Chapter 8 - THE LIE THAT COULD DESTROY ME
The next morning, the internet exploded.
I woke up to hundreds of messages.
News alerts.
Phone calls.
Rumors.
My name was everywhere.
At first, I thought Diego had exposed himself.
I was wrong.
He had attacked first.
Rachel walked into my room holding her tablet.
“Elena…”
I looked at her face.
“What happened?”
She handed me the screen.
My stomach dropped.
A headline stared back at me.
“WEALTHY HEIRESS ACCUSES HUSBAND AFTER FAILED BUSINESS DEAL.”
Below it were edited photos.
Out-of-context messages.
Fake documents.
And one terrible accusation.
That I had attacked Diego.
I stared in disbelief.
“He’s making me look like the villain.”
Rachel nodded.
“He’s controlling the story.”
My father walked in.
“I knew he would do this.”
I looked at him.
“How?”
“People like Diego don’t admit guilt.”
He took the tablet.
“They rewrite reality.”
Then my phone rang.
The reporter’s name appeared.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man spoke.
“Mrs. Sterling, we need your comment regarding the allegations that you became violent toward your husband.”
I froze.
“What?”
The reporter continued.
“Mr. Diego Alvarez claims he was trying to calm you down during an argument when you became aggressive.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was unbelievable.
“He pushed me under freezing water.”
The reporter became quiet.
“Do you have proof?”
I looked at my father.
At Rachel.
At the security footage.
“Yes.”
The reporter asked:
“Can you provide it?”
Before I answered, Rachel shook her head.
Not yet.
Because she understood something.
Diego wanted the footage released.
He wanted us to react emotionally.
He wanted a public war.
And public wars were dangerous.
Especially when someone had powerful friends.
That afternoon, Rachel discovered something worse.
“The footage has been tampered with.”
My father looked up.
“What?”
“Someone attempted to delete sections.”
“Can they?”
“No.”
She looked nervous.
“But someone tried.”
I stared at the computer.
“Victor?”
Rachel didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
That night, I received another message.
This time from an unknown number.
One sentence.
“Your father’s brother is not your biggest enemy.”
I stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
A photo.
My childhood home.
The house where my mother died.
The caption below said:
“You never knew the truth about your mother.”
My hands started shaking.
Because that was impossible.
My mother’s death had always been explained as an accident.
May you like
But now someone was telling me…
It wasn’t.
