Chapter 19 Betrayed By My Own Friend
Harper's POV,
"Are you telling me… you're planning to attend your ex-boyfriend's wedding to the woman who's currently suing you?" David's eyebrows shot up.
"It sounds insane when you say it like that."
"That's because it IS insane." David leaned back in his chair, removing his glasses to rub his eyes.
"Ms. Sinclair, if you show up at that wedding, opposing counsel will use it as evidence of harassment. They'll paint you as obsessed, unhinged, unable to let go. It will obliterate any sympathy a jury might have for you."
"So I just let them win?" My voice came out sharper than I intended. "I let Joel and Brianna destroy my reputation, take my money, and I do nothing?"
"You survive the lawsuit first. Then you worry about weddings." David's tone was firm. "One crisis at a time."
"We should go," Maya said, standing. "Let David do his job. We'll figure out the rest later."
….
The car ride back to Maya's apartment was silent until we hit a red light on Fourth Avenue. That's when I heard it.
The radio.
Maya had it on low, some morning talk show I wasn't paying attention to, until the host's voice cut through my fog with two words that made my blood freeze.
"Fake relationship."
My head snapped toward the dashboard.
"....I mean, think about it," the female host was saying, her voice dripping with judgment. "How do you even look at yourself in the mirror after pulling something like this? Using someone's addiction struggles as part of your revenge plot?"
"The real victim here is Crew Lawson," the male co-host chimed in. "Guy's in rehab trying to get his life together, and meanwhile his girlfriend—or whatever she is—has been using him as a pawn in some twisted game with her ex."
"Do we even know if he was aware? Like, did he sign up for this knowingly, or did she manipulate him into it?"
"Either way, it's sick. Imagine getting out of rehab and finding out the person you thought loved you was just playing a part."
"Turn it off," I said, my voice barely audible.
Maya reached for the dial but the male host kept going.
"And the wedding invitation details? Chef's kiss of crazy. This woman spent three months pretending to date a guy just so she could show up at her ex's wedding and what… ruin it? Make him jealous? That's not romance, that's a Lifetime movie villain."
Maya turned off the radio and the car fell into heavy silence.
"They're wrong," she said firmly. "They don't know what actually happened between you and Crew."
"Don't they though?" I stared out at the gray Seattle streets. "Because from the outside, it looks exactly like what they're saying. I did use Crew to get to Joel. That part's not a lie."
"But it became real."
"Did it? Or did I just convince myself it did because the alternative made me look like a monster?"
"Harper–"
"What if I actually am the person they're describing?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "What if I'm so messed up from Joel that I don't even know when I'm being manipulative anymore?"
Maya pulled into her parking garage and killed the engine, turning to face me fully. "You want to know how I know you're not a sociopath?"
"How?"
"Because a sociopath wouldn't be sitting here questioning whether they were one." She grabbed my hand. "You're not perfect. You made some questionable choices. But you also fell in love with someone for real, and you fought for him when it mattered. That's not manipulation. That's just being human."
I wanted to believe her. But the voices from the radio kept echoing in my head.
'The real victim here is Crew Lawson.'
….
We took the elevator up in silence.
When Maya unlocked her apartment door, I headed straight for the couch, suddenly exhausted despite it only being mid-morning.
Maya went to her laptop in the kitchen and I heard her typing, then a sharp intake of breath.
"What?" I called out, not sure I wanted to know.
"You need to see this."
"Is it going to make me feel worse?"
"Probably. But you still need to see it."
I dragged myself over to where she stood. Her laptop was open to YouTube, and on the screen was a video with over two million views posted just an hour ago.
The thumbnail showed a photo of me and Crew from the charity gala, with text overlaid:
"FAKE RELATIONSHIP EXPOSED: Body Language Expert Analyzes Harper & Crew"
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.
Maya hit play.
A woman in her forties with perfect hair and a ring light appeared on screen.
"Hi everyone, Dr. Sarah Mitchell here, and today we're breaking down the body language between Harper Sinclair and Crew Lawson to answer the question everyone's asking: was any of it real?"
She pulled up photos from various public appearances. The hockey game. The charity gala. Crew leaving my building.
"Notice here," Dr. Mitchell said, zooming in on a photo from the arena, "the lack of genuine intimacy markers. Their shoulders are angled away from each other. There's visible tension in Harper's jaw. This reads as two people performing closeness rather than experiencing it."
