Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Mia was practically beaming, gushing about Miss Bennitt of the illustrious Bennitt family with animated excitement.

“You probably don’t even stand a chance of seeing her face, bless your heart. I mean, she’s a Harvard grad. She's way out of your

league. Word on the street is you're just a run-of-the-mill college girl. Managed to claw your way up to this point—gotta admire the

hustle, though no telling how many beds you've bounced through.”

From the moment Zoey knew Mia was hot on her trail, she braced herself for the inevitable barrage of mockery.

She didn’t bother with a response, just hobbled forward.

Mia sneered, snapping a photo of Zoey'’s retreating figure and blasting it to her clique with a hearty dose of ridicule.

[You see? Limping like a beggar.]

[This chick really thinks she’s something, doesn’t she? Daring to throw a punch.]

[She does look like a beggar, Mia. Heard your brother's getting hitched to the Bennitts? Is that because of Tyler's influence?]

The Bennitts' vast fortune made their daughter the cream of the crop, leagues beyond Zoey.

Mia kept up the chat in the group.

[My brother's ripe for marriage, and the folks are pressing him. Miss Bennitt's coming hsoon, right? Looks like the parents on

sides have had

little schemes. Who wouldn't want

to marry into the Bennitts likely

of heiresses his age that Fitch could

fell into a mix of congratulations and silence, unsure

made it to her car, her ankle swollen so badly she

at the bright lights in the distance, feeling like an outsider

to fit in, this circle

was her own effort compared to years of

chuckled bitterly, the sting of humiliation fresh as she recalled the pitiful texts she'd

the pain in her ankle, she drove off. Every cell in her body

through, she felt numb.

flipped through her phone, her eyes welling up at the sight of her

they shared was etched

was this all

phone

was the only photo she had with Fitch. After tonight, she'd avoid him as much

apart. Getting close

photo would erase the

and eventually, she couldn’t do it. She even created a hidden folder

memories, she tossed the phone aside and zoned

then, her phone pinged—a faint sound in the dark that