~Aria's POV
My father's face hardened, the last trace of uncertainty slipping away. "Enough," he said sharply. "I won't listen to you disrespect my wife like this."
The hope inside me collapsed in on itself.
Bethany lowered her gaze, lips trembling. "I never wanted it to come to this," she murmured. "But I can't let Wendy be destroyed. Not when she's telling the truth."
My father turned back to me, pain etched deep into his face. "I wanted to believe you," he said quietly. "God knows I did. But you've made it impossible."
The words hit harder than the slap ever could.
"I can't do this anymore, Aria," he said quietly. "I won't be dragged into your chaos."
A hollow laugh tore out of me. "So you believe them?" I asked. "After everything I've done? After all I've built? Who are you supposed to trust? This witch and her…"
The slap came fast.
It was sharp, loud, and final.
My head snapped to the side, my cheek burning, my ears ringing. For a moment, everything went fuzzy, like the world had tilted off its axis.
"Don't you ever," he said, his voice shaking with anger, "address my wife like that."
Silence swallowed the room.
I lifted my hand slowly, touching my cheek, stunned. Not just by the pain. But the truth settled deep in my bones.
He had chosen.
And it wasn't me.
I looked at him one last time. Really looked. And whatever hope I'd been clinging to drained away.
"I hope," I said quietly, my voice steady despite the tears, "that one day you realize what you just did."
No one stopped me as I turned and walked out. The door closed behind me, soft and final, and for the first time, I understood something with absolute clarity.
I walked out without looking back.
The front door closed behind me, but the sound stayed lodged in my chest, heavy and final. I made it to my car on instinct alone, my hands shaking as I unlocked it and slid into the driver's seat. Once the door shut, the world went quiet. Too quiet.
I didn't start the engine.
I just sat there, staring at the steering wheel, my breath coming in shallow bursts. My father's face replayed in my mind. The way he'd hesitated. The way he'd looked at me like he almost remembered who I was. And then the moment he chose them anyway.
Over me.
A sound tore out of my throat, halfway between a sob and a laugh. I pressed my forehead against the wheel, my shoulders shaking as the tears finally spilled. I cried for the girl who'd trusted him. For the woman who'd worked herself raw chasing a dream. For the realization that no matter what I did, it would never be enough for him to stand by me.
My phone started buzzing.
Once. Twice. Again.
I ignored it at first, but it wouldn't stop. The vibration felt like a pulse against my thigh, insistent, cruel. Finally, I grabbed it with trembling fingers.
Notifications flooded the screen.
Headlines. Comments. Mentions.
Plagiarist. Fraud. Exposed.
Strangers were tearing me apart with a confidence that only ignorance could give. People who'd never heard my name before today were suddenly experts, dissecting my character, deciding who I was and what I'd done. To them, I wasn't a person. I was a headline.
A thief.
A liar.
A disgrace.
My name was dragged through corners of the internet I didn't even know existed. Threads, comments, think pieces, all built on a story that wasn't mine.
Then the calls started coming in.
Bookshops, small indie stores, and event organizers. People who had shown interest just days ago, who'd said things like we'd love to stock your debut or let's talk launch plans. Now their voices were careful, measured, like they were handling something fragile and dangerous.
"We need to talk, Aria."
"There are… concerns."
"Until this is cleared up, we'll have to pause."
I ended the calls one by one, my hands growing numb. What was I supposed to say? I had nothing. No proof. No ally. Not even my own father believed me.
I eventually started the car, though I couldn't remember deciding to. The drive home passed in a blur of red lights and wet eyes. I parked, went inside, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed onto my bed fully dressed.
The room smelled faintly of paper and ink. Familiar. Safe. Or it used to be.
I stared at the ceiling, my mind drifting through memories I hadn't invited. Late nights hunched over my laptop, fingers aching, eyes burning. Cups of cold coffee forgotten on the desk. Scenes rewritten over and over until they felt right. Until they felt true.
Every book had cost me something. Sleep. Relationships. Pieces of myself I never got back. I remembered the nights when the world went quiet, and it was just me and a blinking cursor, my eyes burning, my back aching, my mind refusing to rest until the words felt right. I remembered turning down invitations, letting calls go unanswered, choosing stories over people because I believed it would all be worth it in the end.
And now, just like that, it was all being erased.
I rolled onto my side, clutching a pillow to my chest as another wave of tears came, slow and heavy this time. I thought about how badly I'd wanted this life. Not fame exactly, but validation. Proof that the lonely girl with too many thoughts and not enough love had turned her pain into something meaningful. Something beautiful.
Now my name felt like a stain. Something people whispered about, something to be scrubbed away. And the thought that it might never be clean again hurt more than I was ready to admit.
I reached for my phone again, even though I knew I shouldn't. Some part of me hoped, stupidly, that things might have shifted in the last few minutes. That someone, somewhere, had asked the right question. That the truth had slipped through the cracks.
It hadn't.
The screen glowed cruelly in the dim room, filled with strangers who suddenly knew everything about me. People tearing apart my work, my character, my entire existence, without ever hearing my voice.
"Talentless fraud."
I scrolled until my chest hurt. Until my hands were shaking too badly to hold the phone steady. No one wanted an explanation. No one cared about context or history or truth. They wanted a villain, and I was convenient.
I dropped the phone onto the bed as if it had burned me.
The sob that came out of me was ugly and loud, ripping through my chest without warning. I curled into myself, clutching the sheets, crying the way I hadn't cried since I was a child. It was deep and helpless. The kind of crying that leaves you hollow.
My body eventually gave in before my mind did. Tears soaked into the pillow, my breathing slowing as exhaustion dragged me under. Sleep came heavy and unwanted, pulling me into darkness with unanswered questions and a name the world had already decided to ruin.