Chapter 7 Lila #2
We chatted more about ideas for Margot and Vance, ways to make them feel part of our village.
“Lila, is there anything special you want for your celebration party?” Seraphina asked during a lull in the conversation.
“I can’t wait to celebrate you,” Esme said.
“You can bring Vance and Margot so they can get to know us all,” Seraphina said.
“We are part of the deal,” Esme said. “If he wants to be in your life, he gets us too.”
“Speaking of which,” Delphine said, pulling out her phone. “Have you seen these?”
She turned her screen toward me. A gossip blog post: “Designer’s Secret Romance? Inside Sources Say Sparks Flying Off-Camera.”
My blood went cold.
“There are photos,” Delphine continued, scrolling. “You and Vance at the house. In your studio. One of you outside what looks like … is that your cottage?”
I grabbed her phone. The photos were grainy but unmistakable. Me and Vance talking during a filming break. Another of us standing close together, his hand on my arm. And one—my stomach dropped—of Vance’s car in my driveway.
“Someone’s watching you,” Seraphina said quietly.
“These weren’t taken by paparazzi,” Gillian said, studying the images. “Look at the angles. These were taken from across the street. From a car, maybe.”
“Who would do this?” I asked.
“Someone on the production team,” Delphine said. “Someone who wants to create drama. Or …”
“Or what?”
“Or someone with a personal grudge.” Delphine’s eyes were serious. “Lila, has anyone from your past tried to contact you? Anyone who might have a reason to sabotage you?”
I thought about it. “No. I can’t think of anyone.”
“Well, someone’s documenting your every move,” Esme said. “And they know where you live. That’s … unsettling.”
“There’s something else,” Seraphina said. She pulled up an Instagram account on her phone. “Look at this.”
The account was called @BeauAndLilaForever. Hundreds of posts. Screenshots from the show filming. Photos of Beau. Photos of me. And dozens of posts speculating about our “relationship.”
“This is insane,” I breathed. “Who made this?”
“No idea. But look at the detail.” Seraphina scrolled. “Your coffee order. The fact that Mia takes dance at Gillian’s studio. Your car. Your license plate number.”
Fear prickled down my spine.
“Someone’s stalking you,” Gillian said flatly. “This isn’t just publicity. This is obsessive.”
“Should we call the police?” Esme asked.
“And say what? Someone made a fan page?” I shook my head. “They haven’t done anything illegal. Just … creepy.”
“How is there a fan page when the show hasn’t even aired?” Seraphina asked. “This whole thing’s weird.”
“Unless it’s someone on the set,” I said. “There’s a whole crew.”
“Be careful,” Delphine said. “All of you. If someone’s this obsessed with Lila, they might target anyone close to her.”
We sat in uneasy silence for a moment.
“Maybe it’s just overeager fans,” Esme said hopefully. “The show’s getting buzz. People get excited.”
But none of us really believed that. Like Seraphina said, the show hadn’t even aired.
My friends had left around eight, and I was rinsing wine glasses when someone knocked on my door. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Mia was upstairs doing homework. I hurried over to look through the window closest to the door.
Vance stood on my porch, and my heart immediately sank. He looked destroyed—red-rimmed eyes, shoulders hunched, hands trembling slightly.
I yanked open the door. “Vance.” I pulled him inside. “What happened?”
“I called her.” His voice broke. “Nicole finally gave me Margot’s number. Said I should call to prepare her for tomorrow. So I did.”
“And?”
“She wouldn’t talk to me.” He sank onto my couch, head in his hands.
“I asked her how she was. She said ‘fine.’ I asked what she wanted for dinner tomorrow. She said ‘I don’t care.’ I tried to tell her I was excited to see her, that I’d missed her so much.
She just said ‘okay’ and then asked if she could go. Like talking to me was torture.”
I sat beside him, my hand on his back. “Oh, Vance.”
“She hates me. Nicole’s spent six years making sure of it, and now—” His voice cracked completely. “What if she never forgives me? What if she misses her mom so much she can’t ever love me?”
“Vance, look at me.”
He lifted his head. Tears streaked his face.
“She’s ten years old,” I said gently. “She’s been told lies about you her whole life. She’s being sent away by the only parent she’s known because that parent chose a man over her. She’s scared and hurt and angry. Of course she’s not ready to talk to you.”
“Then what do I do?”
“Just hang in there. It’ll take time, but not forever,” I said.
“What if it’s not enough?”
“It will be.” I cupped his face in my hands. “You’re a good father. You fought for her when you had nothing. You moved across the world to be close to her. You never gave up. She’ll see that eventually.”
“What’s going on?” Mia appeared at the top of the stairs in her pajamas.
“Vance had a hard phone call with Margot,” I said.
Mia came down immediately, sitting on Vance’s other side. “She didn’t want to talk to you?”
He shook his head.
“That’s because she’s scared,” Mia said matter-of-factly. “When my dad left, I didn’t want to talk to him either. I was so mad. But that’s because I was hurt. It’s not because I didn’t love him. I just didn’t know how to trust him anymore.”
Vance looked at her. “Did that change?”
“A little. Not as much as I wanted. But that’s because he didn’t really try.
Actually, he didn’t try at all. He kind of just closed the door on our relationship.
” She put her hand on his arm. “But you’re not like that.
You fought for her and lost. But now she’ll be with you and she’ll see how awesome you are and how much you love her.
” Mia’s voice grew husky. “I’m kind of jealous.
