britney without being flirtatious. When Britney came back from the kitchen with pie, she made sure to sit next to James, her leg brushing against his under the table. I excused myself to use the bathroom.
When I came back five minutes later, she was showing him something on her phone, leaned in so close their shoulders were touching. In the car, James let out a long breath. “Your sister is persistent.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“She asked for my number.
Said she wanted to add me to the family group chat.”
Of course, she did. Over the next three weeks, Britney texted James constantly. He screenshotted every conversation and sent them to me.
“She’s building up to something,” James said during one of our meetings. “This is how she operates. Creates a sense of familiarity, makes the guy feel like they have a special connection.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
He pulled out a folder. “During Trevor’s divorce, part of my investigation involved documenting Britney’s pattern of infidelity.” He opened it. Inside were printed transcripts, photos, evidence of affairs with at least five different men during her three-year marriage.
“Jesus,” I whispered. “Why are you really helping me with this, James?”
He looked at me directly. “Because I watched your sister almost destroy a good man.
Trevor came into my office two years ago, and he was suicidal. When I helped him fight back, your sister tried to destroy my reputation. Filed a complaint with the bar association claiming I’d manufactured evidence.
It took months to clear my name. Call it petty if you want, but I’m human.”
“So what’s our endgame?”
He smiled. “I was hoping you’d ask that.”
The plan came together over the next few days.
My parents’ anniversary party was in three weeks—the perfect stage for Britney to make her move. But first, we needed to accelerate things. I started posting more couple photos, including a particularly cozy shot of us on his couch with the caption, “Perfect Sunday.”
My mother called immediately.
“Maya, you two look so serious!”
I knew that would get back to Britney. Sure enough, two hours later, James got a text from her: Wow, you guys are moving fast. Happy for you both.
The next day, another text: Hey, I’m going to be downtown Thursday. Want to grab coffee? James met her.
When he showed up at my apartment that evening, his expression was grim. “She made her play. Full court press.
Started with how she thinks I’m too good for you, how you’ve always been the unstable, jealous sister.” My stomach churned. “Then she put her hand on my leg and told me that if I ever wanted to talk to someone who really understands what it’s like to be in your family, she’s always available.”
The night before the party, we met one final time. “Last chance to back out,” he said.
“I’m not backing out,” I told him. “But… what happens after tomorrow? After we expose her?”
James looked at me for a long moment.
“Honestly, it started as revenge. But somewhere along the way, this stopped being entirely fake for me, Maya. You’re smart and funny and stronger than you give yourself credit for.
And spending time with you, even in this bizarre context, has been the highlight of my year.”
My heart did something complicated. “Let’s get through tomorrow,” he continued. “And then, when this is all over, maybe we can start fresh.
Go on a real first date. No ulterior motives.”
“I’d like that,” I said quietly. The anniversary party was at a rented event space overlooking the water.
I wore a new emerald-green dress that made me feel powerful. Britney was in white—tight, low-cut, impossible to ignore. She saw us walk in and made a beeline across the room, hugging me perfunctorily before giving James a longer, tighter embrace.
Around eight, the band took a break. That’s when Britney made her move. I watched from the corner of my eye as she touched James’s arm, leaned in close, and led him out onto the balcony.
I counted to thirty, then followed, staying in the shadows of the doorway. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you alone all night,” Britney was saying. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What’s that?” James asked.
“I don’t think Maya’s being honest with you. She’s always been jealous of me. She sees me as competition.”
“Actually, she hasn’t told me much about your relationship at all.”
Britney moved closer.
“That’s because she knows if you really understood our family, you’d see through her act.” She put her hand on his chest. “A guy like you deserves better than that.”
“Better like who?” James asked, his voice calm, neutral. “Someone who knows what she wants.
Someone who isn’t playing games.” Her hand slid up to his shoulder. “Someone like me.”
That’s when I stepped out of the shadows. “I thought you might say something like that.”
Britney jumped back, her face flushing.
“Maya, this isn’t what—”
“Isn’t what? Isn’t you trying to seduce my boyfriend at our parents’ anniversary party? Because that’s exactly what it looks like.”
“You don’t understand—”
“No, Britney.
For once, I understand perfectly.” I looked at James. “Tell her.”
He reached into his jacket pocket. “Britney, do you recognize me?
Really?” She stared at him, confused. “James Whitmore. Whitmore and Associates.
I represented your ex-husband in your divorce.”
I watched the color drain from her face. “That’s impossible. You and Maya… you’ve been dating.”
“We’ve been setting you up,” I said, “for two months.
Every text, every conversation. We documented all of it.”
“You can’t do this! This is entrapment or something!”
“It’s not entrapment,” James said calmly.
“I’m just a private citizen who agreed to help someone expose a pattern of destructive behavior.”
“Maya, please,” she turned to me, tears forming. “I’m your sister.”
“The way you were my sister with Connor, Daniel, Josh, Ryan, and Mark?” I pulled out my own phone. “And we’re going to show all of this to Mom and Dad, to everyone, tonight.”
The balcony door opened.
My mother stood there. “Girls, what’s going on out here?”
I looked at Britney. This was her last chance.
She said nothing. “Mom,” I said, “I need to talk to you and Dad. Right now.
All of us together.”
We sat in a small room off the main hall. I laid out everything—the years of betrayal, the setup with James, the texts, the screenshots. My mother cried.
My father sat in silence, his face getting redder. Britney tried to defend herself, but then James pulled out his folder, the one with copies of everything from her divorce. My father looked at Britney.
“Is this true? Any of it?”
She stammered, then fell silent. “I think you should leave, Britney,” my mother finally said.
Britney looked at me, her tears real now. “I hope you’re happy. You just destroyed our family.”
“No,” I said.
“You did that all by yourself. I just stopped covering for you.”
She left. My mother reached across the table and took my hand.
“Maya, I’m so sorry. All those years… we should have protected you. We should have seen what was happening.”
In the car, James and I sat in silence.
“You okay?” he finally asked. “I don’t know. I thought I’d feel better, more vindicated.
But mostly, I just feel tired.”
He reached over and took my hand. “Now we figure out what’s real. Because Maya, somewhere in the middle of this revenge plot, I started falling for you.”
Over the next few weeks, things slowly settled.
Britney moved out and started therapy. My parents kept their word about family counseling. It was awkward and painful, but necessary.
And James and I went on that first date, and a second, and a third. Turns out when you strip away the drama, we actually really liked each other. A year later, James proposed on a beach at sunset.
I said yes before he even finished asking. Britney sent a card from Seattle, where she had moved for a fresh start. Congratulations, it said.
You deserve all the happiness. On my wedding day, walking down the aisle toward James, I realized the revenge plot that brought us together didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that I had finally stood up for myself, that I’d stopped being a victim and started building the life I wanted.
The messiest beginnings can lead to the most beautiful endings. And as James slipped the ring on my finger, I realized I didn’t regret a single second of it.
