Never Been Worse (Evergreen Park #3)

Chapter 37 – Wes

THIRTY-SEVEN

WES

A few months ago, my life felt like it had never been worse. I was fresh out of a relationship I thought I’d be in for forever after finding out about his infidelity. I wasn’t where I hoped I would be in my career, and I was lonely, watching my best friends grow and live their lives. I was terrified that I was being left behind, that my clock was ticking.

I’ve been scared a lot over the past few years—scared to be myself, scared to open up my heart, scared to fall in love, scared to speak up for myself.

Most of those fears, my husband, Wes Holden, has helped me to conquer, something I’ll never be able to fully thank him enough for. But I’m vanquishing the last of these demons by stepping out of my comfort zone.

My name is Harper Abbott, and today I’m announcing the Revenge Line. The line is meant to emulate strong women fighting back in their own ways, starting with Princess Diana’s iconic revenge dress and moving through others, like Tina Turner’s leather cut-out dress, to Reese Witherspoon’s yellow Nina Ricci. The goal is to give its wearer the confidence she needs to take on the world and everyone who ever wronged her. I even added my own revenge dress in the line, the dress I wore to marry Wes, inspiring a modified version for a fun date night out.

I hope you all love it as much as I do and that when it hits stores later this year, you wear it with pride. This is for all the women who want revenge, not for those who have done them wrong, but for themselves. To reclaim what was taken from them in whatever way they feel they need to.

And for me, every good revenge plan starts with a killer outfit.

Whether you’re looking for a killer revenge dress, a hit of confidence, or something to help you with day one of your happily ever after, the Revenge Line is for you.

I am so grateful for the life I have made and been blessed with. For a husband who has never faltered in his belief in me and who encourages me to fight for what I deserve. For friends who lift me up when I’m at my lowest. Having people on your side is more valuable than anything.

Thank you for coming with me on this journey. I can’t wait to see where we go next together.

I read the caption for Harper’s post for the third time, pride flowing through me at the amount of bravery and patience and restraint she showed with it.

It’s perfect.

It sets aside any concerns of a divorce—thank God, because she’s not spending another night out of our bed—and promotes herself without once bringing up her past or breaking the contract she agreed to. After long talks with the lawyers we hired, we decided that it would be best to, at least for the time being, honor the contract Harper signed under duress. We don’t want to give Jeremy any kind of upper hand, though I argued he would probably have bigger things to worry about by the end of the day.

I’m glad Harper isn’t here to watch me wipe a tear from my eyes as I read her post again, because she would never let me live it down. Especially when that lump in my throat grows as I scroll through the photos she and Leo carefully picked for this post, all evidence of her talent, her new line, and the work she’s doing with Willa. It took more effort than anticipated to explain to her that Willa's interest in her work had absolutely nothing to do with my friendship with her.

I wasn’t lying.

A talent like Willa Stone can see a kindred soul from a mile away, and she saw Harper and wanted her on her team. They’re already sketching and working on pieces for Willa’s album cover and future tour looks, though that won’t be announced for some time.

But that hesitation is also why I needed to stay behind tonight, even though I would have loved to stand by her side. She needs to know this is all her.

Turning my attention back to the television as the commercial ends, I watch the celebrity news outlet. It’s one of the channels I normally skip, but today I’m watching intensely. I’m glad I am, because now a panel of celebrity fashion experts is talking about Harper’s designs, critiquing Willa’s outfit, the more subdued version Harper is wearing, as well as her latest social media post and announcement. They throw a few screen grabs of the behind-the-scenes photos Harper posted and seem genuinely impressed and excited about her line.

There isn’t the slightest whisper about the lies Jeremy and Clarissa tried to spread, just like I knew would happen. Between her post subtly telling the truth—if you read between the lines—and her new designs, no one will care what lies Jeremy spread.

As they move on to another celebrity, I sit back, my body able to relax just a bit, though I’m still waiting for part two to drop. Five minutes later, as I scroll the internet, looking for any and all commentary and insight on Harper’s designs, I get a text telling me to turn the channel to a popular paparazzi show.

I smile as I tap the numbers, then see a clip of a man leaving a popular New York City restaurant.

“Jeremy! Jeremy!” a reporter yells, one I know to be on Leo’s payroll who was assigned this very important job.

