Raf
It’s like she’s underwater this morning—everything a few beats behind, muffled at the edges. The kitchen stirs around her: Evie muttering at her tangled shoelaces, Luca scrolling in silence. Raf keeps the smile in place, hands in motion—last bite of toast, quick scan of Luca’s school forms, smoothing the knot in Evie’s hair.
At the curb, she gets out and kisses them both goodbye, then watches as they walk away, fighting the urge to follow. To take their hands, to lead them to the door. Her eyes don’t leave them until they’re safely inside. Still, she worries: what the teachers think, what the kids already know, what their parents might’ve said at home.
After the story broke, she barely left the house. It started with TMZ. Then it snowballed—gossip blogs, Page Six, an entire ecosystem of clickbait spun from a few damning photos. Raf’s name shrank into a punchline: the unstable socialite with too much money, too little sense, and one very public mistake.
Her inbox stayed quiet. The moms at school stopped smiling hello. Even the nanny started offering those small, pitying looks, like condolence cards. Only Jennifer Turner hasn’t wavered, always untouched by the noise. Hopefully she’ll have good news today.
Eastbound traffic grinds forward as her phone lights up: Alexander. Again. After the line he crossed, she told herself she’d find someone new. A clean slate. But the thought of starting over, of explaining all of it again, from the first crack to the full collapse, felt impossible. Exhausting. Alexander already knew the shape of it. The whole backstory, each chapter of her life. He told her what she needed to hear. No coddling. Just radical honesty.
Corinne, her astrologer, had reminded her on the phone. “It was one slip,” she said, challenging. “He pushed too far, but he cares about your growth. He sees you.”
Raf didn’t know whether she believed it, but it was easier than confronting the alternative: that she was back at the beginning, alone, with no one left who actually understood what she was up against.
So she told herself she wasn’t giving him a pass. She wasn’t forgetting. She was just… tired. Too tired to start over with a new therapist. And while going back to Alexander didn’t feel like trust, exactly, it felt close enough to survival. Like she was at least moving forward. And for now, that was maybe enough.
By the time she’s at Jennifer’s office, the whole morning feels distant—traffic, school drop-off, even the knot of anxiety she woke up with.
“Good news,” Jennifer declares after the usual small talk. “Ethan’s team agreed to arbitration. We’re officially moving forward.”
“He did?”
“They filed yesterday. You’ve been clear from the start that you didn’t want a public trial. This gives us privacy. Both sides resolve things through a neutral third party. It’s binding, but faster, and most importantly, discreet. Given all the… press you’ve had to weather, this is a win for you, Raf. Keeps the headlines out.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Assuming he plays fair. Which we know he doesn’t.”
“True. But arbitration doesn’t mean compromise. I won’t let him get away with anything.”
For the first time all morning, Raf lets the tension slip out in a quiet breath. “So… who chooses the arbitrator?”
“We both do. Someone with experience in high-asset cases. We’ll get someone solid.”
“It’s strange,” Raf murmurs, eyes flicking toward the window. “Agreeing with Ethan on anything.”
“Well, don’t get used to it,” Jennifer says, closing the file with a soft snap. “Raf, we need to talk about the TMZ leak. I held off, but you need to hear this. Ethan’s team will use it. They’ll spin it as a pattern—emotional instability, poor judgment. Did you know the guy, this Casey, was married?”
“No. I didn’t. I swear. I had no idea. He lied about everything.”
Jennifer pauses. Then, the edge in her tone softens with concern. “If we can trace how those photos got out, who leaked them, it could shift everything. Are you absolutely sure it wasn’t him? The guy with the wife?”
“Casey.”
“You said he’s the only one you sent those selfies to, so he had access. Maybe he turned them over to Ethan. Maybe they were working together.”
“I called him,” Raf says, suppressing a weary laugh. “Screamed at him. Demanded the truth. And I know how it sounds, but… I believe him.”
Jennifer studies her for a beat, a flicker of unease beneath the doubt. “Why?”
“Because why would he team up with Ethan to ruin his own life? Why would Casey expose himself like that? The affair already cost him his marriage.”
“Because,” Jennifer says, the logic bitter in her mouth, “maybe once the affair was public, he had nothing left to lose.”
Raf falters, still bracing. “You think Ethan bought him off?”
“If Ethan’s team was already following you, photographing your movements, they knew exactly how to get to Casey. A desperate man can be bought. Maybe they dangled money. Maybe leverage.”
Raf shakes her head slowly, as if it still doesn’t compute. “He told me he thinks it was his wife. Lili. That she found the photos and gave them to Ethan.”
“That tracks. His wife had the motive. And no legal risk.”
“But why would Lili want her name in that kind of mess? Her face ended up on TMZ too. That day she attacked me. Frankly, none of it makes sense.”
“Sometimes revenge trumps self-preservation,” Jennifer says with clinical detachment.
“So if we find out who did it, then what?”
“If it links back to Ethan?” Jennifer taps the table once, the glint of her diamond-studded nails only sharpening the point. “Especially as part of a custody strategy? That’s huge. Hiring a PI isn’t illegal. But using the press to humiliate or manipulate you? Leaking private photos? It would swing things your way. It won’t undo the damage, but it chips away at the image his team is selling: noble provider, reliable father, man of integrity. This makes him look worse than calculated. It makes him look cruel.”
“He had to be involved. Who else could it be?”
“We’ll find out once we subpoena TMZ. Then we’ll file criminal charges. Revenge porn’s a felony here. And if TMZ ran them without vetting, they’re not untouchable either.”
Jennifer’s expression hardens as she rises, fixing Raf with a stare that borders on maternal, just without the comfort. “And if I can offer some advice? As bad as things have been, they’ll probably get worse. So make sure you’re getting more than just legal help. We’re going to war, Raf.”
“I know. I’m doing all I can.” She nods, her gaze shifting to the phone clutched in her hand. “Mostly thanks to you. You’re a godsend, Jennifer.”
When the meeting’s over, Raf taps his contact. She hates that it’s come to this. That she needs Alexander’s help. But right now, other than Jennifer, there’s no one else. And she’s so fucking tired of pretending she’s fine.
Outside the building, she hesitates on the front steps. Just for a second. Then, she presses call. Listens to the first ring. And waits.