“No, I—”
“I’m not in the mood to argue today,” I say, cutting across whatever he was going to say. “And I give zero fucks how this impacts you. That bitch of a costar or that bitch of a PR person or that bitch of an agent orchestrated this whole situation, and I’m done pandering to all of you. I am done being the punching bag.” My lower lip wobbles, and my voice quakes as all the emotion I’ve been fighting resurfaces. “I am done coming last all the time.” I exhale heavily. “I am just fucking done,” I shout. “Do you hear me? I’m done, Reeve. Fuck you. Fuck Saffron. Fuck Cassidy, and fuck Bianca. Fuck you all.” Tears spill down my cheeks, and I’m openly crying now. “Don’t call me again,” I say before hanging up.
“Oh, Vivien.” Mom rushes into my bedroom, and I fall apart in her arms. “I’m so sorry, honey. Shush. It’s okay. You’re okay.” She presses kisses into my hair, while rubbing my back. “We’re here, and we’re going to make it all go away. I have people working on getting the photos and the video removed. Your father is talking with Douglas Simmonds about security for you on campus, and he called in a favor with the LAPD, and all the paparazzi have been cleared from the front of your apartment building.”
“Thank you,” I sob against her chest. I’m so grateful she is here and my parents are stepping in to help because I badly need it.
“Maybe you should come home for a while.”
I shake my head, brushing the tears off my face. “No. I’m done hiding myself away. I’ve done nothing wrong, except get drunk and trust the wrong person.”
“You were clearly set up.” Her jaw pulls tight. “And I’m going to find proof and hang them out to dry.”
“We already know who it is, Mom, and I doubt they left tracks. Let it go. I just want to get on with my life and put it behind me.”
Mom and Audrey trade a worried look. Mom kisses my temple, while holding me close. “At least come home for the weekend. Let us look after you, and if you want to come back to campus next week, we won’t stop you.”
I take Mom’s advice and return home with them. I end up staying for the weekend and the following week, letting my parents fuss over me while I try to pick up the shattered pieces of my life. Reeve has been regularly calling my cell and the house, but Mom told him, in no uncertain terms, that I need space, putting a halt to all communication.
I insist on returning to UCLA on Sunday night. I have exams approaching, and I meant what I said about not letting anyone force me into hiding. I’ve taken some time out to begin the healing process, even meeting with a therapist, and now it’s time to resume my life.
I know I’ll be under a spotlight when I return to campus, and I’m not looking forward to it. I’m sure I’m the butt of many jokes—the pitiful ex-girlfriend crying over the movie star who has moved on—but it will die down in time. Especially now the recording and photos have been removed from the internet. I don’t know exactly what my parents have done, but whatever it is has ensured there is no more press coverage of me. Mom’s IT contact was able to confirm the origin of the recording, and there’s a warrant out for Danny’s arrest because it’s illegal to record and share a private conversation without consent in California.
No wonder he fled. He must’ve known this would happen. Which begs the question—Why did he do it? I know he was at UCLA on a scholarship and his family isn’t wealthy, so I can only guess that he needed money badly. Why else would you throw away your future?
I exchange heated words with my father when he tries to force a full-time bodyguard on me before I leave for my apartment on Sunday night. I know my parents are worried sick because of the hatred and bullying online. Tons of abusive letters and a few death threats have been sent, but Mom intercepted my mail, and her assistant, Moira, has been going through it, sending anything suspicious or concerning directly to the police. “Dad, I know you mean well, but I’m not returning to campus with a bodyguard shadowing my every move. This is already going to be hard enough without drawing extra attention to myself.”
“Your safety is our only concern, Vivien.”
“Didn’t you say campus security has tightened procedures and they’ll be keeping a closer watch on me?” Dad is an alumnus, and he’s close friends with Douglas Simmonds, the current UCLA president. Dad went straight to him the day all the shit went down, and I know these new security measures are because of his timely intervention. Normally, I hate using my parents’ connections to my advantage. But on this occasion, I’m not complaining.