21. Amara
AMARA
I've been working from home since the media exploded. Three days now, holed up in my apartment with canvases propped against every available wall, paint tubes scattered across the kitchen table June usually does her homework on.
Thank God she's at school. At least there, she's insulated.
The teachers know what's happening. I called the principal myself, explained the situation, begged them to monitor the other kids, to shut down any gossip before it reaches her.
They promised they would. I don't know if promises mean anything when five-year-olds are involved.
The piece I'm working on is supposed to be about resilience. A study in contrasts—jagged edges softened by curves, violence tempered with grace. Instead, it looks like something bleeding out. Dark reds bleeding into blacks, white trying to break through and failing.
I scrape half of it off with a palette knife. Start again.
My phone buzzes on the counter. I ignore it. It's been buzzing nonstop for three days—reporters, bloggers, people I haven't spoken to in years suddenly desperate to reconnect and hear "my side of the story."
There is no side. There's just June, caught in the crossfire of adult stupidity.
I mix burnt umber with titanium white, try to find a middle ground that doesn't look like mud. My hands shake. The brush slips, creates a line I didn't intend.
Lucian Griffin called us. Not his assistant, him personally. The conversation was brief, designed to reassure Katheryn and I that Black Lake stands behind the collaboration despite the scandal. His exact words: "The work speaks for itself."
Except it doesn't, does it? Right now, the only thing speaking is Raylin's vindictive leak and the gossip sites feasting on my daughter's face.
A knock on the door stops me mid-brushstroke.
I freeze. Nobody knocks anymore. My mother calls first, Maria texts before coming by, Katheryn schedules everything through email. Nobody just shows up.
So this can only be two possibilities. Cassian, or a reporter with no ethics training in their body.
I set the brush down, wipe my hands on a rag already stiff with dried paint and move toward the door slowly, checking the peephole.
To my surprise, it's Raylin Hart standing in the hallway with her perfect hair and smug face. Rage floods through me so fast it leaves me dizzy.
I yank the door open. "What the hell do you want?"
She doesn't flinch. "Can I come in?"
"Absolutely not."
"Amara, I think we should talk."
"There's nothing to talk about. You leaked photos of my daughter to the press. You tried to destroy my reputation and Cassian's because you couldn't handle rejection. Now get away from my door before I call the police."
Her mouth tightens. "I was trying to protect him."
"By exposing a five-year-old to media scrutiny? That's protection?"
"By showing him who you really are. An opportunist who uses a child to manipulate her way into his life." She steps closer. I don't back up. "You disappeared for six years, Amara. Came back right when a major collaboration was on the table. You honestly expect anyone to believe that's coincidence?"
"I expect you to mind your own business. This has nothing to do with you."
"It has everything to do with me. Cassian and I have history that goes back to childhood. Our families are connected. We were supposed to—" She stops herself, jaw clenching. "You don't belong in his world. You never did."
"And you think you do? You've been chasing him for years and he's never wanted you. Not once. That must kill you."
Her composure cracks. "He would've chosen me eventually if you hadn't shown up with your sob story and your convenient daughter?—"
"June isn't convenient. She's a person. A child who deserves privacy and safety and a childhood that doesn't involve her face plastered across gossip sites because you're petty and jealous."
"I gave the media what they needed to see the truth. That you're using Cassian, manipulating him with a daughter he didn't know existed?—"
"I never manipulated anyone. I left because I thought he was with you.
I stayed away because I believed that lie.
And when I came back, it was for my career, not for him.
" My voice rises. I don't care if the neighbors hear.
"You did this. You violated my daughter's privacy, you leaked information you had no right to share, all because you couldn't stand the idea of Cassian choosing someone else. "
She smiles, though it's not genuine at all. "This is just the beginning, Amara. I have connections you can't imagine. People who'll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of woman you are."
"Get out."
"Your little collaboration with Black Lake is going to fall apart.
Cassian's been removed from the project already.
His father doesn't trust him around you.
And once the media finishes tearing you apart, once investors start pulling out because nobody wants to associate with a scandal, Sapphire Studios will drop you too. "
"I said get out."
"You should've stayed in Europe. Built your quiet little life with your quiet little daughter and left the rest of us alone." Her voice drops, venom lacing every word. "Because this? New York? You're not equipped for this. You're going to drown, and I'm going to watch happily when it happens."
Something in me snaps. I step forward, close the distance between us until we're inches apart.
"You go near my daughter again, in any capacity, and I will destroy you.
Not with gossip or leaked photos or petty revenge.
I'll go to every contact I have, every gallery owner, every person in the art world who knows my work, and I'll make sure they know exactly who you are.
A vindictive, obsessed woman who weaponizes children to punish men who don't want her. "
She huffs out a breathy laugh.
"You think your family connections and your society friends make you untouchable?
I've survived six years as a single mother in cities where I didn't speak the language, building a career from nothing while raising a child alone.
I'm not scared of you, Raylin. I'm not intimidated by your threats or your gossip or whatever hell you think you're going to rain down on me. "
"You—"
"Leave. Now. Before I make good on my promise and start making calls."
She stares at me for a long moment. Then she turns, stalks down the hallway toward the elevator.
I watch until she disappears around the corner. Then I close the door, lock the deadbolt, and slide down until I'm sitting on the floor with my back against the wood.
My hands won't stop shaking.
That was Raylin. The woman Cassian supposedly chose over me six years ago, standing in my hallway, confirming every fear I've carried since Barcelona. She's vindictive, relentless, willing to use June as collateral damage in whatever twisted game she's playing.
And she's right about one thing. This is just the beginning.