Gossip and Fallout
The thing about being a Harper is that your life is never your own. One heated argument with your ex-almost-husband, and suddenly it's front-page news.
I scrolled through my phone, the headlines flashing like neon signs of disaster:
"Heiress Lila Harper Chooses Bad Boy Husband Over Family Legacy!"
"Public Feud Erupts Between Harper Heiress and Billionaire Ex-Fiancé!"
And the cherry on top? A picture of me standing toe-to-toe with Ethan Grey, my jaw clenched and my hands balled into fists like I was ready to knock him out. Jackson would probably frame it.
Oh, and there was another gem: "Jackson Carter: The Man Who Might Bring Down the Harper Dynasty."
I dropped my phone onto the counter, groaning. "This is a nightmare."
From behind me, Jackson's voice drawled, "A nightmare? You wound me, Mrs. Carter. We're officially celebrities. I can't wait for the Lifetime movie."
I turned to find him leaning against the fridge, a piece of toast in his hand and that infuriating smirk on his face. He looked entirely too relaxed, considering the situation.
"Oh, good," I snapped. "You can play yourself, and I'll be the woman tearing her hair out in the background."
"Perfect," he said, popping the last bite of toast into his mouth. "You've already got the role down."
---
The Tabloid Drama
The chaos wasn't limited to headlines. Social media was ablaze with comments, memes, and endless speculation about my "disastrous" love life.
One tweet read: "Lila Harper really married the bad boy just to spite Ethan Grey. Iconic behavior."
Another: "Jackson Carter must have some kind of magic to land an heiress. What's the secret?"
I sighed as I scrolled through the flood of mentions. Jackson, peering over my shoulder, laughed when he saw one particularly awful meme: a photoshopped image of me in a wedding dress running from a burning building labeled "The Harper Empire."
"I'm saving that one," he said, pulling out his phone.
I swatted at him. "How are you finding this funny?"
"Because it's either laugh or cry," he said, still grinning. "And I look terrible when I cry."
---
My phone buzzed with an incoming call, and I braced myself before answering. "Hello, Mother."
"Lila," Margaret snapped, her voice sharper than usual. "Do you have any idea what this is doing to our reputation?!"
"Yes, Mother. I have the internet too."
"This is unacceptable!" she barked. "You need to—"
I hung up before she could finish. It was petty and immature, but it felt amazing.
---
Ethan's Retaliation Intensifies
While I was fending off phone calls and memes, Ethan was busy escalating his campaign of sabotage.
He contacted one of Jackson's former business partners, digging up more dirt to spin to the media.
He leaked even darker allegations to the press, painting Jackson as a reckless liability who had left a trail of destruction in his wake.
The stories were brutal, and the headlines got worse by the hour.
---
Later that day, I received an anonymous email. The message was short but chilling:
"He's going to destroy him, Lila. And he won't stop until you're back under his control."
I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting. There was no doubt who "he" was.
---
A Turning Point
That evening, I found Jackson on the couch, flipping through TV channels. At first glance, he looked as carefree as ever, but there was something in the way he gripped the remote that betrayed him.
"You okay?" I asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.
"Peachy," he said, but his voice lacked its usual teasing edge.
I glanced at the coffee table, where a tabloid lay open with another damning headline: "Lila Harper's Husband: Bad Boy or Bad Idea?"
"You don't deserve this," Jackson said suddenly, his voice quiet. "None of it. Your family, the media… me."
"You don't either," I said before I could stop myself.
He looked at me, something unspoken passing between us.
---
Later, as I was scrolling through my texts, a message popped up from a so-called "friend" I hadn't heard from in months:
"Lila, you know this guy's just using you, right? Cut him loose before he drags you down."
I stared at the screen, anger bubbling in my chest. Without thinking, I typed back:
"He's not perfect, but at least he's honest. Which is more than I can say for most people in my life."
When I hit send, I felt a strange sense of relief. For the first time, I didn't care what people thought.
---
That night, I found myself on the balcony, staring out at the city lights. The air was cool, the hum of traffic below strangely soothing.
Jackson joined me a few moments later, leaning on the railing beside me.
"Tired of the circus yet?" he asked.
"Exhausted," I admitted. "I feel like I'm stuck in a war I didn't sign up for."
"Welcome to my life," he said with a wry smile.
For the first time, he opened up about his own struggles—how people had always judged him, assumed the worst, and discarded him when he didn't live up to their expectations.
"People see what they want to see," he said. "The screw-up. The bad guy. It's easier than giving me the benefit of the doubt."
"Maybe they're wrong," I said softly, surprising even myself.
He turned to me, his expression unreadable. "Maybe."
---
The Charity Invite
The next morning, an invitation arrived for a high-profile charity gala. It was the perfect opportunity to repair my reputation—and, hopefully, Jackson's.
But there was a catch. Ethan was on the guest list, and I had no doubt he was already planning his next move.
---
When I told Jackson about the gala, he looked less than enthusiastic. "You want me to put on a monkey suit and pretend I care about these people? Hard pass."
"This isn't just about you, Jackson," I said, my frustration bubbling over. "It's about us."
The words seemed to catch him off guard, his resistance softening. "Fine," he said finally. "But if anyone asks me to donate, I'm pretending I'm broke."
---
Unbeknownst to us, Ethan was already working behind the scenes, making a deal with one of the event organizers to ensure Jackson would be humiliated in front of the entire guest list.
Meanwhile, Jackson and I prepared for the gala, both unaware of the storm waiting for us.
"Whatever happened at that charity gala, one thing was certain: Ethan Grey wasn't done with us yet."