Chapter 81 In a state of dilemma
Vivienne's Pov
Monica was quiet for a second. "What exactly did you say? Word for word."
I repeated the brief conversation as best I could remember.
"Okay," Monica said. "It's not ideal but it's not a disaster. 'That's not true' is pretty vague. He can't really use that as a substantive quote. But Vivienne, you cannot talk to any reporters.
At all. If anyone calls, you say 'no comment' and hang up immediately. Don't engage. Don't defend yourself. Don't try to explain. Just no comment. Can you do that?"
"Yes," I said. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
"It's okay. You're stressed and overwhelmed. But from now on, all media inquiries go through me. Give them my number if they call again. Understood?"
"Understood."
After we hung up, I sat there holding my phone, my soup forgotten and getting cold on the coffee table.
"The media is calling now," I said to Sarah. "This is really happening. My life is becoming a news story."
"Just ignore them," Sarah said. "They'll get bored eventually and move on to the next scandal."
But I wasn't sure about that. A messy divorce involving a wealthy CEO, allegations of fraud, a pregnancy with him who just got engaged to someone else? That was tabloid gold. They weren't going to get bored with this anytime soon.
My phone buzzed with a text. Another unknown number.
"Mrs. Moreau, this is Lisa Chen from Celebrity Watch. We'd love to feature your story. We're willing to pay for an exclusive interview. Please call me to discuss."
I showed it to Sarah.
"They're offering money now," I said. "They're actually offering to pay me to talk about my private life."
"Don't do it," Sarah said immediately. "No matter how much they offer. It'll just make everything worse."
She was right. But part of me was tempted. Money was money and I desperately needed it. How much would they pay? Enough to get my own apartment? Enough to afford good prenatal care? Enough to stop worrying about every dollar?
But no. Monica had said no media. And selling my story to a tabloid would destroy any credibility I had left in the divorce proceedings.
I blocked the number and deleted the message.
More texts came throughout the evening. Different reporters. Different publications. All wanting my story. All offering money or "a chance to share my truth" or "set the record straight."
I blocked them all.
By nine o'clock I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open. The emotional toll of the day had caught up with me completely.
"Go to sleep," Sarah said. "Tomorrow will be better."
I wanted to believe her. But I wasn't sure tomorrow would be better. Or the day after that. Or any day in the foreseeable future.
I brushed my teeth and changed into pajamas and lay down on the pull-out couch. My hand drifted to my stomach again. This was becoming a habit.
An unconscious gesture of touching the place where a baby was growing.
A baby I still hadn't decided what to do about.
I fell asleep thinking about choices and consequences and paths not taken.
I woke up at three in the morning to the sound of my phone ringing.
I fumbled for it in the darkness, squinting at the bright screen.
International number.
Monaco.
My heart started pounding.
Raphael.
It had to be Raphael.
I stared at the phone, my finger hovering over the answer button. Part of me wanted to answer. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted him to somehow explain everything and make it all make sense.
But the bigger part of me, the part that was tired of being used and discarded, let it go to voicemail.
A minute later, a voicemail notification appeared.
I listened to it with shaking hands.
"Vivienne." Raphael's voice, smooth and French-accented, exactly as I remembered. "I saw the articles. The tabloid stories about us. I wanted to call and explain. It's not what it looks like. Sherlyn, the engagement, it's complicated. Business, not personal. I need to talk to you. Please call me back. We should discuss this properly."
I listened to it three times.
It's complicated. Business, not personal.
Just like our marriage together had been business, not personal. Just like I had been a useful connection, not a real relationship.
Everything with this man was business. Everything was calculated and strategic and designed to benefit them.
I deleted the voicemail.
Then I blocked Raphael's number too.
I lay back down but couldn't fall asleep again. My mind was racing. Raphael had called. Had actually called me. After seeing the tabloid stories. After his engagement announcement.
Why? What did he want? To explain? To justify himself? To make sure I wasn't going to cause problems for his new strategic alliance?
I pulled out my laptop and opened it in the darkness, the blue light harsh on my eyes.
I searched for more information about the engagement of Sherlyn Voss.
Sherlyn Voss, someone I once looked up to as a sister.