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They Wrote My Obituary For Clout Novel Cover

They Wrote My Obituary For Clout

My boyfriend and my best friend drafted my obituary before my body was even cold, slipping sedatives into my water and severing my brake lines to stage a fatal crash — all to seize my million-dollar beauty empire. I refused to die on their timetable. Instead, I went live, exposing every lie, every secret, every betrayal to millions of viewers, and watched them get locked up for it. But the murder plot was never the ending. Their unhinged stans tracked me to my secret hideout, and now the real hunt has begun.
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Chapter 3

I ended the call with the LAPD, giving the officer a vague promise to handle the abandoned vehicle in the morning. I shoved my phone into my jacket pocket and flagged down a passing yellow cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Just drive," I said, sliding into the vinyl backseat. "Keep going down Wilshire."

I pulled my phone back out and dialed Julian Farrar. He had handled my initial brand contracts two years ago. The line rang three times before he picked up.

"Lila," Julian answered, his voice thick with sleep. "It's midnight."

"I need a digital forensics team," I said. "Right now."

"Are you being hacked?"

"Worse. My business partners are planning a hostile takeover. I need a cloud drive mirrored and locked down before they can delete the edit history."

"Give me ten minutes to wake up my tech guy, Miller," Julian said, the sleep instantly vanishing from his tone. "What else?"

I unzipped my leather tote and stared at the plastic water bottle. "I have a physical evidence sample. A tampered drink. I need it tested for sedatives."

"Take it to the 24-hour private lab on 4th and Alameda. I'll call ahead and authorize the rush fee. Do not let that bottle out of your sight until you hand it to the tech."

"I won't. Thanks, Julian."

I gave the cab driver the new address. Twenty minutes later, I stood under the harsh fluorescent lights of the testing facility, handing the sealed plastic bottle to a weary technician.

"Chain of custody starts now," the tech said, printing a barcode label. "We'll have a preliminary tox screen by tomorrow afternoon."

"Test for everything," I told him. "Especially anything that causes severe drowsiness, dizziness, or loss of motor function."

"Got it. Sign here."

My phone vibrated against the reception desk.

*Incoming Call: Mia.*

I stared at her smiling contact photo. My chest tightened. I cleared my throat, forcing my jaw to relax, and swiped the green icon.

"Hello?" I answered, keeping my pitch light and sleepy.

"Lila! Oh my god, finally!" Mia practically screamed into the microphone. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Why?"

"You didn't call! Kai and I just got out of the movie. Did you make it home safely? Were you in an accident?"

Her voice trembled perfectly. It was a masterful performance. If I hadn't sat in row H listening to her plan my funeral, I would have believed she was terrified for my safety.

"No accident," I said. "But your SUV is a piece of junk."

Silence stretched over the line. A heavy, suffocating pause.

"What do you mean?" Mia asked. The frantic edge vanished instantly.

"The brakes felt completely spongy the second I pulled out of the loading dock," I lied smoothly. "I didn't even make it to the downhill slope on 4th Street. The car just locked up and died at a red light."

"It died?" Mia repeated, the shock bleeding through her careful control.

"Yeah. I had to leave it parked in a commercial zone. I grabbed a cab and checked into a motel nearby. It was too late to call a tow truck."

Muffled voices filtered through the receiver. Kai was standing right next to her.

"She didn't crash?" Kai whispered in the background. His voice pitched high with panic. "Did she drink the water? If she didn't pass out, the mechanic is going to trace the severed brake line back to me—"

"Shut up," Mia hissed away from the phone.

I leaned against the clinic's reception counter. "Mia? Are you still there? Is Kai with you?"

"I'm here," Mia said, her voice snapping back to that sweet, concerned best-friend tone. "Kai is just worried. We were so scared, Lila. The roads are terrible tonight."

"I know. It was really scary when the brakes stopped working." I injected a slight tremor into my own words. Let her think I was shaken.

"You should have called us," Mia pressed. "We would have picked you up."

"My phone died," I said. "I just charged it at the motel front desk. I'm exhausted, Mia. I'm just going to sleep."

"Wait," Kai's voice cut in. He had snatched the phone from her. "Lila, did you feel sick at all? Before the car broke down?"

He couldn't let it go. He needed to know if his poison had reached my bloodstream.

"Sick?" I asked.

"Yeah. Dizzy? Tired?"

"No, Kai. I told you, I didn't drink that warm water. I feel perfectly fine."

A sharp intake of air hissed through the speaker. Kai was unraveling. The plan required me to be incapacitated behind the wheel. Without the drugs in my system, the damaged car looked like attempted murder, not a tragic medical emergency.

"If the police check the undercarriage, they'll see the cut," Kai stammered, forgetting to cover the receiver.

"Give me the phone," Mia snapped in the background. A brief scuffle echoed over the line.

"Lila, honey, just get some rest," Mia said, regaining total control. "We'll handle the tow truck tomorrow. Text me the address of your motel. I'll come get you in the morning."

"Will do. Goodnight."

"Love you," Mia said.

"Love you too."

I ended the call and walked out of the clinic, climbing back into the waiting cab.

My phone rang again. This time it was an unknown number.

"Lila Monroe?" a man asked.

"Speaking."

"This is Miller. Julian's tech guy. I'm inside the cloud server now."

"Did you find the folder?" I asked.

"I found it. 'Post-Accident Transition Strategy.' I'm mirroring the entire directory to a secure offline drive right now."

"I need the edit history," I told him. "I need proof of exactly who wrote those documents and when."

"Already pulling the metadata," Miller replied, his keyboard clacking rapidly on his end. "I've got the timestamps. I secured the login IP addresses too. We can prove Kai and Mia authored every single word over the last eight weeks."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I'm looking at the memorial content calendar now," Miller said, disgust evident in his tone. "They had scheduled a tribute video for exactly three days from today. Monetization turned all the way up."

"Lock them out," I said. "Don't let them delete it."

"I can't lock them out without tipping them off," Miller warned. "If I change the permissions, they'll get an alert. But it doesn't matter. I have the hard copies saved. Even if they trash the folder tonight, we have the evidence."

"Perfect. Send everything to Julian."

"Done. Stay safe, Lila."

I hung up. I stared out the cab window at the passing streetlights.

Mia was too smart to try the exact same trick twice. The car crash was ruined. The sedative had failed. But she wouldn't stop. She wanted the channel, the sponsors, and the money. And she needed me out of the picture to get them.

My phone buzzed in my lap. An email notification flashed across the screen.

It was a calendar invite from Mia.

*Subject: Emergency Brand Sponsorship Retreat.*

*Location: The cliffside cabin at Big Sur.*

*Date: Tomorrow.*

I read the text twice. She was already pivoting.

*Message from Mia: Hey babe. Since the car is busted and we need to shoot that new promo anyway, I booked us a private cabin for the weekend. Just you, me, and Kai. We'll pick you up at eight.*

I typed my reply.

*Sounds perfect. See you tomorrow.*

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