"This is bullshit," Maya said.
But Dr. Mitchell wasn't done. She pulled up the video from the gala, right before Crew collapsed. "Now watch this moment carefully. When Crew begins to show signs of distress, Harper's first instinct isn't to support him… it's to scan the crowd. She's aware of being watched. That's not the response of someone in love. That's the response of someone managing optics."
"I was looking for help!" I shouted at the screen.
"The relationship appears to have been transactional from the start," Dr. Mitchell concluded. "And while I can't speak to Mr. Lawson's awareness or consent, the patterns suggest Ms. Sinclair was the primary architect of this arrangement."
Maya slammed the laptop shut. "That woman has never met you. She's analyzing grainy photos and calling it psychology."
"It doesn't matter if it's real psychology. People will believe it." I moved back to the couch, my legs suddenly unsteady. "They want to believe it because it makes a better story. Manipulative ex-girlfriend uses addict for revenge… that's way more interesting than 'two people fell in love despite complicated circumstances.'"
"So what do we do? Put out a statement? Try to explain?"
"And say what? 'Yes, we started fake but then it got real'? That sounds exactly like what a manipulative person would say."
Before Maya could respond, her apartment buzzer rang. She walked over to the intercom. "Who is it?"
"Marcus Chen. I'm looking for Harper Sinclair."
My head snapped up. Crew's agent.
Maya looked at me, eyebrows raised. I nodded.
She buzzed him up and we waited in tense silence. Marcus took the elevator up and a couple minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Maya opened it to reveal him looking as polished as ever in a charcoal suit despite the early hour.
"Ms. Sinclair." He nodded at me, then at Maya. "Ms. Park. Thank you for seeing me on short notice."
"How did you know I was here?" I asked.
"I make it my business to know where my client's girlfriend is when a media firestorm is destroying both their reputations." He stepped inside when Maya gestured. "May I sit?"
"Depends on why you're here," Maya said, arms crossed.
Marcus sat anyway, setting his briefcase on the coffee table. "I'm here because I know who sold your arrangement to the press."
The air left the room.
"How?" I managed.
"Because they approached me first, offering to sell it for fifty thousand dollars. I refused, obviously—client confidentiality. But I kept a record of the conversation." Marcus opened his briefcase and pulled out a folder. "I thought it might prove useful eventually."
"Who was it?" Maya demanded.
Marcus pulled out a single sheet of paper and slid it across the table toward me. On it was a name, a phone number, and a bank account routing number.
I picked it up and read the name.
For a moment, everything stopped.
"No," I whispered.
"I'm afraid so." Marcus leaned back. "She contacted me two weeks ago, saying she had information that would be 'very interesting to certain parties.' When I refused, she apparently found someone who didn't share my scruples."
I couldn't stop staring at the name written in Marcus's neat handwriting.
Emma Rodriguez.
My college roommate. The person who'd introduced me to Joel at that Boston College party ten years ago. The friend I'd lost touch with after graduation but who'd reached out six months ago when she saw my name in the news, wanting to "reconnect."
The same Emma who'd had coffee with me three weeks ago, who I'd told about the arrangement because I was lonely and needed someone from my old life to talk to.
Someone I'd trusted.
"Harper?" Maya's voice came from very far away. "Who is it?"
I looked up at her, my hands shaking as I held the paper.
"Emma Rodriguez. My old roommate from BC. The one who introduced me to Joel."
"Why would she–" Maya stopped, understanding…. dawning on her face. "Oh shit. Is she still in touch with Joel?"
"I don't know. I haven't talked to her in years until recently." My mind was racing, trying to piece it together. "But I'm guessing she knew, because told her everything about the arrangement. About Joel's wedding. And about wanting to make him jealous."
"And she sold it for fifty grand," Marcus said flatly. "According to my source at TeaSpill, she provided not only the contract but also text messages between you two discussing the arrangement. Full documentation."
I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. "She saved our conversations."
"She planned this," Maya said, her voice tight with fury. "This wasn't opportunistic. She reconnected with you specifically to get information."
"But why? What does she gain from destroying me?"
Marcus pulled out another document from his briefcase. "This is where it gets interesting. Emma Rodriguez recently started a PR consulting firm. Guess who her first major client is?"
He slid the paper across the table.
I read the letterhead and my blood turned to ice.
Cross Communications - Brianna Cross, CEO
"She's working for Brianna," I said numbly.