Chapter 25

Chapter 25
Clara's POV

I couldn't respond. My throat had closed, my chest constricting as if someone had wrapped steel bands around my ribs. This wasn't just gossip. This wasn't whispers in a bathroom or cold shoulders at a gala. This was Vivian Vance, an actress with millions of followers, using her platform to paint me as a scheming villain in front of a global audience.

"We need to call Leo," Maya said, her voice cutting through the static in my head. "And your lawyer. Right now."

I nodded mechanically, but my hands were shaking too hard to hold my phone. Maya was already dialing, her movements efficient and calm in a way that made me want to weep with gratitude.

She spoke quickly, explaining the situation to someone on the other end, while I sat frozen on the bench where minutes ago I'd been laughing about Professor Harrison's newspaper.

Hope stirred in her stroller, making the small sound that usually preceded waking. I reached for her instinctively, my body moving before my mind could catch up.

She blinked up at me, her gray eyes so much like Julian's, completely unaware that her mother had just been publicly crucified by one of the most famous women in America.

"It's okay," I whispered to her, though my voice cracked on the words. "It's going to be okay."

But I didn't believe it. Because even as I held my daughter, my phone began buzzing in my bag. Notifications piling up, one after another, as people I hadn't spoken to in years found ways to reach me.

Messages ranging from concerned to accusatory, all of them wanting to know if Vivian's story was true, if I'd really done what she claimed.

Maya ended her call and immediately began another. I heard her say "defamation," "legal action," "immediate response required." The words felt distant, muffled, as if I were hearing them through water.

Around us, the park continued its peaceful afternoon routine. Joggers passed by, a couple walked their dog, children played on the distant playground. Normal life, proceeding as if my world hadn't just imploded.

"Clara." Maya crouched in front of me, her hands gripping my shoulders. "Look at me."

I forced my eyes to focus on her face.

"This is a coordinated attack," she said, her voice low and fierce. "Eleanor's fingerprints are all over this. Vivian doesn't make a move without approval from the Sinclair PR machine." She squeezed my shoulders.

"They already have," I heard myself say. "People just watched her call me a gold digger who trapped Julian with a pregnancy. My name, my face, everything is out there now. How do I fight that?"

"With the truth." Maya's expression didn't waver. "With documentation. With every piece of evidence that shows what they actually did to you." She pulled out her phone again, opening a notes app. "We start with the timeline. When you actually met Julian, when you got pregnant, when Vivian's so-called engagement was announced. We show that her dates don't match reality."

Hope began to fuss, her small face scrunching in preparation for a cry. I lifted her from the stroller, holding her against my chest, feeling her warmth seep through my shirt. She calmed immediately, her head tucking under my chin in the way that always made my heart constrict.

My phone buzzed again. And again. I pulled it out with my free hand, seeing the notifications multiply across the screen. Instagram tags, Twitter mentions, Facebook messages from people I'd gone to college with, all of them linking back to Vivian's video.

Some expressed concern. Others demanded answers. A few were openly hostile, calling me exactly what Vivian had implied I was.

"I can't look at this," I said, my voice barely audible. "Maya, I can't."

She took the phone from my hand and powered it down. "Then don't. Let me handle the digital nightmare. You handle keeping yourself and Hope safe." She stood, already dialing another number. "Leo's on his way. We're going back to his place where there's actual security. Your apartment isn't equipped for this level of exposure."

"My apartment?" The words came out hollow. I'd been so focused on the video that I hadn't thought about the immediate practical implications. "They know where I live?"

Maya's expression answered before her words did. "They know everything, Clara. Address, workplace, daily routine. That's how these things work when someone with Vivian's resources decides to target you." She pressed the phone to her ear, speaking rapidly to whoever answered. "Which is why we move now, before the photographers and reporters start showing up."

I looked down at Hope, her small body relaxed and trusting against mine. She had no idea that her existence had just been weaponized, that millions of strangers were discussing whether she was a trap or a blessing, whether her mother was a victim or a villain.

The thought made my chest ache with a fury so intense it momentarily burned through the shock.

"She used my daughter," I said quietly. "She put Hope's existence on display for people to judge."

"I know." Maya's voice gentled. "And that's going to be one of the key points in the lawsuit. She violated Hope's privacy as a minor.

She made defamatory claims without evidence. She coordinated with Eleanor to destroy your reputation." She knelt beside me again. "But right now, we need to get you somewhere safe. Can you walk?"

I nodded, though my legs felt unsteady as I stood. Maya collapsed the stroller with practiced efficiency, then guided me toward the park exit where Leo's car was already pulling up to the curb. He emerged before the vehicle had fully stopped, his face tight with anger as he took in my expression.

He opened the car door, his hand steady on my elbow as I climbed in with Hope. "And I've got my security team monitoring your building. If anyone shows up there, we'll know."

The car door closed, muffling the street noise. I sat in the leather seat, holding my daughter, and felt the full weight of what had just happened settle over me like a shroud. Vivian hadn't just attacked me. She'd turned my pregnancy, my marriage, my daughter's birth into a public spectacle.

She'd invited the entire world to judge whether I deserved to exist in Julian's orbit.

And somewhere in Manhattan, in his pristine office with its view of the skyline, Julian was either watching the same video or about to be informed of its existence. I wondered if he'd defend me.

If he'd issue a statement correcting Vivian's lies. If he'd finally use his considerable power to protect the woman who'd given birth to his child.