Chapter 66
MELODY
Aserver had already filled my water glass and left a wine list, but I’d been too nervous to look at it. I knew Summer was going to order wine. I didn’t even know her, but I knew enough to know she didn’t get through a conversation like the one we were going to have without wine.
My phone sat face down on the table beside my water glass, the call still connected. I could feel it there like a lifeline—Austin, Cash, and Cleo listening to every word, ready to step in if things went sideways.
I wasn’t afraid of Summer. Not in a physical sense. But I didn’t trust her. She might try and get me to say something. She could very well be the one recording me. I needed to watch what I said.
Summer glided in like she owned the place.
“Melody!” She air-kissed both my cheeks, her perfume overwhelming and expensive. “Oh my god, you look amazing. I love the outfit.”
I’d chosen carefully. I went with a silk blouse tucked into tailored trousers with heels that made me feel powerful. Battle armor disguised as dinner attire. I could feel eyes on us. Or maybe I was just being paranoid.
“Thanks,” I said.
She settled in and immediately charmed the server who appeared to take our drink orders. “We’ll have a bottle of your best Chardonnay,” Summer said without consulting me. “And I’ll start with the burrata. Melody?”
“The same,” I said, not really caring what I ordered. I wouldn’t be able to eat anyway, not with my stomach in knots.
Once the server left, Summer leaned forward conspiratorially. “I can’t believe this is really happening. Tomorrow is the big day. Are you ready for this?”
I forced myself to smile. “I’m ready. But I want to make sure we’re on the same page about everything. Tell me again how this is going to go down.”
Summer’s eyes lit up with mischief. She loved talking about herself and her master plan. “So, The Spill Room is recording the episode tonight at midnight. It’ll go live tomorrow morning at eight, right in time for the East Coast morning commute. Maximum impact.”
The server returned with our wine, pouring generous glasses. Summer didn’t wait for a toast, just took a sip and continued.
“I’ll walk them through the entire arrangement I did with Cash Bancroft.
I’m going to tell them all the dirty details about how he hired me to babysit Austin.
And then I’ll talk about how Austin used me and then discarded me the moment you came along.
” She reached across the table like she might touch my hand.
“That’s where you come in. You’re the proof that this is a pattern of behavior.
That the Bancrofts see women as disposable tools for their PR machine. ”
My stomach churned, but I kept my expression neutral. “And you think this will get you what you want?”
“What I want?” Summer laughed, taking another sip of wine.
“Melody, this is going to make my career. Do you know how many opportunities come from a viral expose like this? Book deals, speaking engagements, consulting gigs. I’ll be the woman who took down a Bancroft.
People will pay serious money for that story.
And there will undoubtedly be a very wealthy man ready to swoop in and prove to me that not all rich guys are the same. ”
The casual way she said it, like destroying Austin’s reputation was just a steppingstone to her personal success, made my blood boil. But I swallowed the anger and kept my voice level.
“I thought this was about justice,” I said carefully. “About holding them accountable. What about the lawsuit you mentioned? The legal action?”
Summer’s smile flickered for just a second. “Well, yes, of course it’s about justice too.”
“But you said you were going to sue them. What legal grounds do you have? What does an expose have to do with a lawsuit?”
She set down her wine glass, and I saw her calculating behind those pretty eyes. “The thing is, after consulting with my lawyers, I realized that suing the Bancrofts would be complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“They have unlimited resources. The best legal team money can buy. They’d drag it out for years, bleed me dry in legal fees, and probably win anyway just because they can afford to outlast me.” She picked up her wine again, swirling it. “I can’t afford to sue them. Not really.”
“So the lawsuit was never actually an option?”
“Not a realistic one, no.” Summer’s voice had an edge now, like she didn’t appreciate being questioned.
“But that’s where public opinion comes in.
I can’t beat them in court, but I can beat them in the court of public opinion.
Once people see what they did, once Austin gets canceled—really cancelled, not just the usual tabloid nonsense—then the Bancrofts will wish they’d just settled with me quietly. ”
I felt a rush of pure anger. Summer didn’t even know Austin. She’d spent what, a few minutes with him? And now she was planning to destroy everything he’d worked to become—not because he’d actually hurt her, but because she wanted fame and money.
“So, this is your first move to get them to try and settle with you?” I asked.
“No, no.” She smiled. “This is because they didn’t settle with me when they could have. So now I’m going nuclear.”
The burrata arrived, and Summer attacked it with enthusiasm, completely at ease. She was enjoying this, enjoying the prospect of ruining someone’s life for her own gain.
I picked at my food, trying to figure out how to get her to say more without tipping my hand. I had to pretend to hate Austin just as much as she did, but the charade was getting harder to maintain with every passing second.
“So walk me through it again,” I said, taking a small bite. “What exactly are you telling The Spill Room?”
“Everything,” Summer said around a mouthful of bread. “I’ll bring you into it, how he did the exact same thing to you. Used you for good PR and then moved on when you weren’t useful anymore.”
