Chapter 24
BAD GUY
She’s not only being willfully ignorant, but now she's taking legal advice for granted. Why even hire the lawyer?
Waiting it out is only going to give him time to make things worse. This decision makes her an active participant in her own betrayal.
I was all for her and Mitch to get together after the divorce. Now, I don’t want her anywhere near him. He’s way too good for an idiotic, shitty mom with no self-respect or dignity. The more I think about it, the more I’m over this story.
Eliana sighed, scrolling on. Her readers were always obsessing over her and Milo’s relationship.
Writing about the rage room had only served to throw gas on that fire.
But even if Milo felt any sort of way towards Eliana, she was in no position to pursue romance while still navigating this clusterfuck of a situation.
Especially not with somebody so wrapped up in the situation with her.
Taking responsibility for giving away your power means knowing you have to take it back, even when it means being the bad guy.
Eliana paused, staring at the line she’d just read. She read it again. Then once more. Even when it means being the bad guy.
The line resonated in Eliana’s mind like the lingering echo of a shot fired.
It rang true, and yet Eliana’s mind rebelled against the message being delivered.
All this work—the job, the schemes, the lawyer, the plots—all of it to take her own life back.
And her readers thought she was being weak?
Was it just because the story was perceived as fiction that they reacted so strongly?
Or was she truly blind to the reality of her own decisions?
She wants her daughters to spend one last Christmas with a criminal, a cheater, a liar, a bad father who left them alone in their house to sleep with the neighbor? For God's sake, if Emma doesn't want a divorce, just say so.
Eliana felt heat gathering behind her eyes as she continued reading, her chest tightening as she saw how she was perceived, comment after comment after comment.
They called her every name in the book. Weak.
Stupid. Doormat. It was a word she’d tossed around breezily as a reader.
But with the shoe on the other foot? She didn’t understand. She didn’t see it.
Was she a doormat for waiting, for trying to play it smart? For not wanting to send a man to prison? A man she’d been with for more than half her life? The father of her children? How does one separate themselves fully from that dynamic, from that history, and look at it objectively?
Logically, Eliana knew that Jesse’s actions were criminal. She wanted him to suffer. To face the full weight of the consequences of his actions. But it wasn’t as simple as right and wrong.
To turn him in meant that not only would she become a single parent, but any semblance of security she could’ve found in co-parenting would be gone.
No support. No sharing expenses. No emergency backup.
No father figure in her daughters’ lives.
He was a shitty husband, and maybe even a shitty father in some ways, but Eliana would never question how much he loved their girls.
How devastating it would be to sever that connection.
I hope Emma will die . . . because she’s stupid.
Eliana laid the phone face down, unable to read further. She pressed the flats of her palms to her eyes to quell the burning. She sniffled, pressing harder. She would not cry over the opinions of people she didn’t even know.
With a surge of anger, she picked the phone back up, navigating to the story link.
Her thumb hovered over the tiny trashcan icon, just wanting to be done.
Wanting it all to go away. She was so fucking tired.
Tired of living the life she didn’t want.
Pretending to be happy. Biding her time.
Tired of being nothing more than a pawn to Jesse, a client to her lawyer, a character to her readers. She was a person.
“You alright?” Milo’s voice was unexpected, making Eliana jump and drop the device back onto the picnic table, hidden behind the food truck where they’d stopped for lunch. Milo laid a tray laden with tacos on the table, his eyes taking her in. “What’s going on?”
Eliana sized him up, indecision warring within her as she glanced around, noting that nobody else was within hearing distance. Fuck it, she thought. “I’m writing a book.”
Milo’s brows rose, earnest interest in his expression. “Yeah?”
“About my situation. With Jesse. As it happens.”
“Like an . . . autobiography?”
“No. It’s fiction.”
Milo squinted. “But it’s not?”
“To the readers, it is.”
“Ah,” Milo hummed. “It’s fiction to them, but real to you.”
Eliana nodded.
“And things aren’t going well?”
She bit her lip and shook her head quickly, glancing away.
“Well, I don’t know a lot about marketing, but I’ve learned that there’s very little YouTube doesn’t know how to do. I can help you figure it out.”
Eliana’s brows knitted as she jerked her head back. “What are you talking about?”
“To help you get readers?” Milo clarified. “We’ll go hard with the marketing. I’m assuming you write under a pen name?”
