Chapter Twenty-Five: The Cost of Knowing

There are moments in life when you realize the ground beneath you has been rotting for a long time you just never noticed until it collapses.

That was how I felt standing on the sidewalk, Dominic’s hands still gripping my shoulders, Alex’s voice crackling urgently through Ryan’s phone.

“A data breach just surfaced,” Alex said. “It’s not public yet, but it will be. Medical records. Psychological evaluations. Fabricated, altered, and weaponized.”

The world narrowed.

“I never had a psychological evaluation,” I said, my voice eerily steady.

“You didn’t,” Alex replied. “But someone made one look real. Signed. Timestamped. Authenticated through a compromised system.”

Ryan swore under his breath. “They’re trying to discredit her sanity.”

Dominic’s grip tightened just enough to ground me. “How long before it leaks?”

“Hours,” Alex said. “Maybe less.”

I inhaled slowly, forcing air into my lungs. Panic would help no one. Fear was exactly what Selene wanted.

“She planned this,” I said quietly. “That look she gave me she already knew.”

Dominic nodded grimly. “Which means this meeting wasn’t about negotiation. It was a warning.”

Back at the apartment, the air felt different.

Heavier.

Ryan locked the doors, checked the windows, then checked them again. Alex took over the dining table, screens lighting up one after another like a command center. Dominic stayed near me, silent, watchful.

“What happens if it goes public?” I asked.

Alex didn’t look up. “They’ll question your credibility. Your testimony. Your intentions.”

“And the truth?”

Alex finally met my eyes. “The truth gets louder when it’s backed by evidence. We have some. We need more.”

Ryan leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “We hit back first.”

“No,” Dominic said immediately. “Not recklessly.”

I looked between them. “You’re both right.”

Silence followed.

I stepped forward. “We expose the manipulation, not just the lie. We show intent. Pattern. Obsession.”

Alex’s fingers paused mid-typing. “That would require proving Selene’s psychological fixation.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “Which is hard.”

“But not impossible,” Dominic said slowly.

All eyes turned to him.

“She keeps records,” he continued. “She always has. Notes. Messages. Diaries. She documents her version of reality.”

My stomach twisted. “You know this how?”

His jaw tightened. “Because once, I found them.”

The room held its breath.

“You never told us that,” Ryan said.

Dominic didn’t flinch. “Because until now, they were irrelevant.”

“And now?” I asked.

“They’re motive,” he said. “And proof.”

We didn’t sleep that night.

Alex traced financial trails and server logs. Ryan made calls to people who owed him favors. Dominic paced, memory visibly weighing on him.

At dawn, my sister called again.

“They’re asking questions at work,” she whispered. “About you. About me.”

Guilt stabbed deep. “I’m sorry.”

She exhaled shakily. “Don’t be. I told them the truth. That you’re stronger than any of them.”

Tears burned my eyes. “I don’t want this hurting you.”

“It already has,” she said gently. “But I’d rather be hurt than silent.”

When the call ended, something inside me shifted.

This wasn’t just about me anymore.

By midday, the leak happened.

A low-tier blog published a vague article hinting at “unstable behavior” and “emotional manipulation.” No names yet. Just enough to test the waters.

Ryan slammed his phone onto the table. “They’re baiting us.”

Alex nodded. “If we react emotionally, they escalate.”

Dominic looked at me. “We do this clean.”

I straightened. “We do this honest.”

The press conference was smaller this time.

No grand statements. No dramatic claims.

Just facts.

I stood at the podium alone.

“My name has been used without my consent,” I said calmly. “My mental health questioned without evaluation. Documents altered to serve a narrative that benefits one person.”

Cameras clicked.

“This is not advocacy,” I continued. “It’s abuse.”

The room murmured.

“I am not ashamed of my emotions,” I said. “But I refuse to let them be weaponized.”

I stepped back.

Dominic followed not to speak, but to stand behind me.

Support without ownership.

That mattered.

The response was immediate.

People noticed the discrepancies. Experts weighed in. The tide didn’t turn but it wavered.

That night, Alex found it.

A storage account.

Encrypted.

Personal.

“Jackpot,” he murmured.

Inside were recordings.

Voice memos.

Dates.

Selene’s voice soft, intimate, unhinged.

“She belongs to the story,” Selene whispered in one file. “If I can’t have the ending, no one will.”

My blood ran cold.

Another recording followed.

“She thinks she’s stronger now. That makes the fall better.”

I covered my mouth, nausea rising.

Dominic looked like he’d been punched. “She’s escalating.”

Ryan’s jaw was set. “Then we end this.”

But Selene wasn’t finished.

The next morning, I woke to a message sent from an unknown number.

You should have stayed quiet.

Attached was a photo.

My apartment building.

Taken from across the street.

Time-stamped.

Recent.

Fear finally broke through my calm.

Dominic saw my face and knew instantly. “What is it?”

“She knows where I live.”

Ryan was already moving. “We relocate. Now.”

I nodded numbly.

As we packed, my phone buzzed again.

Every truth has a price.

I stared at the screen, heart pounding.

For the first time, I wondered not if I could survive this…

…but what it would cost the people standing beside me.