Chapter 29 Jessica #3
"Everyone thinks you're crazy because the Morrison family controls the narrative.
" Rosa pulls out her tablet and swipes through screens.
"They have PR connections at every major outlet from here to Seattle.
They've been spinning this story since you left him, painting you as an unstable omega who couldn't handle the pressure of marrying into their family. "
"I couldn't handle being controlled," I correct, my voice sharp. "There's a difference."
"Exactly." Rosa sets down the tablet. "And that's what we tell them. That's the truth we put out there to counter their lies."
"We?" Nacho's eyes narrow. "What exactly are you proposing?"
"A press conference. Tomorrow morning, if possible.
Before the Morrison family can spin this any further.
" Rosa pulls more documents from her bag.
Affidavits. Witness statements. "I have two of the three women willing to go on the record.
They're terrified, but they're ready. They've been watching the news coverage, watching the Morrison family try to destroy another woman, and they're done staying silent. "
The room goes completely still.
"You want Jessica to stand in front of cameras and reporters and tell them everything." Carlos's voice is tight. Controlled. "While the Morrison family is actively trying to discredit her."
"I want Jessica to take back her story." Rosa looks at me again.
"Right now, you're the villain in their narrative.
The runaway bride. The unstable omega. The homewrecker who seduced four men.
" She gestures to the papers spread across the table.
"But with this evidence, with these other women backing you up, you become something else. You become the survivor who got away."
My throat closes.
"I can't." Tears burn my eyes. "I'm not strong enough. I'll fall apart."
"You won't be alone." Sergio's hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together. "We'll be there. All of us."
"And I'll handle the press," Rosa adds. "I'll field the questions. All you have to do is stand there and exist. Let people see you're not the person the Morrisons are describing. Let them see you're human."
I look around the room. At Sergio beside me, solid and certain. At Pedro leaning against the fireplace, arms crossed but expression concerned. At Carlos perched on the arm of the couch, ready to fight. At Nacho by the window, already thinking through logistics.
My pack.
"What if it doesn't work?" My voice comes out small. "What if people still believe them?"
"Then we try something else." Rosa starts gathering the papers back into the folder.
"But Jessica, I've been doing this for twenty years.
I know how these stories play out. Right now, the Morrison family is counting on you staying silent.
They're counting on you being too scared, too ashamed, too broken to fight back. "
She meets my eyes.
"Prove them wrong."
The words settle into the silence.
Sergio squeezes my hand. "Your choice. Whatever you decide, we support it."
I think about the article. The comments calling me trash, desperate, mentally unstable. The way Callum's mother called my mom offering to pay for treatment. The years I spent trying to be small enough, quiet enough, perfect enough to deserve his love.
I think about three other women who tried to speak up and got silenced.
"Okay." The word comes out stronger than I feel. "Okay. I'll do it."
Rosa nods once, sharp and satisfied. "Good. We'll do it at the town square. Nine AM tomorrow morning. I'll handle the media coordination. You just need to show up and stand with your pack."
"That's it?"
"That's it." She zips her bag closed and stands. "The rest is just noise. And I'm very good at managing noise."
Sergio walks her to the door. I hear them talking in low voices, discussing logistics, times, locations. When he comes back, his expression is carefully neutral.
"You don't have to do this," he says quietly. "If you changed your mind right now, we'd support that too."
"I know." I lean into his shoulder, breathing him in. Cedar and smoke and safety. "But she's right. They're counting on me staying quiet. I'm done being quiet."
His arm wraps around me, pulling me close.
"Then tomorrow we make noise."
The others drift closer, forming a circle around me. My pack. My family. My choice.
"Jess." Stacey's voice cuts through the moment. She's standing in the doorway, looking guilty. "I need to tell you something."
My stomach drops. "What?"
"I wasn't planning to leave tomorrow morning." She twists her hands together. "I was going to leave tonight. After dinner. I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd feel bad, but I have an early meeting and the drive is long and..."
"You have to go." I finish for her. Understanding floods through me. "Right now."
"I wanted to stay," she says softly. "I wanted to be here for you tomorrow. But this client booked me six months ago and if I miss the morning meeting, I lose a twenty-thousand-dollar contract, and..."
"It's okay." I stand up and cross to her. "It's okay. You came. You were here when I needed you. That's what matters."
"But the press conference," she protests. "You shouldn't have to face that alone."
"She won't be alone," Sergio says from behind me. "She has us."
Stacey looks at the four of them standing there, solid and protective and ready to go to war for me.
"Yeah," she says softly. "She does."
We hug goodbye on the porch. Long and tight and full of unspoken things.
"Call me after," Stacey orders. "I don't care what time it is. I want to know you're okay."
"I will."
"And kick their asses." She pulls back to look at me. "The Morrisons. The reporters. Anyone who tries to make you feel small. Kick. Their. Asses."
"I'll try."
"Don't try. Do."
I watch her taillights disappear down the driveway. The night feels colder without her. Emptier.
"Come inside," Sergio says gently. "It's late. You should sleep. Tomorrow's going to be hard."
"I don't think I can sleep."
"Then we'll stay up with you."
And they do. All four of them. Sitting with me in the living room, the fire burning low, until exhaustion finally pulls me under.
Tomorrow I tell my truth.
But tonight, I'm surrounded by pack, and that's enough.