Amanda straightens in her chair, all business. "Let's talk about diaries later. Right now, we need to deal with Jessica's little performance on Channel 7."
I sink deeper into the couch, my spine curving under the weight of it all. "You saw that?"
"I think the whole world saw it." Alisha's knuckles whiten around her wine glass. "Poor, gracious Jessica." Her lip curls in disgust. "I nearly threw my phone at the TV."
"She played it perfectly." The wine burns my throat as I take a long sip, trying to wash away the bitterness. "Makes me look like the villain."
Amanda leans forward in her reading chair, her expression calculating. "That's why we need to be smart about this. No responding to provocations, no public statements—"
"How did your conversation with Ares go this morning?" Emma's gentle question cuts through Amanda's strategic planning. "Before all this media circus started?"
The half-eaten cookie turns to ash in my mouth. I set it down with shaking fingers, my stomach clenching as images flash through my mind—Ares's face contorting in pain, his massive frame crumpling like a fallen giant.
"I told him everything." The words scrape out, barely above a whisper. My fingers twist in my lap as I force myself to continue. "About his mother framing me, about how his parents destroyed Gran's life, led to her..." My throat closes around the words. "He didn't take it well."
"What, did he throw a Saint-sized tantrum?" Alisha scoffs, her bracelets jangling as she gestures dismissively. "Poor little rich boy finding out mommy's not perfect?"
"He had a migraine attack." Heat floods my face as I snap the words out. My hands clench into fists in my lap.
Amanda sets her wine down, leaning forward until her elbows rest on her knees. "What did you do?"
A flush creeps up my neck, spreading across my cheeks. "I helped him. Got his medication, stayed until the worst passed."
"And then you left?" Alisha's question slices through the air.
My silence stretches like taffy, telling more than words ever could.
"Oh, Bella." Alisha's face softens, but her shoulders remain tense. "I see it already happening. You're getting wrapped up in him again."
"I couldn't just leave him like that!" The words explode from my chest as I surge to my feet. "You weren't there, Alisha. You didn't see—" My voice cracks as the memory hits fresh. "It was horrifying to watch."
"You should have left," she repeats.
"Would you walk away if Cole was in that kind of pain? Even if you were furious with him?"
"Cole would’ve never let his mother accuse me of theft and destroyed my life." Alisha's voice cracks like a whip, though her eyes shine with worry rather than anger.
"What Bella did shows compassion," Emma interjects, her calm voice washing over us like a cool breeze. "Taking care of someone in need, especially someone who hurt you—that takes strength, not weakness."
My eyes meet Emma's understanding gaze, grateful for the lifeline. But Alisha's words echo in my skull, mixing with the memory of Ares's voice this morning, thick with sleep and something that felt dangerously like tenderness.
The sudden buzz of my phone makes us all jump. Ares's name illuminates the screen.
"What the hell?" Alisha launches from the couch, wine sloshing dangerously. "You gave him your number?"
My heart slams against my ribs as I stare at the phone, its glow almost accusatory in the dimming light.
Amanda's chair scrapes against the floor as she leans forward. "When did this happen?"
"At the hotel," I say in a whisper. "After the migraine hit. I might have scribbled it on a note but then I stayed and fell asleep."
"Just like that?" Alisha throws her hands up. "Bella, come on!"
"Let it go to voicemail," Amanda advises, but Emma shakes her head, her fingers gentle on my arm.
"Maybe you should talk to him," Emma says softly, earning shocked looks from both Amanda and Alisha. "What?"
"Think about it. With everything that's happening—the media circus, his mother's and ex-fiancée's machinations—Ares might be the only person who can actually influence how this plays out."
