Chapter 32 CHAPTER 32
Fake it till you make it
The glow of the tablet screen lit the otherwise dim hospital room. Tessa lay propped up against the pillows, the stiff white sheets tucked neatly around her, though her body ached in ways that no sterile bed could soothe. Her face bore the angry line of a healing cut, a scar that had turned into the centerpiece of the internet’s outrage.
The headlines scrolled endlessly before her weary eyes.
“Justice for Tessa!”
“Billionaire’s Bride Assaults His business partner —Public Demands Accountability.”
“How Much Is a Woman’s Scar Worth? $16 Million Lawsuit Pending.”
Everywhere she looked, her name was trending. Tweets, TikToks, Instagram reels, YouTube videos—all dissecting the moment Chloe’s hand landed on her face, replaying the restaurant footage caught by the diner’s CCTV. The video was grainy but damning. Tessa had become the face of injustice, the woman who carried her pain quietly until it burst into public view.
Her stomach knotted. The world saw a victim. She felt like a fraud.
Beside her, Ayisha perched on the hospital couch, a bowl of neatly sliced mango and pineapple balanced on her knees. She popped a piece into her mouth, the juices glistening on her lips, her laughter breaking the room’s silence.
“Can you believe this?” Ayisha grinned, waving her fork at the tablet. “Look at these comments! They’re calling Chloe a monster. Sponsors are pulling out of The Langford events already. People are dragging Ares for protecting her. And you, my darling Tessa…” She leaned forward, her grin widening. “…you’re a queen. A survivor. Everyone loves you.”
Tessa pressed the tablet’s screen off and set it face down on the bed tray. Her hands trembled slightly as she folded them together. “Ayisha, stop.”
“Stop what?” Ayisha’s tone was light, but her eyes sharpened.
“This,” Tessa whispered. Her throat was tight. “All of this pretending. The hashtags, the lawsuit, the outrage. I’m fine. It’s a cut. It will heal. I don’t need money from them. I don’t want to be paraded around like some wounded trophy.”
Ayisha’s laughter faded, replaced by a hard, calculating expression. She set the fruit bowl down with a deliberate clink. “Don’t be naïve, Tess. You think this is about a cut on your face? This is about power. This is about reclaiming everything Chloe stole from you. You spent seven years rotting in hell while your children grew up thinking you abandoned them. Now, the world is finally on your side, and you want to throw that away because what? You feel guilty?”
Tessa’s eyes shimmered with tears. “Because I don’t want to become like them. Bitter. Cruel. Twisting everything into a weapon.”
Ayisha leaned forward, her voice dropping low, sharp with conviction. “Listen to me. Those kids of yours need more than a broken mother crying over morality. They need stability. They need influence. They need a rich mommy who can fight Bianca, Ares, Chloe, Marcus—all of them and win. You can’t walk into their world with nothing. Money talks. Money screams. If you want your babies back, you need to play this game.”
Tessa shook her head, strands of hair falling into her face. “I don’t want money. I just want them. I’d live in a shack if it meant holding them again.”
Ayisha sat back, her laugh sharp and bitter. “And then what? Bianca sues for custody? Chloe brainwashes them? You think love is enough to fight billionaires? You’ll lose them before you even start. That’s why you need me. That’s why you need this lawsuit. Let the world crown you as the wronged mother, the brave survivor. Then only then can you take what’s yours.”
Tessa’s tears slipped free, sliding hotly down her cheeks. She hated the truth in Ayisha’s words almost as much as she hated her cold delivery.
“I don’t plan on putting my kids issue online. I am just waiting for you to tell me the right time to ask for custody.”
Ayisha grabbed another slice of pineapple, biting into it with relish, as if the conversation hadn’t cracked the air in two.
Silence pressed down on them, broken only by the hum of machines and the muffled footsteps of nurses passing in the hall.
Then came the knock.
Sharp. Firm. A sound that froze Tessa mid breath.
She turned, her heart lurching.
The door inched open.
And there he was.
Ares stood in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space, his dark suit crisp, his expression unreadable. His eyes found her instantly, and for a fleeting second the room shrank until it was only the two of them.
Tessa’s lips parted. “Ares…”
But Ayisha was already on her feet, sliding in front of the bed like a shield. Her body blocked his path, her stance deliberate and defiant. “No.”
Ares’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Ayisha said, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “You can’t waltz in here after months of ignoring her, of letting your so called wife bruise her face in front of the world. You can’t suddenly play the caring man. Not today.”
Ares’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Ayisha. I came to see her.” His eyes darted over her shoulder, softening as they landed on Tessa. “Just to see her.”
Ayisha’s voice sharpened like glass. “You’ve seen enough. Go back to your mansion, to your wife. Tessa doesn’t need you.”
Tessa’s throat constricted. She wanted to speak, to tell Ayisha to move aside, to beg Ares to sit with her for just five minutes, to ask about her children. But her body betrayed her—frozen, trembling, silent.
Ares took a slow step forward, but Ayisha raised her hand like a barrier. “Don’t test me. You may own businesses Ares, but this room isn’t yours.”
For a moment, the tension was so thick it was suffocating. Ares’s eyes flicked between Ayisha’s defiance and Tessa’s stricken face. His fists curled at his sides, his composure threatening to crack.
Then, with a sharp exhale, he stepped back. His face hardened, his voice cold. “Fine. Have it your way.”
He turned, his footsteps echoing against the polished hospital floor.
The door closed behind him with a final, heavy thud.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Tessa stared at the closed door, her heart aching in ways she couldn’t put into words.
Ayisha turned back to her, brushing her hands together like she had just taken out the trash. “Good. The last thing you need is him clouding your judgment.”
But Tessa’s tears betrayed her, rolling silently down her cheeks as she whispered, almost to herself, “He just wanted to see me…”
Ayisha shook her head, unmoved. “No, Tess. He wanted to weaken you. And I won’t let him.”
Tessa lowered her gaze to her lap, her hands twisting in the sheets. The internet screamed her name, the world rallied behind her, but in that quiet room, she had never felt more utterly alone.