Chapter 81 The Fallout ( Again)
Thursday - 3:45 PM
Elena sat on Alexander’s couch, Leo snuggled up and asleep right beside her, while she scrolled endlessly on her phone.
The press conference had wrapped up three hours ago. Now the real storm had hit—the internet.
She kept refreshing Twitter.
#JusticeForElena was climbing fast. Number two in the world.
She tapped the hashtag.
People were furious.
Wait… Christopher Sterling ILLEGALLY accessed databases? For a personal vendetta? That’s not just unethical, that’s criminal.
This woman and her kid were harassed for DAYS because of calculated lies. Makes me sick.
Felicia Moreno attacked her stepsister out of jealousy. Who does that?
Everyone who shared those articles owes Elena Moreno an apology.
Another refresh.
Victoria Thorne calmly destroyed them with evidence—LEGENDARY.
Alexander Thorne: 'I don’t regret the woman I love.' We STAN.
That poor three-year-old. Leave him alone.
She kept scrolling. Almost obsessively.
Instagram was catching up too. Comments on old posts were changing.
I’m sorry I believed the articles. Should have waited for facts.
We owe you an apology.
You were so brave today.
Not all the comments were kind. Some people still clung to the original story, dug in and cruel. But honestly, the tide had turned.
Alexander finally came out from his office. "You’re still reading that?"
"I can’t stop."
"Probably not healthy."
"Probably not," she said, but her thumb kept moving.
He sat down next to her. Scanned her phone.
"People are defending you."
"Some people. Not everyone."
"But some is better than none."
Leo stirred, muttered something about velociraptors, then drifted back.
Elena’s phone buzzed. Victoria.
Christopher was just escorted out of Sterling & Associates. Security walked him to his car.
Already?
His uncle moved fast. The firm doesn’t want the liability.
Elena flashed the screen at Alexander.
"Damn," Alexander said.
"Is it wrong that I’m glad?"
"That’s justice."
Sterling & Associates
Christopher sat across from Martin Sterling’s desk. His uncle looked like a statue—cold and unreadable.
"You accessed confidential employment databases for personal reasons."
"It wasn’t technically illegal—"
"Stop." Martin slapped the desk. "You used firm resources to ruin someone’s reputation just to impress a girl. That’s not a legal defense."
"Uncle Martin—"
"You embarrassed us internationally. Every client is questioning our ethics. Our integrity."
"I can explain—"
"What, the screenshots of your emails? The texts? Database logs at two in the morning?"
Christopher opened his mouth and closed it again.
"The partners had an emergency meeting. It was unanimous." Martin stood. "Security will escort you out."
"You’re firing me?"
"You’re on administrative leave pending investigations. If you’re charged, you’re done. If you’re disbarred, you’re done. If, somehow, you’re cleared, we’ll talk."
"This is—my career—"
"You should’ve thought about that before you broke laws and ethics rules for someone who was using you."
Christopher flinched.
Martin pressed his desk button. "Security, please."
Two men appeared.
"Mr. Sterling needs to collect his belongings and leave."
Christopher stood, shaking, handed over his access card.
Headed to his office surrounded by security.
People watched from their cubicles. Whispering.
He grabbed a photo frame, a mug, some pens. Nothing else. Everything belonged to the company. The company that didn’t want him anymore.
They walked him to the elevator. Down in silence.
He crossed the lobby where he'd strutted that morning. Outside, cameras were waiting.
Flashes exploded.
"Mr. Sterling! Did you illegally access databases?"
"Are you being disbarred?"
"Do you regret helping Felicia Moreno?"
He kept his head down and hurried to his car.
Inside, doors locked, he sat trembling.
His phone buzzed. A text from his father.
Come home. We need to talk.
Not I’m proud of you or We’ll fight this.
Just: We need to talk.
Christopher started the car and drove off.
Leaving Sterling & Associates behind—maybe for the last time.
In one afternoon, his future was shattered.
All because Felicia made him feel important. Someone worth loving.
She’d used him.
He was too desperate to see the truth.
5:30 PM - Upscale Café
Felicia sat alone in the corner, sunglasses on even though she was inside.
Her coffee sat untouched, cold.
Two women were whispering nearby.
"That’s her."
"You sure?"
"Positive. Saw her Instagram. That’s Felicia Moreno."
"The one who attacked her stepsister?"
"With that lawyer guy."
"Jesus. Who does that?"
Felicia’s knuckles whitened around her phone.
Notifications had been rolling in all day—almost all negative.
Instagram: 847 new alerts.
You should be ashamed.
Attacking your own sister? Pathetic.
You ruined a woman’s life out of jealousy.
Her follower count was falling fast. She watched the number dwindle.
3,847.
3,842.
3,831.
Friends unfollowing. Acquaintances fading away.
A message popped up. Sarah, her college roommate.
I can’t believe you did that to your own sister. Don’t contact me again.
Felicia typed back: She’s not my real sister—
But the message wouldn’t send. Blocked.
Another message—Melissa from the gym.
Taking you off the group chat. Nobody wants you there.
She was removed before she could reply.
Emily from book club chimed in.
What you did was cruel. We’re not friends anymore.
One by one, her social circle vanished.
The women next to her kept whispering.
Felicia stood suddenly. Grabbed her purse.
Left without touching her coffee.
On the street, someone recognized her.
Pulled out a phone—started recording.
Felicia kept her head down and walked faster.
