Chapter 189 Chapter Ninety-Four: The Fallout.
Chapter 189 Chapter Ninety-Four: The Fallout.
Chapter Ninety-Four: The Fallout.
Two Weeks Later
Remy sat alone in his office, the city skyline stretching beyond the glass walls, unnoticed. His attention was fixed on the scattered documents across his desk—contracts, reports, unfinished proposals he should have handled weeks ago. With everything that had happened to Ileana, his own responsibilities had fallen by the wayside.
Alex had reminded him more than once; always ending with threats.
“If this paperwork doesn’t get completed I’m going on a hunger strike.,”
he’d said with traces of humor in his voice.
Remy glanced up,
“Oh yeah? Then how will you take your little girlfriend on another date?”
Alex’s eyes widened, he hadn’t realized Remy knew.
“I—You! You’re right! I’d like to take her out again; so please complete your paperwork so I can leave this god forsaken place!”
Remy paused for a moment before they both burst into laughter.
Now, with the chaos finally slowing, Remy forced himself back into the rhythm of work—though his thoughts kept drifting elsewhere.
It had been just over two weeks since the arrests of the Thornes.
A few days after the initial charges, Rachel had broken. She revealed everything—her father’s involvement with Wyatt, the murders tied to Doxoten, and the network of people who had helped cover it all up. Her confession led directly to the arrests of Tessa Daniels who was arrested for fraud, defamation, and accessory to murder. And Officer Rhinestone, who was arrested for murder-for-hire. Each arrest unraveling what little remained of the Thornes’ carefully constructed façade.
The fallout was immediate—and relentless.
Every major news outlet ran the story. Social media exploded. Podcasters dissected every detail of the family’s downfall, speculating, condemning, theorizing. The once‑untouchable Thornes had fallen hard, and the public devoured every update.
Lorina Kely’s family stepped forward next.
They announced sweeping lawsuits against faculty members and students at Rowan, along with dozens of online figures who had publicly defamed their daughter. Interviews followed—measured, firm, unyielding.
Apologies poured in from all directions.
Some begged forgiveness. Others tried to justify their silence. But the Kelys refused to relent.
“We’re not interested in apologies,”
Mr. Kely said during one interview.
“We’re interested in accountability.”
Mr. Kely spoke next,
“None of you supported my baby when she was being dragged through the mud. May God have mercy on your souls…because me and my family won’t.”
Even Lorina’s former friends posted tearful videos, voices cracking as they admitted they hadn’t defended her when it mattered most.
Too little. Too late.
And the internet didn’t let them go unpunished. Floods of comments swarmed the school social media outlets asking how could “so-called friends” not defend someone so innocent.
Eventually, both Jennifer and Darcel withdrew from Rowan.
Corey and his parents issued their own public statement soon after—apologizing directly to the Kelys, confirming their cooperation with authorities, and announcing their intent to testify against the Thornes. Corey also released a separate apology addressed solely to Lorina.
“I failed you,”
he said, voice tight.
“And I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”
But the revelation that truly shook the public came days later.
Elise Thorne held a press conference.
With cameras flashing and reporters shouting questions, she laid everything bare—the truth about Ileana’s disappearance during the great-quake, the identity swap, the lies, the years of manipulation. She confirmed the truth about Ileana and Rachel, exposing the rot that had lived at the center of the Thorne family for over a decade.
The internet was merciless.
{OMG!! She literally replaced her own daughter?!}
{This family is sick. Absolutely sick.}
{Raising your husband’s affair child while discarding your own is some twisted karma.}
Thousands of comments followed. Some praised Elise for finally telling the truth. Many more tore her apart for waiting so long.
Mason tried to do damage control—statements, interviews, quiet legal maneuvering—but it didn’t matter. The story had grown too big. The truth was out, and it wasn’t going back in.
Among the noise, one name was consistently spoken with respect.
Ileana Green.
Users praised her restraint. Her silence. Her strength.
{She was always too good for the Thornes.}
{She found her real family without them.}
{I hope she can find peace in all of this!}
{#JusticeforIleana! #JusticeforLorina! Victims of the Thornes!}
The only thing still kept from the public was the truth behind Corey’s recovery—and the vaccine Panxoten. At Ileana’s request, all parties agreed to keep it confidential until the formula was perfected and Wyatt Matthews was officially in custody.
Some things, she insisted, needed to be done right.
A few days after the arrests, Whitney, Jonathan, and Rebecca showed up at Remy’s penthouse unannounced.
Whitney barely made it through the door before wrapping Ileana in a tight hug.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
she demanded, voice breaking.
“Do you have any idea how terrifying it was watching all of this unfold and realizing you were in the middle of it?”
Jonathan shook his head; disbelief etched across his face.
“Ilie… you created a cure. You literally saved Corey’s life. That’s insane. You’re a freakin superhero!”
Rebecca wiped her eyes, smiling through tears.
“She’s going to be in the history books,”
she said softly.
“Just like Grandpa Wilbur.”
That weekend, Remy hosted a small barbecue—nothing flashy. Just family. Just people who mattered.
Jamie, Joy, Marcus, and Jack were ecstatic to see Aunt Vy, LuAnn, and Carolyn again.
“Aunt Vy!”
Marcus yelled the moment he spotted her.
“I swear I’ve missed your cooking more than oxygen.”
“Boy, hush all that hollering! Just make sure you come to Damon this summer…and here.”
Vy shot back, though she was smiling as she handed him a small pan of honey cakes, causing Marcus to feign crying.
LuAnn was halfway through a hotdog when Jack called her name.
“Luie! I heard you’ve been killing it at Sterling‑Tech. You sticking around?”
She swallowed and nodded.
