It didn't matter what I did; the internet hated me. On the best days, our firm email would get 200–300 emails sent from fake email addresses calling me everything from a bad mother to a whore. On the worst, we would have full days of no-shows and I'd go home to more letters of hatred waiting in the postbox. The staff at the office were kind to me, but I couldn't help but feel suspicious of everyone around me.

So who did I think it was?

That's the problem; I had no idea. Whoever it was didn't just need to have access to my schedule; they also needed to know more personal details of my life with Leah. The messages that were sent to the press spoke of the petty little arguments that Leah and I had. They mentioned things like me being frustrated about her not wanting to get Teddy a bike for Christmas and how she was out at another event just three days after the last one. They were fake, there was no possible way they could've come from my account, but the intricate details they contained made it impossible to make these aren't real sound at all believable.

I'm ashamed to say that Paula was my first thought. She was the person I spoke to when I was irritated with Leah and the person who knew the most about my whereabouts. It just didn't make any sense. Paula is intelligent enough to know the impact of a scandal like this on the firm; she knows it would just jeopardise her position if we had to cut back because of a dip in reputation. For days, I went around and around in my own head, desperately trying to find a reason why she would want to destroy my life like this. I didn't find one, but I did remember something that cleared her. One of the articles spoke about my overnight stay in a hotel just outside of London on August 13th and how the paparazzi hadn't managed to get a picture of me because I left through a side exit. Every other person in the office thought I was at that hotel, except Paula. She knew I was 200 miles away, meeting with a witness protection officer. There was no way she would've sent the paparazzi to a hotel she knew I wasn't in and risked them thinking she was lying or that the story was a non-starter. It wasn't her.

Of course, Rhys and Hannah crossed my mind. If I had any enemies, they would be at the top of the list. It didn't take long to eliminate them; I knew they'd have no way of knowing anything about my daily life, and even if mum was giving Rhys a rundown, even she didn't know enough to piece this story together so perfectly.

The moment when I started to realise that I was just driving myself insane trying to work out who the culprit was came when I began going through a mental list of Leah's family members. It was the lowest point for me, a point of pure desperation as I tried to uncover the truth and salvage my marriage.

It was then that I realised that a phrase I was taught in university had more truth to it than I had originally thought: a good lawyer doesn't win a case; a good legal team does. I didn't have a team, not in this battle. There wasn't one person in my life—not my mum, not Paula, not Leah—who hadn't doubted me.

So with every new tabloid story, I started to care less. I didn't care that the world hated me because I hated the world too. The problem with caring less was that it seemed to incriminate me more. The more I moved on with my life, the more they said I didn't care about Leah's broken heart.

Until that one article came out.

Leah Williamson spotted in a passionate kiss with an unknown woman.

That one ripped my heart out for two reasons. The first being the devastation that Leah had moved on, albeit with someone from her management team that I knew would probably now lose their job (not that I'm bitter, obviously). The second being the realisation that the media weren't just intent on making me the bad person in this story; they just wanted the clicks.

I worried for her reputation, of course I did. If what I had received online was anything to go by, she would be torn apart for moving on so quickly. She wasn't, though. To my surprise, for every hundred comments on the story, only one or two spoke of how quickly she had found someone else; the rest were congratulating her.

So I was still the bad guy. Got it.

There is no handbook on separation. There were no laws to tell me whether I could or couldn't ask her about it, so I chose not to. Similarly, she chose not to reach out to me about it either. Each week, I would think that she might bring it up when she collected the boys, but she never did.

But the article did change one thing.

It was a Wednesday morning when I had an unexpected visitor to the office. The secretary had given me a two-minute heads-up after seeing Amanda enter the building on the cameras, leaving me to spend an entire 120 seconds bracing for impact. Despite our chat at Leo's birthday, Amanda and I had been in the same company just two times since, one to discuss the return of her investment and subsequent removal from the business, and the second time to sign off on the final papers. We were civil, but an unannounced visit wasn't something I expected from her.

She knocked on the door before entering, waiting for me to invite her inside before she took her place on the opposite side of my desk. She looked tired; that was the first thing I noticed.

"Is everything okay?"
"Yes. I was hoping we could talk? In confidence."
"Of course."

Ever since the allegations against me had been publicised, Amanda had never once considered that they might be untrue. That hadn't hurt just as much as Leah not believing me, but it had hurt more than the suspicion of others did. That's why I never expected that she would utter the words she did, especially not directly to me.

"Did you cheat on Leah, Sophie?"
"No."
"A drunken one-night stand? A client? A kiss?"
"Never."
"Did you ever think about it?"
"No."
"Did you ever message anyone in a way that could've misled them?"
"No."

