Chapter 7: The Day It Broke

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I can’t keep the phone quiet anymore.

The messages come faster now. Every few hours. New pictures. Closer ones.

One from inside the elevator my back against the wall, Noah’s hand under my shirt, my head tipped back, eyes closed. You can’t see much, but you can tell what’s happening.

Another from the penthouse window blurry, taken from across the street with a long lens. Just shadows, but it’s us on the couch, me straddling him, his hands on my hips.

Each one comes with words that cut deeper.

Whore.

Gold-digger.

He’ll get tired of you soon.

I delete them all, block the numbers, but new ones come.

I stop sleeping.

Noah notices. Of course he does.

“What’s going on, Lila?” he asks one morning over coffee. His voice is gentle, but his eyes are worried.

“Nothing. Just stress.”

He doesn’t believe me. I can tell. But he lets it go.

That afternoon I’m at Grandma’s. She’s in the kitchen making her famous apple pie—the one she hasn’t had energy for in years. The smell fills the whole apartment. She’s singing soft, off-key, dancing a little as she rolls the dough.

I stand in the doorway and watch her, and something inside me cracks wide open.

She’s alive because of me.

Because of what I do.

Because I let him touch me, hold me, love me in ways I never thought I’d let anyone.

And someone out there wants to ruin it.

That night I don’t go to Noah. I text him I’m staying with Grandma.

He replies: Everything okay?

I say yes.

I lie in my old bed, staring at the ceiling, tears running quiet into my hair.

The next day the picture goes public.

I’m at the diner, wiping tables between the lunch rush, when Jess runs up, phone in hand.

“Lila… is this you?”

She shows me the screen.

It’s one of the photos—the elevator one. Posted on some gossip site. The headline screams:

KINGSTON’S NEW TOY: Billionaire Caught With Mystery Cleaner Girl

Below it, hundreds of comments already:

She’s just after his money.

Look at her—desperate.

He’ll dump her in a week.

My knees go weak. I grab the counter.

Jess hugs me. “Who is he? Talk to me.”

I can’t speak.

All I can think is Grandma’s going to see this.

By evening it’s everywhere. News sites pick it up. People at the grocery store stare when I run in for milk. Someone even shouts “gold-digger” from a car window.

I go home and lock the door.

Grandma’s on the couch watching her evening show. She looks up and smiles.

“There’s my girl. Rough day?”

I sit beside her, trying to act normal.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

She pats my knee. “You work too hard.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Another message. This one’s different.

It’s a link to the article.

And below it:

Tell him to pay me, or I send the bedroom ones next.

I feel sick.

Grandma turns the TV down.

“Lila, baby… what’s wrong? You’re white as a sheet.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

She takes the remote, flips channels. Stops on the local news.

My face is on the screen. Grainy photo of me leaving Noah’s building.

The reporter’s voice:

“Sources say the young woman has been seen regularly at Kingston’s penthouse. Questions arise about how a simple office cleaner caught the eye of the city’s most eligible bachelor…”

Grandma goes very still.

She looks at me.

The room feels too small.

“Is that… you?” she asks, voice small.

I nod. Tears spill over before I can stop them.

She reads the headline over the reporter’s shoulder.

Her hand goes to her mouth.

“Oh, baby.”

She doesn’t say anything else.

Just pulls me into her arms while I cry like a child.

I sob into her shoulder, the one that used to be bony but now has weight again—because of him. Because of me. Because I sold nights to save her.

And now everyone knows.

She holds me tight and rocks me like I’m little again.

“I’m sorry,” I keep saying. “I’m so sorry.”

She shushes me softly.

But I feel her tears in my hair too.

And I know nothing will ever be the same.

To be continued…