“I am. Mr. Sterling made it official a few days ago.”
Reginald wandered over, waving dismissively.
“None of that ‘Mr.’ nonsense here. We’re family.”
LuAnn laughed, cheeks warming. Sterling‑Tech played a role in her decision—but not all of it.
“Want a beer?”
Alex held one out, smiling. LuAnn hesitated for half a second before taking it, her blush unmistakable. Their spark had been instant, undeniable.
Joy sat beside Ileana, rubbing her back gently.
“I can’t believe you carried all of this alone,”
she whispered.
“I’m so sorry.”
Jamie nodded.
“Yeah… finding out the Thornes were your biological parents? That’s heavy.”
Joy hesitated, eyes glistening.
“Ilie… I know we don’t see you as much as Whit, Rach, and Jonny. But we love you just the same. You know that, right?”
Ileana hugged her tightly, hints of guilt in her eyes.
“I know. And I’m sorry; trust me, that’s not why I didn’t say anything. If I could have, I would have shielded them from it too.”
Carolyn clapped loudly.
“Alright! Enough crying! We’re celebrating today!”
Laughter followed them across the rooftop.
Kelly Levings hugged Ileana fiercely.
“You’ve amazed my husband. He still can’t believe you created the vaccine.”
“Well,”
Cornilious added, raising his beer,
“she’s definitely winning next year.”
Luna smacked his arm.
“That’s what you got out of this?”
Luna turned to Ileana, her eyes rolling in mocked annoyance.
“Sorry Ilie, his mind is one-tracked.”
Remy watched Ileana from across the patio, heart full, face filled with laughter. She had endured what would have broken most people—and still stood smiling.
Maybe Jonathan was right. Maybe she really was a superhero.
Yet one thorn remained. Wyatt was still missing. Weeks had passed. A BOLO was active. And still—nothing.
Where had he gone?
Remy didn’t believe for a second that Wyatt was finished. Men like him didn’t disappear quietly.
No, he was out there in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
As the sun dipped below the skyline, Ileana stepped away from the noise, watching the people she’d chosen—the ones who stayed. For the first time in two lifetimes, she felt complete.
Remy slipped behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
She smiled, leaning into him.
“Just thinking about how lucky I am.”
“Oh yeah?”
he teased.
“Yeah. Most people don’t get to choose their families,”
she said softly.
“I did.”
Remy looked around—the laughter, the warmth, the belonging.
“And you chose well.”
She laughed, turning into his arms.
“Well…I did have two life-tries to get it right.”
Remy’s eyes slightly darkened at the thought of Ileana’s past life. He kissed her gently.
“Ewww! Break it up!”
Cornilious yelled, earning groans and laughter.
“Why did you invite him?”
Remy muttered.
Ileana giggled.
“Because ‘you’ chose him as your best friend.”
Remy sighed.
“I really need to make better choices.”
The rooftop erupted in laughter as the night carried on—warm, imperfect, and finally at peace.
\------
CLICK.
The flash flared, briefly lighting the empty rooftop across from Remy’s penthouse.
Another click followed. Then another.
The man adjusted his lens, steady hands moving out of habit rather than care. From this distance, the glass walls of the penthouse reflected the city lights like a mirror—beautiful, exposed.
Through the zoom, Ileana came into focus.
Ileana talking with friends.
Ileana laughing.
Ileana eating.
Ileana dancing, singing under her breath.
Ileana smiling.
Always smiling.
His client had been clear from the start: Get as many photos as possible.
The PI had followed her for months without being noticed. At first, it had been easy—too easy. That changed the moment Remington Sinclair put a security detail on her. And when she moved into Sinclair’s penthouse, the job should’ve ended altogether.
“I’m just saying, sir,”
he’d warned over the phone.
“She’s living with Remington Sinclair now. That’s—”
The voice on the other end hadn’t let him finish.
Didn’t matter, apparently. She could’ve been living with the imperial family themselves and the man would still want his pictures.
The PI had dealt with obsessive clients before. Stalkers. People with unhealthy fixations they insisted on calling interest. They made his skin crawl. Still, their money cleared just like everyone else’s. As long as they didn’t ask him to cross certain lines—too many lines—he took the jobs.
But even he had to admit this one was different.
The client didn’t want scandal shots. Didn’t care about secrets or leverage. He wanted moments. Happiness. The kind of photos people framed. Stared at. Talked to.
Always the same ones.
The smiling ones.
“Well,”
the PI muttered, lowering the camera,
“this should be good enough.”
He slipped the strap over his shoulder and pulled out his phone.
“Yeah,”
he said quietly.
“I’ve got the pictures.”
A low voice responded. The PI listened, nodding once.
“Alright. I’ll get them developed and sent—”
He paused.
Brows knitting, he glanced up slightly.
“Oh. I didn’t realize you were there. Uh… okay. I’ll bring them myself.”
The call ended.
A few hours later, he stood in front of a sleek high-rise, pressing the intercom.
“Come up.”
The door buzzed open. He rode the elevator in silence, unease settling heavier with each floor. Inside the loft, the air was still. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city—her building visible in the distance.
“Here you go,”
the PI said, placing the envelope on the table.
“Multiple copies.”
The man didn’t turn around.
“Put them there,”
he said flatly.
“Your payment’s beside it.”
The PI picked up the envelope, thumbed its weight, and forced a polite smile.
“Pleasure doing business, Mr. Vega.”
Using one of his aliases, Wyatt Matthews-Veis didn’t respond. He stood at the window, unmoving, eyes fixed on the glowing penthouse across the street.
The PI hesitated, then glanced once more in the same direction.
'I wonder if she knows,'
he thought,
'that he lives right across from her now.'