She sat silent for a minute. I couldn't work out what this was; could it be some kind of test? A hope that I would admit something before the inevitable divorce papers arrived with me?

"I've been tearing my hair recently about all of this. It was easy at first to believe it. Leah was crying, and I hope you never have to hear your children crying the way she did. All that evidence, all of those messages, dates, and pictures, and all the things that person who leaked it to the press knew, how can you say that's a lie?"
"I can't explain it because I don't understand it, Amanda. I've got a book filled with points from every article, as if it's a fucking case I can crack, but I can't. I don't know who did this; I don't know what their end game is, but I can tell you that I did not cheat on your daughter, and all I can do is keep saying that and hope that even if I don't get my life back, someday you'll believe me, and I can at least stop feeling like this."
"What doesn't make sense to me is how they knew where Leah would be."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm sure you've seen the article with the other woman?"
"Yeah." I sighed.
"So, if this was someone who knew you wee enough to know about this affair, how do they now know where Leah would be to get that picture?"
"Maybe they were tailing her? The press do that sometimes."
"They couldn't have been, Sophie. She was meant to be at an event. She was on the guest list, they would've thought she would be there."
"So what're you thinking?"
"I'm thinking this was never an attempt to ruin you."
"You think someone's trying to ruin Leah?"
"Yes."
"I'll do whatever you need me to do to protect her."
"If I put my trust in you and you turn out to be lying, I swear to god I will never forgive you, Sophie."
"I would never allow you to put your trust in me about something Leah can't if it wasn't true."
"So talk me through it. Who knows what?"

I can't describe how it felt to finally have someone who wanted to believe me. I didn't know where it had come from or why it was happening, but it was. I talked Amanda through the people on my side who knew things, giving her reasons that it couldn't be them.

"And you're absolutely sure about Paula? She still speaks to Leah, checks in her and things like that." Amanda asked.
"Absolutely certain. She isn't our person."
"It has to be someone from our side, then."
"That's what I think too; I just don't know who."
"That new player on Leah's team, the one being tipped to be the next captain. Have you met her?"
"Jenna? A few times, yeah."
"Let's start with her."
"Amanda, I don't want you putting yourself in a position where Leah feels you've taken sides." I sighed.
"I know. Neither do I. So I'll say I've decided to be civil with you for the sake of the children, but I'll have to keep up my requests for the divorce so she doesn't suspect me. I haven't exactly been singing your praises recently." She chuckled.
"I understand. Maybe just don't push for it to happen so soon?"

She laughed with me at that. She didn't tell me what her plan was, just that she would be careful to make sure Leah was protected in all of this. The last thing I wanted was to have Leah feel as isolated as I had.

In the weeks that followed, Amanda would visit the house on the pretence of seeing the children, but she would actually be letting me know little snippets of information she had gathered. It became clear quite quickly that if Leah's teammate, Jenna, was to be doing this, she couldn't have been doing it alone. Through some hint-dropping, Amanda found out that Leah wasn't overly keen on her, so we were semi-certain that Jenna wouldn't have known details of the little arguments Leah and I had, but there was no reason it couldn't have been that she was working with someone who was closer to Leah.

It was a Friday in April when the temporary high I'd been experiencing suddenly disappeared. With our new routine, I finished work at 2pm on Fridays to allow me to spend time with the kids before they left to spend the weekend with Leah. She arrived early that night, and I could tell by the paleness of her face that something was wrong when I opened the door. Usually, she'd follow me inside and wait as I said goodbye to the boys, but that night she stood firm on the step.

"Can we talk?"
"Sure, are you coming in?"
"I don't want them to hear."

I stepped outside in my socks, looking at her for some kind of reassurance that this wasn't what I thought it was.

"Soph, I - em - I wanted you to - sorry."
"You've done it, haven't you?" I exhaled.
"Yeah. I think it's for the best. Christ, I never thought I would say that. I just think with the media and the boys, maybe it's best we just cut ties properly and let this all die down. While we're still married they -"
"I get it."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I guess you're right. I'm guessing the papers are on their way?"
"My solicitor said they should be with you on Monday. I'm really -"
"It's fine. Really. I expected that it would happen; I just didn't think it would be so soon."

That night I watched the taillights of her car drive out of the driveway, knowing that a piece of my heart had gone with them. In the days that followed, the papers would arrive and it would become clear that Leah's solicitors were out for blood, but unfortunately for them, so was I.

Out for the blood of whoever had done this to us. And little did I know, the answers to my questions would come from the articles I had cursed. I just had to be patient.