Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 135517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“What the hell is this?” I screamed at the head of my PR team as I paced the floor. This was the last thing I needed with everything else that was going on right now. Ryder has been locked away in his suite for the past twenty-four hours, and no one could get by his guard dogs to take so much as a peep at him.
My dad’s house was in foreclosure thanks to this MengeLiNi person who wasn’t satisfied with doing it behind the scenes but had broadcasted the embarrassing event on social media for all the world to see, and now all the idiots were coming up with one conspiracy theory after the next.
There was no help coming from Mary, Scott, or even Matt because they were all dealing with their own issues. It seemed like everyone had been attacked at the same time in some sort of organized blitz attack, and as soon as we put out one fire, another was burning out of control, and Ryder was nowhere to be found when I needed him.
Come to think of it, it’s not like he needed that deal with the Saunders group anyway; he had plenty of money and fame already. He just needed to be here with me. I was slowly going out of my mind already, and now this latest post was going to send me over the edge.
I’m not sure who was giving out personal information; it could be Mary trying to take the heat off herself. My team had barely played down the leaked photos of me and the bodyguard, only for this news to be exposed weeks later. What are people going to think? Obviously, where there’s smoke, there’s fire will be their first conclusion.
“We’re already handling it, but you’ve got to calm down.” I could almost hear the censure in her tone, and it rubbed me the wrong way. I know she wanted to blast me for starting the attacks on that bitch Elena, which seems to have been the catalyst for all this, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear it.
I have very few pleasures in the world as it is, so if I get my kicks by rubbing shit in her face, so what. Nobody seems to understand my plight. Everyone is always on her side, even my own husband, so how the hell am I supposed to react?
If she wants to blame someone, she should blame him; if he had shown me even an ounce of what he’d shared with her, I wouldn’t be this miserable. I would’ve been happy enough in our marriage to forget she even existed, but instead, he’d mooned over her from afar and never did much to hide the fact from me.
I’m only human, after all, and a woman at that, and even though he’d been tricked and I’d had a hand in out maneuvering him to the altar, I did it out of love; why is that not okay for me to do? Why couldn’t the world accept us, accept me as the one who was more suitable to be by his side? And why was everything I’d worked so hard for coming undone?
For years I was in control; everything was going my way. I don’t even remember when it all started to go left. I vaguely recall that it had something to do with Mary and her bitch daughters, who I hate more and more each day.
Ever since things started going downhill, they have been trying to distance themselves from me in public, but they forget that I know some not-so-very nice things about them, so if they think they’re going to leave me holding the bag on this, they’ve got another thing coming.
I was so flustered I hung up the phone in the middle of our conversation. My only worry was whether or not Ryder had seen this latest scandal. It was only lately that I’d lost complete control of his social media to the point that he’d changed his passwords on everything, and I couldn’t even guess what they were any longer.
That’s a good thing; I suppose since the old ones had been her birthday or something to do with their time together. It had galled me to no end each time I had to use it, but the pleasure of using his platforms to drag her more than made up for it. Making the world think that he hated her that much had given me hours of pleasure.
But now he’d found some of what I’d done, not all, thankfully not even the worst of it, but it was enough to make him change everything. Why would he do that if he didn’t still care? Not that I didn’t know that, but it was like a slap in the face for him to make it so obvious.