Chapter 70
MELODY
Summer had texted while I was asleep in Austin’s arms to let me know her podcast interview had been rescheduled to today.
I was a little surprised the podcasters were going forward with it.
But clearly, they liked to play with fire.
And I was feeling daring. I didn’t mind getting a little singed if it meant I could see the look on Summer’s face when I dropped my little bombshell.
So far, she knew nothing about the legal action Cash and his team of lawyers were putting together. It was going to be one big fat surprise that I got to deliver. It was almost too good for words.
The building that housed The Spill Room’s production studio was nondescript.
It was just another warehouse conversion in Long Island City that could have been anything from an art gallery to a tech startup.
But I knew what was inside: a recording studio where Summer Auburn was supposed to go live in less than thirty minutes to destroy the man I loved.
Not on my watch.
I stood on the sidewalk, staring at the entrance, my heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and exhilaration.
I had dressed for the occasion. I wore the black leather jacket and paired it with black jeans and a black blouse with some kick ass black boots.
Cleo and I both agreed I needed to look the part.
The public breakup stunt had worked exactly as intended.
My Instagram post had gone viral. Austin was being dragged through the mud in the comments.
People were calling him every name in the book, psychoanalyzing his past behavior, declaring that they’d “always known” he was no good.
The narrative had formed quickly: another Bancroft playboy breaking another good woman’s heart.
It made me sick to read, but it had been necessary. Summer had to believe I was on her side. Had to think she’d successfully recruited me to her cause. And now I was about to pull the rug out from under her.
I checked my phone one last time. A text from Austin: You’ve got this, baby girl. We’re all here if you need us.
Cash had added to the thread: Legal team confirms the injunction was filed at 8 a.m. We’re ready.
Cleo: Go get her, babe. Show that snake who she’s messing with.
I smiled, tucked my phone in my purse, and walked toward the entrance.
Once this was over, Austin and I could go public for real. I would stand by my man and make all those Negative Nellys eat their words.
I was so ready for that. Ready to come out on the other side of this mess and see what was in store for us. I was ready to build something real with him.
Because I loved him.
I’d known for a while that I was falling. Gosh, who was I kidding? I’d fallen ages ago. Probably that first night at Sophie’s wedding when Austin Bancroft had literally swept me off my feet and kissed me in front of everyone. He had changed the entire trajectory of my life.
He had also changed something deep inside me. Something that recognized him, even then. Something that whispered this one matters.
And I had been right.
My whole life, I’d been searching for something intangible.
Some sense of purpose, of belonging, of being exactly where I was supposed to be.
I thought I found it with my career. The connection I felt with other women like me.
That had given me purpose. Building a platform where I could show them they were beautiful, worthy, powerful exactly as they were? That had felt like my calling.
And it was. It still was.
But now that I had Austin, I realized what true joy felt like. The career gave me purpose. Austin gave me joy. Pure, uncomplicated, all-consuming joy that bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest and made everything brighter.
He made me feel like I could stop searching. I had finally found what I didn’t even know I was looking for.
Home. He felt like home.
The thought made me grin as I pushed through the entrance and approached the reception desk. “I’m here to see Summer Auburn. She’s recording with The Spill Room.”
The receptionist checked her list. “I don’t have you down as a guest.”
“I know. But she’ll want to see me. Tell her Melody Stephens is here.”
The receptionist made a call, spoke quietly, then looked up at me with raised eyebrows. “Studio B. Down the hall, last door on the right.”
I thanked her and headed down the corridor, my heels clicking on the polished concrete floor.
Through windows, I could see other studios—one with a podcast setup, another that looked like a YouTube recording space.
This was clearly a hub for content creators, which made it the perfect place for Summer to stage her big reveal.
It was somewhere I would have considered if I ever did start my own podcast.
I reached Studio B and knocked once before pushing the door open.
Summer stood in front of a professional setup, with cameras, lights, a sleek table with microphones, and two hosts who looked like they’d stepped out of a fashion magazine.
They were young, glossy, and clearly excited about the drama Summer was about to bring them.
Didn’t they know the pile of shit they were wading into?
They did know and that’s why they were giddy. They couldn’t really be held responsible for what Summer said. They were just giving her the rope to hang herself with.
Summer’s head whipped around at my entrance. I watched surprise flash across her face before she quickly covered it with a smile.
“Melody!” She came toward me, arms outstretched like we were old friends. “What are you doing here? Did you decide you wanted to make a statement on camera? That would be amazing. We are so going to nail him!”
“No,” I said, cutting her off. “I came to give you this.”
I pulled the envelope from my bag. It was the one Cash’s legal team had prepared early this morning. Inside was a transcript of the recording from our dinner, along with a formal cease and desist letter.
Summer took it, confused. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
I watched the color drain from her face as she read. Her hands started to shake slightly, and she looked up at me with something like panic in her eyes.
“You recorded me?”
“Every word,” I said calmly. “You admitting that you doctored evidence. And that you’re doing this for personal gain, not justice. You’ll also remember that little part about you admitting that your lawyers advised against it. All of it.”
The producers had moved closer, clearly sensing that their explosive interview was about to implode.
“Is this true?” one of them asked Summer. “Did you fabricate evidence?”
“I didn’t fabricate anything,” Summer said quickly. “I just curated it. Made it more understandable for a general audience.”
