After His Mistress Went Viral, I Took Everything

The morning light filtered through unfamiliar curtains, momentarily disorienting me as I blinked awake. This wasn't my bedroom at the Foster penthouse. Then yesterday's events crashed over me in waves—my mother's funeral, the viral video of Zach with his newborn son, my public ending of our engagement.

I was in Lucas's guest room. The same Lucas who had wordlessly offered his hand to help me down the church steps after the service, who had quietly asked if I needed a place to stay when Eleanor Foster loudly proclaimed I was no longer welcome in their home.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with notification after notification. With a sense of dread, I reached for it.

"Oh God," I whispered, scrolling through the barrage of alerts.

Zach had been busy overnight. His social media accounts were filled with carefully crafted posts—photos of him looking solemn beside Hailey and their baby, captions expressing "concern" for my "fragile mental state" following my mother's death. Hailey had joined in, sharing tearful videos about how she'd "tried to reach out" to me for months, only to be rebuffed by my "jealousy and bitterness."

The comments were worse. People I'd considered friends were publicly questioning my stability. #PrayForKate was trending—not in support, but as a pitying hashtag for a woman supposedly having a breakdown.

They were rewriting history, painting me as unstable and vengeful, while positioning themselves as the concerned, mature parties.

"They're trying to get ahead of the story," came Lucas's voice from the doorway. He stood there holding a mug of coffee, his expression grim. "I hope you don't mind—I knocked, but you didn't answer."

"They're making me look crazy," I said, my voice hollow.

Lucas crossed the room and sat beside me on the edge of the bed, offering the coffee. "They're scared, Kate. You took back your power yesterday. This is just their desperate attempt to regain control."

I took a sip, the warmth steadying me. "I don't regret it. I just—"

The doorbell rang, cutting me off. Lucas frowned. "I'm not expecting anyone."

A moment later, we heard the unmistakable voice of Eleanor Foster echoing through the penthouse, sharp and demanding.

"Where is she? I know Katherine is here."

Lucas's jaw tightened. "Stay here if you want. You don't have to face her."

But I was already on my feet. "No more hiding."

We found Eleanor in Lucas's living room, imperiously surveying the space as if conducting an inspection. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me, still in my borrowed pajamas, Lucas protectively at my side.

"There you are," she said coldly. "This childish tantrum has gone on long enough, Katherine. You're coming home with me right now."

"This isn't a tantrum, Eleanor," I replied, surprised at how steady my voice sounded. "The engagement is over."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The business implications alone—" She turned to Lucas. "And you. Encouraging this behavior. The Reed family should know better than to interfere in Foster affairs."

Lucas stepped forward, his voice deceptively calm. "Mrs. Foster, Kate is here as my guest, not my prisoner. She's free to leave whenever she chooses. With whomever she chooses."

"Then you're both fools," Eleanor hissed. "The Fosters made the Sullivans relevant again. Without our support, what's left of your family's holdings will collapse within months." She fixed her cold gaze on me. "Your mother would be ashamed of your ingratitude."

Something inside me snapped at the mention of my mother. "Get out," I said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"Get. Out." I stepped closer to her. "You've controlled and humiliated me for five years. No more. My mother would be proud that I finally found the courage to walk away."

Eleanor's face contorted with rage. "You'll regret this. The Fosters will block every remaining Sullivan business deal. Your grandmother will lose everything."

Lucas moved to open the door. "I believe Kate asked you to leave."

After Eleanor stormed out, I collapsed onto the couch, trembling. "She'll do it. She'll ruin what's left of my family's business."

"No, she won't," Lucas said firmly. "Kate, your grandmother called while you were sleeping. She wants to see you at the Sullivan house. Today."

Two hours later, I sat across from my grandmother in my family's study, the room unchanged since my childhood—leather-bound books lining the walls, my grandfather's antique desk dominating the space.

"Eleanor Foster paid me a visit too," Grandma said, her eyes twinkling with something that looked almost like mischief. "Quite the performance."

"I'm so sorry," I began. "I never meant to put our family's business at risk—"

"Hush now," she interrupted, reaching into a drawer. "The Fosters have always overestimated their importance." She slid a folder across the desk. "Open it."

Inside were financial statements, stock certificates, and legal documents I hadn't seen before.

"Your mother and I," Grandma said softly, "we always knew the real value of the Sullivan name. The Fosters may control much, but we still hold the shares that matter."

As I flipped through the pages, understanding dawned. The Sullivan family still held significant power—power I never knew we had.

"It's time you knew exactly what you're fighting for," Grandma said, her eyes gleaming with determination. "And who's standing beside you."