He Spent a Year Paying a Doctor to Write Down a Fragile, Unstable Version of Me That Didn’t Exist — So When He Finally Set Me Aside, the Whole World Would Believe I’d Simply Come Apart on My Own

While I recovered in that quiet clinic, Christian flooded Gabriel’s phone with frantic messages, playing the shattered fiancé, and posted a black-and-white photo online about the love of his life “fighting through a health crisis.” Millions praised his devotion.

I was sick reading it.

On the fourth day, Gabriel came in and held up a small USB drive.

“I recorded part of what he said,” he admitted.

“That night.

In your room.” I stared at him, and the anger I had been holding came up.

“You suspected him before all this,” I said.

“Didn’t you.” He confessed that he had — that for weeks he’d seen the strange payments: large sums to a woman named Sabrina Croft, a house bought through a shell company in Indianapolis, private school fees for a child.