Chapter 44
Alyssa’s mouth dropped as she looked at the next batch of photos and the threatening words that followed. Her eyes darted around, fearing again that someone might have bugged the place or hidden a nanny cam inside the abstract painting that looked like a dog’s bottom.
She’d uttered the words ‘do your worst’ and the online troll promptly had, and she could only pray that was unfortunate timing.
The pictures in front of her were of Sylvie and Devan, Devan and Emmalina, and even Emmalina leaving school with friends.
There was nothing incriminating, in terms of what Alyssa already knew about their lives.
What was ugly was this deadbeat’s threat to disclose what they’d outrageously and quite wrongly named ‘Devan’s shotgun wedding’ with Alyssa’s impregnated best friend Sylvie.
Alyssa gasped at the next callous words.
Alyssa felt herself slump onto the bed. It was a low and pathetic blow, because it made no difference who Devan had or hadn’t married, and the biological ins and outs of anyone’s family was nobody’s goddammed business.
And yet she could not let innocent and adorable Emmalina get dragged into a social media circus or have her parents shouted about by small-minded bullies.
Alyssa had been just about willing to let this troll spurt whatever crap they wanted to about her own life.
But not Emmalina’s. Nor Sylvie’s, nor Devan’s.
How could she stop this? What did this person want?
Should she ask them, or would engaging with them add fuel to their fire? God, she wished Devan was there. He was away for a work thing, and this did not seem like the kind of bombshell to drop over a phone chat. Who else could she turn to? In that moment, it wasn’t clear who she could trust.
Alyssa raked a hand through her hair. This couldn’t be Sylvie, so in theory, she could turn to her.
But how on earth would she explain that some freak had photos of her daughter, because they wanted to punish Alyssa for her previous shallowness?
And that if Alyssa made the wrong move, Emmalina’s world would come crashing down?
Even though Emmalina knew Devan wasn’t her biological dad, they hadn’t made it public knowledge because Emmalina liked things as they were, and why should they be forced to?
She closed her eyes, willing her brain to think. Could this be one of her exes? Or twatty Gary Pratt? Who had had access to so many parts of her life?
Before she could stop herself, she opened her eyes and tapped out a reply.
@alyssaheart_thelovecoach – Who are you? And what exactly do you want?
If her hands weren’t shaking so much, she would have added ‘you spineless, tit-wombling BELLEND’ – and a whole lot more. But she was just about holding it together to type that much. When she worked out who this was – and she vowed she would – there would be no mercy.
As she waited for a response, a notification popped onto her screen from ’Appy Together. She guessed it was in response to her questionnaire, though it had arrived surprisingly quickly. At least reading it would give her respite from this emerging hell.
Dear Miss Heart
Thank you for completing your questionnaire so promptly.
We’re excited to hear you had so much fun with your BUM (Budding Ultimate Match). In fact, from the feelings that appear to be brewing, it seems Devan Shaw is well on the way to being your DUM (Definite Ultimate Match). Congratulations! We’re thrilled everything is working out for you.
As you know, there is just one more Love Task to go. Are you ready for it? Because this final task is completely on you (and your match won’t have a clue).
The task – should you choose to accept it – is to throw a grand, romantic public gesture to announce your feelings to your BUM.
Good luck! You’ve got this.
Her stomach twisted. A grand, public gesture?
Her mind raced back to that night. That stage.
That humiliating costume. At nineteen, that had been her first and only grand gesture – and it had gone so badly it had scarred her for more than a decade.
Even trying to say the words in a social media livestream yesterday had left her dizzily sliding down the wall into a collapsed, jittering heap.
If the app had suggested this before her day had started rotting like a sardine sandwich, she might have had the breathing space to consider it.
But right then, it was one fish bone too many.
Everything was working out for her? Fat chance of that.
And then finally, the troll’s reply came through.
@whoami23456 – Pull out of the final love task. Stir up trouble. Make a scene. Or I’ll share everything I know and make a scene for you.
‘Argh!’ She jumped up and threw a pillow across the room, for want of a better plan.
What was anyone meant to do in this situation?
She had no idea. Should she go back to London and confront her main suspect, Gary Pratt?
Or tell the police? They probably couldn’t track down fake profiles in a hurry, and would this be high on their priority list when they had murders to solve and nice cats to rescue from trees?
And reporting it to the social media platforms could only do so much.
Her phone screen lit up again. Another private message.
@agent_rufusdiamond – Did I make it in time for your latest love task thing? I’m in your neck of the woods picking up a drunken internet purchase. (Who knew the Butt Clench Master Machine was a thing? I’m about to enter the world of extremely toned buttocks.)
Her agent. At bloody last. She never thought she’d be so pleased to see a message from him. He’d set her up with this job, so it was about time he pulled his wobbly-bottomed weight and helped her.
If nothing else, she could trust him. Rufus definitely hadn’t been loitering around Hartglove taking photos from behind bushes, because he was always too busy in London, getting his neighbour’s dog’s nails painted. And quite frankly, Rufus was too much of a doofus to concoct anything so underhand.
So much like he’d got her into this mess, he could temporarily extricate her from it.
She wasn’t running, exactly. And she wasn’t about to pull out of the love tasks or make a huge scene on the say-so of a moustache-twiddling nobody.
But she did need to get away from there and think.
Somewhere she’d be safe from cameras or threats, however empty they may be.
Somewhere to hide while she worked out what the hell she should do about this shambles, and who she could trust to help her.
So she tapped out a reply to Rufus.
@alyssaheart_thelovecoach – I’m at The Cow Shed. Please come and get me.