The Ultimate Betrayal.

For years, Zac Efron had been caught in the carefully controlled narrative his father built. It wasn’t just about shaping an image for the public—it was about control, about rewriting history in a way that suited his father’s preferences. Zac, ever the loyal son, had spent his life accepting whatever his father said, never challenging the version of events that had been constructed around him. That included his father’s refusal to acknowledge Starla, Zac’s biological mother, as if she had never existed.
It was a blatant lie, one that became even more absurd considering Jenny, his father’s second wife, was younger than Zac himself. And yet, his father carried on the charade, pretending all four of his children had the same mother, acting as if Starla had never been part of the picture. Even more disturbing was how easily he expected Zac to go along with it.
At first, Zac did. Not because he agreed, but because it had been ingrained in him to never challenge his father.  That didn’t mean he was blind to the disrespect his mother was being subjected to. He saw it. He felt it. He just didn’t know how to fight back.
That’s where I came in.
I wasn’t bound by any loyalty to his father. I wasn’t raised to accept whatever narrative was forced upon me. And I wasn’t going to sit back and take whatever bullshit his dad spewed. So I called it out. I pointed out how shady it was that Starla was being erased. How unnatural it looked that she was nowhere to be seen in the family’s public narrative. And Zac? He was waiting for me to say something. He knew I would. He knew I wouldn’t let it slide.

At the same time, Zac stopped posting about the toddlers—another piece of the puzzle that had never really fit. I always suspected that his father had pressured him into sharing those posts, particularly about Olivia, and my suspicions were confirmed. Zac had simply gone along with it. He hadn’t wanted to, but his father’s influence had always been strong. Posting Olivia on Christmas and Valentine’s Day? That wasn’t Zac’s choice. That was his father pulling the strings, making sure the image he wanted was projected.
Once the facade started crumbling, Zac didn’t go along with it anymore. The posts stopped. The pressure lost its grip. His father no longer had the same hold over him.
And just like that, Zac was free.

When new little ones arrived from his second marriage, the father painted a picture of joy, insisting that his older sons were thrilled to be big brothers. He smiled, spoke of harmony, and acted as if the past had never happened.  That couldn’t have been further from the truth.  It was disturbing how he sometimes got the toddlers mixed up with Zac and Dylan when they were younger -- they don't even have the same mother, what the fuck?

Zac wasn’t excited. His brother wasn’t excited. The wounds of betrayal were still fresh, and no forced smiles or hollow words could erase them. And just when it seemed like the father’s false tale would become the story told to all, someone stepped in.  They tried to make the best of the situation but I could see through the phoniness, especially when Zac didn't acknowledge Jenny and the toddlers by name (he just referred to them as 'family' but didn't say something like thank you mom and dad and Jenny and the toddlers) at his Star Ceremony that's when I knew his jack ass father was shoving Olivia and Henry down Zac's throat.  It wasn't his own doing.

Zac posting his father's precious little affair girl for Christmas and Valentine's Day had been far too much especially when his father had no accountability and he expected his first family to just accept his new life with no objections because the children were innocent and I knew he would play the toddlers card to get people to play house with his second family.  If I hadn't brought up how his father will humiliate me and Zac at our own wedding, his father would have continued to live in his happy one-sided delusion.  I find it telling how they wanted Zac to post the precious babies but Jenny's own account is on private and Zac's father doesn't proudly show Jenny off but he wants Zac to post his little babies when he won't post them himself.

"You don’t get to rewrite history," a voice said firmly, standing between Zac and the expectations forced upon him. "You don’t get to move on like nothing happened while everyone else is left to deal with the pain you caused."
The father blinked, caught off guard. No one had dared to challenge his version of events before.  Now, the truth stood tall, unshaken by guilt or manipulation.

I would have accepted Zac's father's second marriage if he didn't cheat throughout his first marriage and just ended his first marriage cordially.  He didn't just cheat -- he wanted to get divorced right away when he was still married to his first wife and he gave his last name to his second wife like he was never married to his first wife!  AND HAVING TWO BABIES BACK TO BACK WHEN HE WASN'T DIVORCED FROM HIS FIRST WIFE YET -- THAT REALLY BLEW MY LID OFF.  That was the straw that broke the camel's back -- the way he went about his divorce with his first marriage.

Zac was no longer alone in this battle. He didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to smile through the weight of a story that wasn’t his. With someone by his side who saw through the lies, the wild nonsense came to an end.
The truth could not be erased. And those who had been wronged would never be forced to play a part in a story that wasn’t theirs to tell.

The mistress had finally realized the pain she had inflicted. She was sorry now. She knew what she had done. She had felt the sting of truth when I had unleashed my fury, calling her every name in the book, making sure she knew exactly how much harm she had caused.  She could feel my anger burn into her skin the way my first ex did when I spewed every vile word to ever exist for trying to get with my ex-best friend behind my back when I was the one who introduced the two for her approval. 

I didn't like my ex at all -- he was just a placeholder in high school until I could be with Zac. . .and it only lasted three months, but that didn't mean my ex could get with my so-called bestie I've known since I was 3 behind my back and say it's okay. . .I never hooked up with his bestie behind his back the way he did that to me. . .Anyway, the point is -- I blasted my first ex so much that he actually apologized and told me he didn't want me to hate him anymore for ruining my 30 year friendship because she was jealous a man wanted me and not her.  After that unnecessary drama with my first ex, that's when I kept telling myself if I had just waited for the right person back then I wouldn't need to deal with that dumb high school drama.