“But I dumped him,” I pointed out. “That’s what my post said.”
“Right, and that’s perfect. You saw through his bullshit before he could discard you. You took your power back.” She waved her fork. “It’s even better this way. Shows you’re smart and strong, not a victim.”
In between bites, Summer talked about her strategy, her talking points, how she’d practiced her “hurt but resilient” expression in the mirror. She was treating this like a performance, which I supposed it was.
“The best part is that I have all this documentation. It’s going to be impossible for the Bancrofts to deny any of it.”
“Have you altered any of the documentation?” I asked carefully. “I mean, to make it more clear or dramatic for the audience?”
Summer paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Altered?”
“You know, like highlighted certain parts or presented things in a certain order to tell a better story?”
“Oh.” She relaxed. “Well, yeah, of course. I had to make it digestible for a general audience. Cut out the boring legal stuff, focus on the juicy parts. Present things in a way that makes the narrative clear.”
“So you’ve edited it?”
“I’ve curated it,” she corrected. “There’s a difference. All the facts are real. I’ve just arranged them to tell the most compelling story.”
My heart was racing. This was good. This was what we needed. But I had to push a little more.
“And what about your lawyers?” I asked. “What did they say about you going public like this?”
Summer’s expression soured. “They said I shouldn’t. They’re too cautious. They don’t understand that sometimes you have to take risks to get what you deserve.”
“So they advised against it?”
“They advised against everything,” she said dismissively. “They wanted me to just take the settlement Cash offered and shut up. But why should I? Why should the Bancrofts get to use people and face no consequences? They have billions and they offered me a measly million. Seriously?”
“How much do you want?” I asked.
She pretended to think about it, but it was pretty clear she already had a number in mind. “I don’t know, what do you think?”
It was a test. I wasn’t about to be recorded tossing around blackmail numbers. No thanks.
“I wouldn’t even know,” I said.
“I’m going for twenty-five million, but I’ll settle for ten.”
I couldn’t help it. I started choking. She had to be joking. But the look on her face told me she was dead serious.
“Oh,” I squeaked. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense. I thought you agreed to a number already and Cash paid you?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Whose side are you on, Melody?”
“Yours,” I said quickly. “I’m just trying to understand all the angles. If the Bancrofts come at you with lawyers, I want to make sure you’re protected. And if you’re putting my name out there, I need to know the facts.”
She seemed to accept this, her shoulders relaxing. “That’s sweet of you to worry. But trust me, once public opinion turns against them, no amount of lawyers will matter. Cancel culture is more powerful than any court.”
The words made me feel sick. She was weaponizing the same thing that had nearly destroyed me, and she was proud of it.
I had only picked at the appetizer when our server delivered the main course. I had been so focused on making sure my phone was getting everything, I didn’t remember her ordering meals. Did she?
I sipped my water, avoiding the wine unless Summer made it a point to look at my full glass. I didn’t want her to think there was anything wrong. We ate while she continued to tell me what she was going to spend her money on and the places she would travel.
She had two glasses of wine to my half of one, getting progressively more relaxed and candid when the server came to pick up our plates.
“You know what’s funny?” she said before taking another drink. “They think money can fix everything. And it can.”
“Have you spent much time with him?” I asked. “Beyond the wedding you were paid to attend?”
“Enough to know he’s an asshole,” she said. “He barely talked to me the whole time we were there. And he pouted about having to be with me at all. I was literally furniture to him.”
“So this is personal for you,” I said.
“Hell yes, it’s personal. He made me feel like nothing.” She leaned forward, her eyes bright with wine and vindication. “But tomorrow? Tomorrow I’m going to make him feel like nothing. And I’m going to get rich doing it.”
“I’m glad you’re brave enough to do this,” I said, raising my wine glass. “But I want to be really clear about what we’re doing here. This is about taking down Austin Bancroft, right? Making him pay for how he treated us?”
“Absolutely,” Summer said, raising her own glass.
“And we don’t care if we have to bend the truth a little? Present things in a certain light?”
“Melody, we’re presenting the truth. It’s just our truth. Our interpretation.” She smiled. “And yes, if that interpretation happens to make us both very successful, very rich women in the process, then that’s just a bonus.”
We both took drinks from our glasses.
Summer leaned back with a soft smile on her lips. “In a couple years, it’ll be you and me on a yacht somewhere, looking back at where it all started and laughing about it.”
“Cheers to that,” I said. I clinked my glass against hers.
Got you, I thought.
Summer drained her glass, completely oblivious to what she’d just admitted. She thought she had won. She really thought she had recruited me to her cause. She had no idea that every word she’d just said had been recorded. Her carefully constructed plan was about to collapse around her.
“So,” Summer said, signaling for the check. “Want to come with me to the recording tonight? They said I could bring a supporter.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I have an early morning tomorrow. But I’ll be watching when it drops.”
And you, I thought.
Summer was going to face an epic takedown.