Chapter 350: Truth Was Finally Public

Chapter 350: Truth Was Finally Public
[Theodore]

The notification sound from my phone cut through the silence of my office like a blade. I glanced at the screen to see an official police statement trending across every major news platform. The words blurred together at first, but then the meaning crystallized with brutal clarity: Official investigation confirms the woman in the viral video is not Sarah Sullivan.

I set the phone down with deliberate calm, though my hands trembled with a mixture of relief and self-loathing. After days of that damned video circulating, after watching Sarah endure the scrutiny and speculation, after my own shameful moments of doubt that now felt like acid burning through my chest—the truth was finally public.

My phone buzzed again, and I felt my jaw clench as I read Jason Grant's post sharing the police statement: "The internet is not above the law. Truth deserves to spread more than rumors ever did."

Within minutes, the tide turned completely. Social media filled with apologies, retractions, and angry condemnations of whoever had orchestrated the elaborate hoax. The hashtags that had once torn Sarah down now defended her with fierce loyalty. It was swift, decisive, and exactly what she had needed.

And Jason Grant had made it happen.

The bitter taste of that realization settled in my mouth like poison as James knocked and entered my office. His expression was carefully neutral, which usually meant he had news that would twist the knife already lodged in my chest.

"Alex went to see Sarah Sullivan," he said without preamble, his voice gentle in that way that made my failure even more apparent. "He's apologizing to her right now."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I leaned back in my chair, feeling something cold and dark spread through my ribcage. "Alex went to apologize."

"Yes, sir."

"And where was I when Sarah needed someone to defend her?" The question came out strangled, harsh with self-recrimination. My throat felt raw, as if I'd been screaming.

James shifted uncomfortably. "You've been dealing with the investigation, the board meetings about the leaked data—"

"That's not what I'm asking." I stood abruptly, my chair rolling back with enough force to hit the wall. Moving to the floor-to-ceiling windows, I pressed my palm against the cold glass, needing something solid to ground me. "Jason Grant managed to find time to support her. He took her daughter on national television and cleared Sarah's name with the kind of unwavering faith that should have come from me. Meanwhile, I've been hiding behind corporate protocols and board meetings like a fucking coward."

The profanity felt bitter on my tongue, but it was nothing compared to the self-hatred coursing through my veins.

James remained silent, which was answer enough.

"I questioned her," I continued, my voice dropping to something hollow and broken. "When she needed me to believe in her without hesitation, I demanded evidence. I acted like a CEO evaluating a business proposal instead of a man protecting the woman he..." I couldn't finish the sentence. The words felt too raw, too honest for this sterile office.

"Sir, perhaps you should go speak with her directly."

I was already reaching for my jacket, my movements sharp with desperate urgency.

The drive to Sarah's home felt like driving toward my own execution. Every red light, every turn, every mile gave me too much time to replay every interaction we'd had since that video surfaced. The memories were like shards of glass cutting through my chest. I'd been cautious when she needed certainty. Professional when she needed personal support. I'd let my own complicated feelings and the demands of corporate damage control take precedence over simply standing by the woman carrying my child.

Jason Grant had done what I should have done—he'd protected her without hesitation, without doubt, without the cold calculation that seemed to govern every decision I made.

When I arrived at the Sullivan estate, the sight of the warmly lit windows felt like a punch to the gut. Several figures moved about inside the living room, and I recognized Sarah's silhouette immediately—the gentle curve of her pregnancy, the way she held herself with that unconscious grace that never failed to stop my breath.

She was speaking with someone—a man I realized must be Alex. Even from this distance, I could read his body language: apologetic, remorseful, seeking forgiveness.

I parked at a distance, my hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles went white. I couldn't interrupt this moment, couldn't intrude on her vindication, but leaving felt impossible. So I sat there like some pathetic voyeur, watching through the windows as Alex gestured apologetically, his entire posture broadcasting the kind of genuine remorse I should have offered weeks ago.

Sarah stood with her arms crossed, her pregnancy now quite visible even from this distance. The sight of her—strong, beautiful, carrying my child while I sat outside in the dark like an exile—made something crack inside my chest.

Liv was there too, her body language protective and hostile toward Alex, defending Sarah with the fierce loyalty of a true friend. Even from the car, I could see the warmth in that room, the sense of community and support that surrounded Sarah while I remained on the outside, isolated by my own failures.

My phone rang twenty minutes later as Alex emerged from the house, his shoulders less tense than when he'd arrived. At least someone had found absolution tonight.

"Theodore?" Alex's voice was subdued, careful. "I know you're probably wondering about my visit to Sarah."

"How is she?" The question came out rougher than I intended, thick with emotions I couldn't name.

"Angry. Mostly at you." He paused, and I heard his car door slam with finality. "Look, I know I have no right to give you advice after what I put her through, but don't go over there tonight. Liv and Jason are both there. They're celebrating, having a good time. Your presence would just... complicate things."

The words hit me like ice water. "I'm already here."

A sharp intake of breath. "Theodore—"

"You said something earlier, Alex. About being afraid to face things. The more afraid we are of confronting something, the more essential it becomes that we do exactly that." My voice was steady, but my heart was hammering against my ribs like a caged animal.

"She doesn't want to see you right now."

"That's precisely why I need to be here."