Chapter 51

Chapter 51
MELISSA’S POV
I wake up because the pain in my head feels like someone is drilling through my skull. A throbbing pulse behind my eyes forces them open, but the moment I move, my vision blurs and the room spins in slow, sick circles.
I groan and try to sit up, only to feel something roll off the couch. Empty wine bottles clatter loudly against the floor, making me wince and hold my head. There are three bottles, maybe four. I can’t remember. My entire mouth tastes like bitterness and regret.
When I finally shift, I feel something sharp under my foot. A shattered wine glass lies beside me. Makeup wipes are scattered everywhere, stained with smeared foundation and mascara. My clothes from yesterday are tossed across the floor like I ripped them off without caring. Old takeout containers sit open on the table, half-eaten and stale.
Crumpled invoices litter the ground - unpaid bills, warnings, demands.
My hair feels hard in places, tangled in others. My face is stiff with dried makeup. I rub at my cheeks and my fingers come away black with mascara streaks. I look like someone who slept inside a storm.
My hands won’t stop shaking.
I reach for my phone, blinking through the dizziness, but the moment the screen lights up, my entire chest tightens. Notifications explode across the top of the screen.
Emails. Messages. Missed calls. Updates. Alerts.
Brand partnerships withdrawing.
Companies “no longer able to proceed.”
Managers “regretting to inform” me.
A PR agency stating they are “unable to continue representation due to recent events.”
Online gossip sites reporting I had a breakdown at a club last night.
Each ping makes my heart pound harder. My breathing becomes shallow. My throat feels like it’s closing. I scroll with trembling fingers. My vision is going in and out from the anxiety. Every line is another blow.
I whisper to myself, voice trembling, barely audible, “No… no, no, no… this can’t be happening… it’s Kat. She’s doing this. She has to be doing this.”
I feel myself spiraling again. I open my email and there it is - the one notification I pray I never see.
My largest sponsor, the one keeping my entire brand afloat, officially terminates their contract with me. “Due to reputation concerns.”
Those words feel like a knife. My stomach drops so hard it makes me choke.
I click on my boutique’s dashboard. Sales have crashed overnight. Hundreds unfollowed. Refund requests pile up. My employees send resignation letters. One of them writes, “I can’t deal with the drama anymore.”
Drama.
As if my entire life collapsing is entertainment.
I open social media. The comments are vicious.
“She’s unstable.”
“Mean girl karma.”
“Took Matt from her best friend now look at her.”
“She fell off.”
“She needs therapy not filters.”
I feel something inside me break. My breath hitches and suddenly I throw my phone across the room with a scream so raw it tears at my throat. It crashes against the wall and falls face-down. I crouch on the floor, pulling at my hair, rocking back and forth as tears stream down my face. I can barely breathe through the sobs. Everything hurts, from my chest to my brain to the weight of all the voices calling me a failure.
“Kat,” I whisper over and over, like her name is poison burning through my mouth. “This is her. She ruined everything… everything.”
I don’t know how long I stay on the floor before I hear the front door open.
Matt steps inside and freezes like he’s walked into a crime scene. His eyes move from the broken glass to the bottles, to the mess, to me curled up on the carpet.
“Melissa…” he whispers, but not with concern. More like shock. “What the hell happened here?”
I push myself up, feeling dizzy, and I stand. My emotions are so tangled and heavy I don’t even know how to contain them.
“It’s her, Matt,” I say, pointing wildly at nothing, my voice cracking. “She’s doing all of this. Kat is destroying me. She’s manipulating everything behind the scenes.”
Matt stares at me like I’ve grown another head. “Melissa, stop. You sound ridiculous. You’re imagining an enemy who doesn’t even care about you.”
His words cut deep. I swing around to face him. Tears are rolling down my face. “She stole everything from me! My peace. My reputation. And now she’s trying to steal my entire life!”
“She’s not thinking about you,” he says, rubbing his temples. “You’re paranoid. You’re literally creating drama out of thin air.”
“Thin air?” I shout, stepping close to him. “Are the brands dropping me thin air? Are the comments thin air? Are the videos of me at that club last night thin air? Open your eyes! She is behind this!”
Matt scoffs loudly. “God, Melissa. Do you even hear yourself? You’re obsessed with her.”
“No, you’re obsessed with her!” I scream back. “You defend her more than you defend me. You care about what she thinks more than what I’m going through. You’re still in love with her, admit it!”
Matt rolls his eyes so dramatically it makes my blood boil. “It’s pathetic how obsessed you are with her.”
I see red.
Before I even know what I’m doing, my hand connects with his face….hard. The sound echoes through the mess-filled room. My palm stings immediately.
Matt slowly turns his head back toward me. His eyes go dark and his face turns completely cold. No anger. No shock. Just emptiness.
He walks away.
The moment he turns, I start to panic.
“Matt, no, please, Matt!” I run after him, grabbing the back of his shirt, clinging to him desperately. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I cry, my voice breaking. “I’m losing my mind, Matt, please don’t leave me. I didn’t mean to….please.”
He ignores me. He doesn’t even look at me. His phone begins to ring and he steps away from me to answer it. I freeze, trying to calm my breathing, forcing myself to listen even though my thoughts are screaming.
Matt’s voice softens at first. “Hello?”
Then I watch something change in his expression.
His eyes widen slowly. His jaw tenses. A muscle in his cheek jumps. He stops breathing for a moment. Whoever is speaking has his full attention, and the color drains from his face like he’s hearing something impossible.
When the call ends, he lowers the phone so slowly it scares me.
“Matt?” I whisper shakily. “What… what happened? Who was that?”
He doesn’t answer at first.
Then finally, coldly, quietly, he says, “Someone… sent me photos.”
I swallow hard. “What photos?”
He looks at me with disbelief. “Paula.”
I blink. “Your mother?”
“Yes,” he snaps. “Photos of her… running errands for Kat. Carrying her bags. Holding umbrellas. Opening doors for her like she’s her personal assistant.”
A shriek rips out of my chest before I can control it.
“What?!”