After the Livestream Betrayal, I Chose My Stepbrother

"Where is the article?" I asked, staring at the blank television mounted on the hospital wall.

"There is no article," Damien replied.

"The paparazzi took a hundred photos of me bleeding in that alley last night. I saw the flashes."

"Gone." Damien crossed his arms over his chest. "Every single agency signed an NDA overnight."

"That makes no sense. A miscarriage scandal involving Frost Media is worth millions."

"It is. And Ryan's team paid it." Damien stepped closer to my bed. "They bought the silence."

I pressed a hand flat against my empty stomach. The physical pain was a dull ache, but the rage burned hot, scorching my throat.

"He erased my baby," I whispered.

"He did worse." Damien tossed his tablet onto my lap. "Press play."

I tapped the glass screen.

Ryan sat in a dimly lit room, wearing a plain gray t-shirt. No makeup. Unstyled hair. He looked exhausted, vulnerable, and perfectly rehearsed.

"I didn't want to speak out," Ryan's recorded voice played, cracking perfectly on the last syllable. "But I can't live in fear anymore."

"What is this?" I asked.

"His morning livestream. Five million concurrent viewers."

Ryan looked directly into the camera. "When you sign with a powerful family, you think you're getting a dream opportunity. You don't realize you're signing away your bodily autonomy. I wanted to be an actor. I just wanted to share my art. But Olivia Frost made it clear. If I didn't belong to her, I wouldn't belong in this industry."

He wiped a single tear from his cheek.

"She isolated me from my friends," Ryan continued. "She tracked my location. And when I finally tried to leave last night, she threatened to destroy my life."

A dry, hollow laugh scraped its way up my throat.

Damien frowned. "You think this is funny?"

"I think he's a fantastic actor," I noted, my tone dead flat. "He deserves an award for that tear alone. Did he use glycerin or onions?"

"Take this seriously, Liv." Damien snatched the tablet back. "He’s framing you as an abuser. The public loves to tear down a wealthy woman."

"Look at the trending list below the video."

I glanced down. A bold hashtag dominated the screen.

*#CapitalistHeiressHiddenRulesTopStar*

"Number one across all platforms," Damien stated.

I scrolled through the live chat replay. The vitriol moved so fast it blurred.

*Burn in hell, Olivia.*

*Frost Media is a human trafficking ring. Save Ryan!*

*She deserves to get hit by a truck.*

*Boycott Frost Media! Lock that bitch up!*

"They think I forced him into my bed." I shoved the tablet away. It slid across the thin hospital blankets.

"Your personal accounts are flooded with death threats. I had the security team lock down your estate." Damien ran a hand through his hair. "I've been pulling posts since 2 a.m. I hired three external crisis firms to scrub the comments."

"Did it work?"

"No. It’s a hydra. Cut off one post, three more pop up."

"We own half the media outlets in this city," I said, gripping the edge of the mattress. "Shut down the servers if you have to."

"I tried." Damien stopped pacing. "Frost Media's PR department has been working all night. We're getting outbid."

"Outbid? By who? Ryan doesn't have that kind of capital. We froze his accounts at midnight."

"Exactly." Damien pulled his phone from his pocket, bringing up a financial report. "Someone else is funding this smear campaign."

"Show me."

He turned the screen toward me. Rows of data highlighted massive wire transfers to offshore server farms.

"A bot network activated out of nowhere," Damien explained. "Millions of dollars poured into algorithms to keep that hashtag at the top. Real fans don't coordinate this fast. This is a military-grade digital assault."

"Who signed the checks?"

"Nova Entertainment."

The name hit me like a physical blow. "Our biggest competitor."

"They just signed a distribution deal with Ryan's manager under the table." Damien's eyes narrowed. "This isn't just a messy breakup, Liv. This is a corporate takeover."

"They're using my relationship to tank Frost Media's stock."

"Check the market."

I grabbed my own phone from the nightstand. The stock widget flashed bright red. Down twelve percent since the opening bell.

"If the board panics, they'll force a vote of no confidence against me," Damien warned. "We need to counter-attack. Now."

"We need to release a statement," I said. "Something aggressive."

"A denial won't calm the shareholders."

"No neutral statements," I shot back. "Neutral looks like guilt. We go on the offensive."

"We don't have the ammunition yet."

"We manufacture it." I threw the blankets off my legs. The cold hospital air hit my bare skin.

"Get my clothes," I ordered.

"The doctor said you need three days of bed rest."

"My baby is dead, Damien. My reputation is in ashes. I'm not laying in this bed."

He studied my face. He didn't argue. He walked to the small closet and retrieved the spare black dress he'd brought from my house.

"What's the play?" he asked, tossing the garment onto the bed.

"Ryan wants to play the victim of a tyrannical boss?" I stood up. My knees wobbled, but I forced them straight. "Let's give him a real monster to fight. Call a press conference for noon."

"To apologize?"

"To fire him. Publicly."

"The internet will crucify you," Damien warned. "Without proof, you're just proving his point."

"I have proof. The audio recording of him admitting he only stayed with me for the baby."

"Lily Monroe has the recording," Damien corrected. "And she hates you."

"Then we buy her loyalty." I stepped into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. "Everyone has a price."

"Lily doesn't need money."

"Then find out what she does need." I grabbed a rough paper towel, drying my skin. "Find the paparazzi who took the photos in the alley. Nova Entertainment paid for their silence, but they didn't buy their loyalty. Double the payout."

"They signed NDAs."

"NDAs are broken all the time. Offer to cover their legal fees." I threw the towel into the trash bin. "I want the photos of me bleeding out on that concrete plastered on every billboard in the city."

Damien paused in the doorway. "Are you sure? That's your private trauma."

"It was my child." I shoved my feet into my flats. "And Ryan is going to pay for every drop of blood I lost."

Damien nodded once. "I'll make the calls."

My phone buzzed in my hand. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

I swiped to answer. "Speak."

"Olivia Frost?" a woman's voice asked.

"Who is this?"

"Someone who just found out Ryan isn't just playing you." The voice paused, the line crackling with static. "I'm his wife."