“I—yes, but that’s not—” Eliana took a slow breath. “I already have around eight thousand readers.”
“Holy shit.” Milo breathed. “I uh, I don’t think I understand the problem then.”
Eliana grimaced. “The problem is that they hate me. Well . . . the fictional me.” She paused. “Which is just the real me with better hair.”
Milo snorted, then laid a hasty hand over his mouth. “I doubt they hate you.”
Eliana tapped back into the app, turning it around to show him the hundreds of notifications she’d woken up to.
His eyes grew wider and wider as he scanned the page. Then he stretched a hand forward to flick the comments up, reading on.
“They want her to die?” Milo asked, his tone shocked. “What the hell did you write?”
“The last chapter I shared was about our discussion with Richard.”
“Ah.”
Eliana’s eyes narrowed. “You agree with them?”
“Now hold on, I didn’t say that,” Milo held his hands up.
“I certainly don’t want you to die, but I do think you’re caught up in this .
. . idea of your ideal outcome. Where you’re already independent of Jesse, your finances are sorted, your daughters remain blissfully ignorant, and you don’t ever have to dirty your hands—at least not publicly.
But an ideal state is a goal. It’s not reality.
And I’ll be honest, I am worried about what will happen if your plan goes sideways. ”
“So you think I should go with Clem’s plan?”
“To murder the man?” Milo coughed. “Of course not.” He shook his head, casting her one last incredulous side-eye.
“No, I think you should see your own plan through. But I think you should also be prepared for the potential of it not working—and then being forced to make the decision that is best for your future. Abby and Zoey are strong girls. You’ve raised them well.
They can weather more than you think. And in time, they’ll understand. ”
Eliana bit her lip, hearing what he was saying.
Was her motivation to work quietly behind the scenes solely due to fear of her daughters being negatively impacted, or was she scared of how they’d perceive her, in the after?
Even though Eliana knew the fault of the separation lay on Jesse alone, it would not seem that way when Eliana was the one to initiate divorce proceedings. Her worldly experience may be limited, but she knew the true victims in these situations rarely came out on top.
But if she could force his hand . . . she could keep the girls in the dark about the true reasons of the split. They could sit them down and present it as a mutual, amicable decision. Maybe the odds weren’t in her favor, but she had to try.
“I’m scared, Milo,” Eliana finally whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t like not knowing. The readers expect something grand, but I don’t know how this story is going to end. What if I disappoint them? What if I disappoint my girls?”
Milo looked up at the trees, swaying in the wind, quietly thinking as he chewed. “You know, when Bea and I first started dating, we talked about the future a lot. And one thing we always discussed was the fact that we wanted kids. I wanted to be a dad more than anything else in the world.”
“What happened?”
“Well, long story short, we got married, and she changed her mind.”
“Just like that?” Eliana asked, shocked.
“Just like that.”
“You didn’t fight her on it?”
“How could I?” He scoffed. “It’s not my body.
I couldn’t force her to carry my child. And she was never interested in the idea of adoption or surrogacy.
I wasn’t about to bring a child into a home where they weren’t wanted.
She told me that she’d been too young to have the discussion before she even knew what she wanted. ”
“But— That’s so misleading! She baited and switched you!”
He shrugged. “Maybe so, but I stayed for the same reason I stayed when she quit working. When she ran up my cards without a care in the world. When she failed to contribute to her own store. When she was cruel to my grandmother. I stayed because my father believed in love and honor and promises, and I’d sworn before God to love her forever. ”
Milo’s eyes returned, searing into Eliana’s. “He passed when I was eight, and yet, I stayed married to Bea for a decade because I was scared to disappoint the memory of my father.”
“The point is that I understand the fear, Eliana. But,” his voice gentled, “I think you’re doing both your audience and your daughters a disservice with your fear.
I’d be willing to bet that all they want is the best for you.
Same as Clem. And me. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.
” Milo smiled. “Just the next step. So are we sticking with the plan?”
Eliana nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I’m putting it in motion as soon as he gets home. But I hear you. I may need a reminder if it comes to that point—but I hear you.”
She had a plan, and she would stick to it.
To take on her husband face-to-face for the wrongs he’d committed.
To force him into taking accountability.
But if he refused . . . If he forced her hand .
. . If all else failed—Eliana would do what needed to be done, even if it made her the villain in the eyes of those she loved most.