Evelyn finds her self in a precarious situation when both her neighbors want her. The problem is they are two billionaires- who happen to already be in a relationship with each other. After being burned by a very famous recent celebrity ex, she is skeptical. Work isn't helping, what does one say about an author who is unable to write? When it comes down to it and she falls into their carefully crafted web. Will they fix her or will she drown them?
Chapter 1 1
I woke up to the buzz of my phone, that sickly vibration on the bedside table that immediately told me I should've left it on silent. I reached for it anyway, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and letting reality sink its teeth into me, just like it always did.
Evelyn Grey, romance writer and public disgrace.
The screen was flooded with messages, emails, notifications. Half of them were media requests, the other half an ocean of vitriol from Liam's fans. The first message that caught my eye: You'll never be good enough for him, so why don't you disappear like you always do?
I'd spent my career writing about people who clawed their way to the top and fell in love along the way, but now I was the one falling-just not in the way I'd written. I was being gutted, slowly, like a spectacle for everyone to watch.
Two weeks ago, it was all private. Two weeks ago, I was just Evelyn Grey, who happened to be dating the untouchable Liam Wilde. Now I was the predator, the fan-girl-turned-stalker, and Liam, the poor pop star who'd been "duped." And he hadn't even come to my defense. Not once.
The messages kept coming in, each one like a tiny dagger: Clout-chaser. Stay in your lane. Liam deserves better than some washed-up writer.
Washed up. That one stung, probably because it was the most accurate.
My publicist's number blinked on the screen, and before I could talk myself out of it, I picked up. She didn't wait for me to say hello.
"Evelyn, have you seen the latest?"
Of course I had. But I wasn't about to admit that. "What is it now, Holly?"
"Liam released a statement this morning. He's, uh... well, he's denying everything. Said he 'barely knew you' and that whatever happened between you two was 'a regrettable misunderstanding.'"
A pulse of something hot and bitter surged in my chest, burning its way up my throat. "Of course he did."
She hesitated, her silence suddenly heavy. "Look, Evelyn, it's not great. His fans are already tearing you apart on social media. They're calling you... well, a lot of things."
I knew what they were calling me. I could read.
"So what now?" I asked, keeping my voice steady. "Do I vanish and let him get away with it?"
Holly sighed. "Honestly? That might be the smartest move right now. Lay low. Wait for this to blow over. You don't want to fuel the fire."
I forced a laugh, sharp as glass. "And I suppose 'lay low' also means watching my sales tank and pretending like I don't care about the fallout? That I'm not furious?"
"People will forget eventually. Scandals don't last forever."
Tell that to the last fifteen years of my life, spent carefully constructing a reputation that was now crumbling faster than a house of cards.
After I hung up with Holly, I slumped back against the pillows, willing my mind to quiet down, to find some shred of calm in the middle of this mess. But the more I tried, the louder the noise got-the endless notifications, the comments piling up by the second.
I reached for my laptop and pulled up the headlines, each one more sensational than the last:
Liam Wilde's Secret Lover Revealed!
Author Evelyn Grey: Fan or Fraud?
Pop Star Betrayed by Longtime Admirer!
Each article painted me with the same brush-a desperate woman who'd wormed her way into a celebrity's life, and now, into the headlines. They didn't know the truth. They didn't care to know it. It was easier to picture me as the villain, the crazy woman who'd deluded herself into thinking she was anything more than a passing fling.
I closed the laptop and stared at the ceiling, breathing slowly. I knew I should feel something other than this empty fury. Regret, maybe. Shame. But those were luxuries reserved for people with the time to feel them. Right now, I just needed to survive.
And then, the message came.
It was different than the others, cutting through the barrage with a single notification that somehow felt colder than the rest. I clicked it open, my eyes tracing over each word, slow and deliberate.
Stay away from Liam. I know where you live.
There was no name, no face, just the raw, unfiltered malice of someone who wanted me gone. And for the first time since this started, I felt a prickle of fear-the kind that settled in your bones and made you wonder just how much of yourself you'd be willing to sacrifice to make it stop.
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