Behind her, someone yelled, "That’s the girl who lied about her sister!"
She ran to her car, slipped inside, locked the doors.
Sat there, just breathing.
Her phone buzzed again. Her mother.
Come home. Now.
Felicia started the car, hands shaking.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Elena was supposed to be ruined—humiliated, exiled.
Now Felicia was the one running, being whispered about, losing everything.
She drove home in silence, sunglasses still on, trying hard not to cry.
7:00 PM - High-Rise Law Office
Viviana sat across from Harold Chen, Manhattan’s finest (and most expensive) defense attorney.
She looked flawless—tailored suit, perfect hair, back straight.
Harold examined digital files, finally looked up.
"This is bad."
"How bad?"
"Criminal charges bad. Database access is a felony. There’s conspiracy, fraud, defamation, harassment of a minor—"
"Those are Christopher’s crimes."
"You worked with him. Texts prove it."
"Texts can be twisted."
"Not when you’re discussing strategy. 'Mother says thank you'—Felicia basically named you in the plot."
Viviana’s jaw clenched. "What can we do?"
"Deny everything. Claim you had no idea about Christopher’s methods. Pretend Felicia was venting, not orchestrating a campaign."
"Will that help?"
"If we create enough doubt. But Viviana, you need to be straight with me. Did you know about the illegal database access?"
"I knew he had info; I didn’t ask where it came from."
"That’s willful ignorance—not a defense."
"Then what?"
"Settle. Quietly. Offer Elena a big sum to drop criminal charges."
"Absolutely not."
"Viviana—"
"I won’t pay her off. That’s admitting guilt."
"You may have no choice. At trial, everything comes out. Every text, every email."
"Let it come out. We’ll fight."
Harold sighed. "You’re not listening. The evidence is strong. Public opinion’s already against you. Juries are people, they’ve watched the news. They saw Elena with her kid. They saw your family orchestrating attacks."
"I didn’t attack anyone—"
"You coordinated with Felicia and a lawyer to wreck someone’s reputation using illegal info. That’s conspiracy, plain and simple."
Viviana stared out the window.
"This isn’t over," she whispered.
"If the evidence stands—and it looks solid—you’re in serious trouble."
"Evidence can be challenged."
"Not digital evidence. Timestamps, metadata—they’re bulletproof."
"Then we make it about Victoria Thorne. How did she get her info? Invasion of privacy. Illegal hacking."
"That’s pushing it—"
"I don’t care. I’m not settling. I’m not paying. And I’m not admitting to anything." She got up. "Find me a defense. That’s your job."
Harold watched her walk out.
He’d seen doomed cases before. This was definitely one.
Viviana Moreno was going down. The only question was how messy she’d make things—and how many people she’d drag with her.
Back at Alexander’s Apartment
Elena sat at the kitchen table, laptop open, reading the criminal charges Victoria’s lawyers had filed.
Commonwealth of New York v. Christopher Sterling, Felicia Moreno, and Viviana Moreno
Conspiracy. Fraud. Illegal database access. Defamation. Harassment. Invasion of privacy.
It felt completely unreal.
Her own stepmother. Facing real criminal charges.
Because of her.
"You okay?" Alexander set a mug of tea next to her.
"I don’t know."
"That’s fair."
She closed the laptop.
"I keep thinking about Felicia, when we were kids. Before everything went bad."
"You two were close?"
"Not really. But we weren’t enemies. We just coexisted. Then she started trying to compete for everything—grades, friends, boys." Elena traced the mug’s rim. "I never understood why."
"Some people need to win."
"I wasn’t playing. I just wanted to survive. Take care of my grandmother." She looked up. "And now Felicia’s facing charges because she couldn’t handle me being happy."
"That’s not your fault."
"Isn’t it? If I’d just stayed away from you—"
"Don’t do that." Alexander sat across from her. "You fell in love. Had a kid. Built a life. That’s not a crime. The lying, the plots, the illegal database stuff—that’s on them."
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
But then she answered.
"Hello?"
Silence. Then: "Elena. It’s Marcus."
She went rigid. Her heart skipped.
"What do you want?"
"To talk. In person. There’s something you need to know."
"I don’t want to hear it—"
"It’s about your mother."
Elena stopped breathing.
"What about her?"
"Not over the phone. Please. Tomorrow. Just one hour."
"Why should I?"
"Because you deserve the truth. About what really happened. Why she left."
"She left because she couldn’t handle being a mother—"
"No." Marcus’s voice cracked. "That’s what Viviana told you. It’s not what happened."
Elena’s grip tightened.
"What are you saying?"
"Tomorrow. Please. I’ll come to you. Wherever you want. Just—please."
She looked at Alexander. He nodded.
"Okay. Tomorrow. Two o’clock. Alexander’s building lobby."
"Thank you."
She hung up.
Stared at her phone.
"What did he say?" Alexander asked.
"Something about my mother. About what really happened."
"Do you believe him?"
"I don’t know." She set the phone down. "But I need to find out."
From the living room, Leo shouted, "Mama! The dinosaurs are fighting!"
She couldn’t help but smile. "Are they?"
"Yeah! The T-Rex is winning!"
"Of course he is."
She got up. Went to her son.
Left the laptop and the legal files behind.
For now, she’d just be a mother.
Tomorrow, she’d face whatever Marcus had been keeping from her.
About her mother.
About the past.
The woman who left her twenty years ago.
And maybe—maybe—she’d finally get the truth.