Some people liked to blame the mistress alone, as if she had acted in isolation.  I knew better. It took two to destroy something precious.  I placed the blame on both of them—on the mistress, and on the man’s father, who had made the choice to betray.

Still, as time passed, a voice whispered in my mind. This isn't who you are. This isn't the kind of person you strive to be. I had always believed in forgiveness, in kindness, in rising above anger. And yet, I had let myself sink into rage, throwing curses into the wind like daggers meant to wound.

The truth was releasing that anger had felt good. At least, in the moment. It had felt better than swallowing my pain and pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. It was a release, a storm that had raged after too long being kept inside.

Yet now, the storm had passed. And what was left?
I still carried the weight, still felt the burden of what had happened, but I knew something important—true strength wasn’t in pretending to be okay. True strength was in acknowledging the pain, letting it be felt, and deciding, in time, whether she was ready to let it go.

Forgiveness wasn’t instant. It wasn’t easy. And maybe, I wasn’t there yet. I also knew that carrying this anger forever would only hurt myself in the end.

One day, maybe, I would put it down. Maybe, I would walk forward, lighter, stronger, at peace. But today, I allowed myself to simply feel. And that, too, was enough.


Once upon a time, in a family that had stood strong for decades, a storm of betrayal changed everything. There was a man who had built a life with his wife for thirty years, raising their children together with love and dedication. But one day, he made choices that shattered the foundation of their home. He sought a new life with someone much younger, leaving behind not just his wife, but also the children who had once been his world.

Zac and Dylan, the sons who had grown under his guidance, were suddenly faced with a shocking truth. Their father, the man they had once admired, had not only betrayed their mother but had also created a new family out of that betrayal. And as if to erase the past, he gave his name to the new children while their mother stood alone, heartbroken and disregarded.
At first, Zac and Dylan tried to embrace the situation, asking those closest to them to welcome the new children as "bonus siblings." They hoped to make peace with the damage, convincing themselves that moving forward meant accepting everything. But not everyone could ignore the pain so easily.

One person stood firm, refusing to pretend that betrayal could be rewritten into something pure. She saw their mother’s silent sorrow, the way she carried the weight of a broken marriage while the man who vowed to love her paraded his new family in front of the world. She knew that pain didn’t need to be spoken to be real. And she knew that accepting the affair children as if nothing had happened would mean ignoring the deep wound their father had left behind.
Still, the man who had caused the damage carried on, blind to the consequences of his choices. He didn’t realize that the very children he now cherished would one day grow up and learn the truth. They would discover that their existence came at the cost of a broken home, of tears shed in silence, of holidays once filled with joy now tainted by sorrow. They would learn how their father had chosen them over his first family, not realizing the weight that choice would place on their young hearts.
Time passed, and the sons began to see what they had ignored before. They stopped pushing the idea of a perfect blended family. They no longer tried to force others to accept what could never be made right. And though they would always love their father, they couldn’t deny the pain he had caused—the pain that would forever be a part of their story.
One day, those innocent children, born into a world of decisions not their own, would have to face the reality of their father’s past. And when they did, they would have to ask themselves the hardest question of all: Was the love they were given worth the love that had been destroyed?
But that was a question only time could answer.

I was determined to not let my future children suffer the same fate as the surprise bonus toddlers.  My future children would be wanted and made with love and care -- not because they are transactions for a wealthy lifestyle with a rich aging old man who thinks he's still got it when he can marry someone younger than his first born.
---
Jenny thought she had a place at the red carpet events.  She walked the red carpets with her head held high, standing next to Zac’s father as if she had earned a place in Zac's fairytale stardom world. She basked in the glitz and glam, soaking in the flashing lights and the whispers of recognition that came from simply being attached to the father of a movie star.

But the truth was painfully obvious to everyone—except her.
Zac never mentioned her. Not in interviews, not in acceptance speeches, not in any moment that truly mattered. He spoke of his mother, the woman who took him to his acting lessons, who sacrificed for him, who stood by him when he was just a kid with a dream. He acknowledged his father, despite the damage he had done, simply out of obligation. But Jenny? She was a ghost. Unseen. Unspoken.
At first, I thought it was funny. Watching her stand there, oblivious, thinking she was part of something bigger than herself when, in reality, she was nothing more than an embarrassing afterthought. Maybe I should have let her continue in her delusion, let the world laugh at her the way I silently did.
But I felt sorry for her.
Not because she deserved my sympathy, but because she truly had no self-awareness. She wasn’t getting it. She had destroyed a family, broken a 30-year marriage, and yet she walked around like she was some kind of prize. She didn’t see the damage, the pain, the humiliation. And she certainly didn’t realize how ridiculous she looked to the public, standing next to a man who had thrown away his home, his stability, for a fleeting thrill.
So I spoke up.
Not for her sake, but because someone needed to make her see. Someone needed to force her to face what she had done, to understand that she wasn’t—and never would be—a real part of Zac’s story. She might have stolen a man, but she could never steal the respect, the love, or the legacy that belonged to Zac’s real mother.
And now? Now she knows.
She knows why she’ll never be acknowledged. She knows why her name will never be spoken in the moments that matter. And no matter how much she tries to pretend otherwise, no matter how many red carpets she stands on, she will always be the outsider looking in.