Jeremy looks at the camera a bit stunned, considering unless he’s with a celebrity or his girlfriend, no one really cares about him as a person, despite his self-inflated ego. His surprise melts quickly before stepping forward to the camera as we hoped he would do. He smiles wide, his veneers too white and his look too self-important. God, I can’t wait for this fucker to fall.

“Jeremy, thank you. Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Of course, I’m always happy to speak with a fan. What can I do for you?

“Your ex, Harper Holden, was just spotted walking the red carpet,” the reporter says, and Jeremy’s fake smile falters just a tiny bit before bouncing back, going cruel and targeted.

“Yes, she is allegedly married to Wes Holden. She’s quite the ladder climber. As you know, she started with me, but I cut her off when I realized she was only with me for my fame.”

I laugh out loud and throw a piece of popcorn I popped just for the occasion.

“She’s actually not with him, he and Atlas Oaks are not in attendance at the NMAs.” His face screws up with confusion, but the reporter continues. “She’s with Willa Stone, who she dressed. Willa just helped her announce her first fashion line called the Revenge Line. Many are reading between the lines of her recent social media post and coming to the conclusion that you may have been the inspiration for her creations. A line for women who were wronged and want to get even.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause as the color leaves his face, before he stutters a few times, then speaks. “I, uh, yes, well, I’ve spoken out a few times about the designs Harper has claimed were stolen from her. It’s all a jealous tantrum my ex is throwing. She?—”

The reporter shakes his head to argue, ideally to tell him that there was no mention of stolen designs and it was probably his own damn guilty consciousness speaking, but they’re interrupted.

My smile widens as I realize this is actually going to work even better than we could have planned.

“Hey, are you Jeremy Vaughn?” a woman says with a wide smile.

Jeremy’s irritation slips off, and a cordial smile comes to his lips as he turns to the beautiful woman. “Yes, yes, I am. And who might you be, gorgeous?”

Jesus, the man has no fucking shame. He was just talking about his girlfriend, and now he’s flirting with a random woman?

“I’m Cindy,” she lies. “Gosh, I’m such a fan. Can you sign this?”

Clearly excited about his alleged fame, he forgets the conversation he was just having and the camera still pointed at him.

“Anything for a fan.” He takes the packet from her hands and goes to sign, but then the woman smiles and steps back.

“You’ve been served,” she says and then walks off.

“Served?” he asks, then reads the front of the summons we issued overnight. The timing honestly couldn’t be better, and I’m so happy I’m recording it so Harper can watch after her exciting night, though I bet by the end of the day, there are going to be a dozen angles of this on social media. “Hey! You must have the wrong person!”

The woman shakes her head and keeps walking off.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jeremy mumbles.

I know that within an hour, the social media super sleuths will have dug up and dissected the court document, revealing all of Jeremy’s crimes. Even if this lawsuit goes nowhere, which I’ll fight to make it go all the way if we have to, he’s going to lose in the court of public opinion.

Then Jeremy’s phone rings, and he looks at it, clear panic on his face when he sees the name before answering.

The hits just keep on fucking coming.

I wish we were this good, that we orchestrated this, but even Leo isn’t this good. Karma is just finally getting this asshole.

“Hello? Yes, Mr. Astor, I’d—no, you don’t understand, she’s crazy, and I?—”

“Thank you so much for your time,” the reporter says and walks off, leaving Jeremy red-faced, a loud fuck! making its way to the camera before it’s cut back to an entertainment reporter.

“Wow, so, it seems like Jeremy Vaughn isn’t having a great day.” The woman looks up, brows furrowing. “In fact, it looks like inside sources are telling us Astor Fashion House just released a statement that due to recent information they’ve collected on Mr. Vaughn, they’ve decided to sever ties with the current head of marketing effective immediately. My producer is informing me we’ll have a full article on why on the website within an hour as well as details about the lawsuit he was just served, but it seems to be related to theft, harassment, and blackmail.”

The woman next to her smiles with wide eyes. “I guess that revenge line is a bit more literal than Harper let on, isn’t it?”

They laugh before I change the channel back to the red carpet, though Harper is no longer on the screen, and I sit back, content in the knowledge that he can never hurt my wife again.