“You said ‘doctored,’” I corrected. “On tape. You said you doctored the evidence.”
Summer’s face flushed red. “You tricked me. You pretended to be on my side.”
“I pretended to be someone who would help you destroy an innocent man for your own career advancement,” I said. “And you fell for it because you were so convinced that everyone is as morally bankrupt as you are.”
One of the producers picked up the cease-and-desist letter, reading it quickly. “This is from Bancroft Legal. They’re threatening to sue us if we air anything based on falsified evidence.”
“It’s not falsified,” Summer pouted.
“But you just admitted it’s doctored,” the other producer said. “Which means it’s not reliable. Which means we could be liable for defamation if we run with this.”
I turned to address them directly. “The Bancrofts are giving you and Summer a chance to back down before this becomes a legal nightmare. You were warned last night but you chose to move ahead. If you stop the recording now, walk away, no one has to get sued. But if you move forward knowing that the evidence has been manipulated and the story is being presented in bad faith?” I shrugged. “That’s on you.”
Summer looked at me like I’d betrayed her on the most fundamental level. “Why are you doing this? Why are you protecting him? Austin Bancroft doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about women in general. He’s a womanizer, a user, and a total man whore.”
I lifted my chin, meeting her eyes steadily. “He’s reformed.”
Summer laughed. It was a bitter, ugly sound that sounded more like an evil cackle. “Reformed? You really believe that?”
“I know it,” I said. “Because I know him. Really know him. Not the persona you saw at a few events, but the real Austin. The one who makes me laugh until I can’t breathe. He’s not the person you’re trying to make him out to be.”
“You’re delusional,” she snapped.
“I’m in love,” I corrected. “And I know the difference between someone using me and someone loving me. Austin loves me. And I’m not going to stand by while you destroy him for clicks and book deals. Or a windfall of cash so you can fuck over another unsuspecting rich guy—that was your plan, right?”
I turned back to the producers. “So what’s it going to be? Do you pull the episode, or do we see you in court?”
They exchanged glances, clearly doing mental calculations about legal liability versus viral content. Finally, one of them sighed.
“We’re not running it. If the source material has been manipulated and she’s acting in bad faith, we have no interest in provoking the Bancrofts any further. The legal risk isn’t worth it.”
“What?” Summer whirled on them. “You can’t just—we had an agreement!”
“We had an agreement based on the understanding that your story was truthful and verifiable,” the producer said. “If that’s not the case, the agreement is void.”
Summer looked between all of us, her perfectly composed mask finally cracking. I could see the desperation underneath, the realization that her big moment was slipping away.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” she said to me, her voice shaking. “The Bancrofts will use you and throw you away just like they did to me. And when they do, don’t come crying to me.”
“I won’t,” I said simply. “Because unlike you, I actually know what love looks like. And it doesn’t look like schemes and revenge and tearing other people down to build yourself up.
Summer, you assume I needed him to rescue me.
I didn’t. You are the one that needs someone to do the hard work for you because you’re too damn lazy to do it yourself. Never assume you know me. You don’t.”
I turned and walked toward the door, my heart racing but my steps steady.
“This isn’t over,” Summer called after me.
I paused at the door and looked back. “Yeah, actually, it is. The cease and desist gives you twenty-four hours to publicly retract any statements you’ve made about the Bancrofts.
If you don’t, they’ll sue you for defamation and extortion.
And trust me, they have better lawyers than you could ever afford. ”
I walked out, leaving Summer standing in that studio with her destroyed plans and her shattered schemes.
I pushed through the exit doors and stepped out into the bright morning sunshine. I felt like I could finally breathe properly for the first time in days.
And then I saw him.
Austin leaned against his sports car at the curb, looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had.
He wore a perfectly tailored suit that made his shoulders look impossibly broad, and designer sunglasses that I was pretty sure had a five-figure price tag.
His hair was slightly tousled from the wind, and he was grinning at me like I had just hung the moon.
“Hey, beautiful!” he called out and actually catcalled me. Several people looked over. “Come here often?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. The absurdity of it all had me grinning like a damn fool. Austin, being ridiculous and perfect and exactly what I needed.
I paused to do a little curtsy, playing along, and his grin widened.
“That’s my girl,” he said, pushing off the car and coming toward me. “How’d it go?”
“It went perfectly. Summer’s done. The Spill Room won’t touch her story.”
He reached me and pulled me into his arms, sunglasses still on, and I could see my reflection in the lenses, flushed, happy, and victorious.
“You’re incredible,” he said. “Absolutely fucking incredible.”
“We make a good team.”
“The best team.” He pulled off his sunglasses so I could see his eyes. “Ready to get out of here?”
I pulled out my phone and powered it off, exactly as we had planned. No way to track us, no way for anyone to find us. For the next twenty-four hours, we were going dark while Cash and the legal team handled the fallout.
“So ready,” I said.
Austin opened the passenger door for me with a flourish. I slid into the buttery leather seat. He came around to the driver’s side, and within moments, we were pulling away from the curb, leaving Summer and her schemes and all the drama behind us.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Somewhere no one will find us. Somewhere we can just be us.” He reached over and laced his fingers through mine. “Cash will handle the cleanup. Our lawyers will make sure she can’t come after us again.”