Instead, I say, “Have the day you deserve.”
And I meanthat with the utmost disrespect.
I manage to hold it together until I exit the shop and make my way a few stores down from the salon before I pull out my phone. My hands are trembling as I search for Julian’s name, my heart stuttering as the headline knocks the wind out of me.
Luxe Lady Nora Whitfield Expecting—And Julian Livingston III Is the Father!
A tidal wave of emotions hits me all at once.
For a beat, I just stare at it, processing the words, the weight of the situation sinking in. My stomach twists with the bitter taste of betrayal. After all the gaslighting, aboutlet me try to win you backandIended it to be with you,he’s back with her.Ifhe ever cut things off. He isn’t just building a life with the woman who tore ours apart.They’re having a baby.
As a text notification from Julian pops up on my screen, everything clicks—this is why Syd took my photo. This is why people are snapping pictures of me walking into buildings. Why I’ve become a blog topic. They want my tearful reaction to Nora’s pregnancy. They want the drama, the trending gossip, the exclusive, scandalous content. They want the shock value of seeing me broken.
Everything is content.
And boom, a quiet shift happens inside me.
Syd was absolutely right. Let them judge. Let them photograph me and fabricate their stories. They’ll find something to write about. They always do.
But I’m going to tell my side, too.
As I open my Notes app and save the article link to myDivorcétante Chronicles Ideasfolder, I realize—maybe,just maybe—that free publicity is perfectly timed.
Chapter Eight
Crowned
Lincoln
I’ve got just over anhour before I meet Cornelia, Hailey, and Ebony at Madison Manor to tour the wedding spaces. So I’m dressed and on the road, giving myself time to settle in before the crew arrives. With any luck, Ebony will show up early, too, so we can chat.
Of course, with all the potential for drama, I’m not surprised that five minutes into my drive, Dom calls in on Bluetooth.
I let out a quiet groan as I answer.
“Big Dom!” I put a little extra bass in my voice, bracing for his antics. Although mentally, I’m kicking myself for carelessly bringing up this meeting on the blacktop in front of him.
The man won’t let up with his “body language doesn’t lie” theory that Ebony’s secretly into me.Yeah, okay.
“Figured you be up and racing to the site…” He snorts. “’Cause,boy, when those nerves hit…” He releases an impressed whistle.
He’s not wrong.
As much as I’mthrilledto hear Cornelia’s latest to-do list, I’m hoping for a few minutes to pull Ebony to the side so I can smooth things over. After our last conversation, something didn’t sit right with me. But that was over two weeks ago. All that awkwardness aside, I’m just wondering if she’s okay—on a human level—because today, the “ear to the streets” guy that Dom is, he sends me a link saying Julian Livingston and Nora Whitfield are expecting, which, to say I’m astounded… The man is a straight clown.
Truly, it’s embarrassing how this wannabe Casanova can’t keep his dick in his pants—couldn’t even when he was married. And now he’s about to be someone’s father?
He’s a joke.
I lay on the gas, like if I just press harder, I’ll make time move faster.
“Yeah, I’m on the way now. I want to get there and get settled,” I say, sidestepping his comment. “Hopefully she’ll have a minute to chat.”
Dom hums his agreement. “Man, when I tell you they beenhoundingEbony for her reaction. Coming at her sideways… It’s just foul.”
Fire blazes in my chest, and I scrape my hand over my beard scruff.
“Pfft. Mm-hmm.” I nod, poking my tongue in my cheek and inhaling a long breath. “Least I can do is make sure she doesn’t feel isolated if Cornelia tries to put her on the spot,” I say, then I remember whom I’m talking to and clarify, “I don’t need to be pursuing her romantically to show empathy.”