I wish my dad …well, never mind. It is what it is, right? ”
I fought tears of rage. Carter was such a poor excuse for a father. My brave girl just kept on going, never complaining or feeling sorry for herself.
“I’m sorry, Mia,” Vance said softly. “That must really hurt.”
“It does. But think about it this way. If I hadn’t gone through that, I wouldn’t be able to help Margot. I’m the perfect person to be her … big sister … type.” Her cheeks turned pink. “Not her real sister … but … whatever. You get what I’m saying.”
“I do. And you’re very wise and kind.” Vance managed a smile. “You seem to have a knack for knowing what to say. Just like your mom.”
Mia beamed. “Really? ’Cause that’s totally true of Mom. She always knows how to make people feel better. I’d love to be that way too.”
“Trust me, you already are,” Vance said. “And thank you.”
For a second or two, Mia’s expression turned tender and vulnerable. She wanted a father like Vance. I wanted that for her too. But it was dangerous to count on a man we’d only just met. Yet, I was doing it too.
Mia stood. “I’m going to head upstairs. I’m reading the best book right now.”
She disappeared up the stairs, leaving us alone.
“She’s something else,” Vance said quietly.
“She surprises me every day.”
“I have no idea what I’m going to find tomorrow, and I’m scared. But it’s what I’ve wanted and prayed for—for years now. I cannot blow it.”
“You won’t.”
I kissed him. Soft and brief, but enough to stop the spiral.
“Thank you for opening the door,” Vance said.
“Always. For you.” I hesitated. My heart thudded. He already had so much to carry, but I couldn’t keep it from him anymore. “There’s something I should tell you,” I said quietly.
He looked up, instantly alert. “What is it?”
I took a breath. “After you left this afternoon, my friends came over. They showed me some gossip posts—photos of us taken during filming. And then there was this weird fan page. @BeauAndLilaForever. Hundreds of posts, screenshots, personal details. My coffee order, my car, Mia’s dance studio.”
Vance’s expression darkened. “That’s—are you kidding me?”
“I wish I were. It’s creepy, Vance. Some of the photos were taken from across the street. One was even of your car in my driveway.”
He swore under his breath. “That’s not a fan page. That’s stalking.”
“I know.” My throat tightened. “I didn’t want to tell you tonight, not with everything else going on. But I think someone from the production team might be behind it. Someone’s feeding the blogs information.”
“Kenzie,” he said immediately.
“That’s what I think too.”
“We’ll figure this out tomorrow,” he said, jaw set. “After I bring Margot home. But you need to keep your doors locked and the lights on. Don’t be alone if you can help it.”
I hesitated, my heart thudding. “Can you stay tonight?”
He blinked, surprised. “Stay?”
“Not like that,” I said quickly, feeling my cheeks warm. “Just—don’t go back to that empty apartment. Sleep on the couch. I’d feel better knowing you’re not alone the night before you get your daughter back. And I don’t want to be here alone with Mia either.”
His gaze softened. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said.
He exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Then I’ll stay.”
I smiled, brushing his cheek with my thumb. “Good.”
He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. “I’m sorry for all of this.”
“We’ll get through it,” I said.
“I don’t have my toothbrush,” he murmured.
“I have a spare,” I said, managing a laugh. “That’s the least of our problems.”
He exhaled again, softer this time. “Okay.”
We stayed like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other on my couch. Eventually, I got up to get him pillows and a blanket from the linen closet and the promised toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked. “Water? Something to eat?”
“I’m good. Just—” He caught my hand. “Thank you. For tonight. For everything.”
I squeezed his hand. “Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
I gave him one last kiss and headed toward the hallway, then turned back. He was watching me with an expression that made my heart ache. Like he loved me.
And oh my God, I think I loved him too. No, I told myself. Too soon. Slow down. Unfortunately, my heart seemed to be deaf.
“She’s going to love you,” I said. “It might take time, but she will. Because you’re impossible not to love.”
“Goodnight, Lila,” he said softly—his voice so tender it nearly had me turning back.
However, I was very aware that my fourteen-year-old daughter was just upstairs.
“Goodnight. Sleep well,” I said.
I went to my room but couldn’t sleep, my mind working through everything that had happened in the last few hours. I said a little prayer, asking for God to keep watch over all of us. Just as I was drifting toward sleep, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I reached for it. An unknown number. With a link? My stomach clenched. I clicked before I could stop myself. It was another gossip post. This one with a photo of Vance’s car in my driveway—taken tonight. The headline: Designer’s Mystery Man Spending the Night?
I couldn't breathe right. Each inhale felt shallow, insufficient. My throat was tight. My hands trembled. I deleted the text, but a moment later another one came through. Another photo, closer this time. Taken through my front window. Vance and me on the couch. Just now. Someone had been outside watching, photographing us, and I’d been inside with absolutely no clue what was going on outside my own home.
Heart pounding, I texted Vance, even though he was just downstairs. I couldn’t imagine walking down the stairs right now without falling.
Lila
Someone’s watching the house. Taking photos. Pull down all the shades. Don’t go outside.
Vance
I see it. This has gone too far. We’ll call the police first thing in the morning. Promise me you’ll stay upstairs until daylight.
I stared at the screen, the glow lighting the dark room.
My chest had gone tight, each breath shallow and insufficient.
The photos on my phone—of my house, my porch, the window to Mia's bedroom—seemed to pulse with each heartbeat.
He was right. It had gone too far. But I already knew what the police would say.
No threats. No crime. Just photos. Just someone watching. Waiting.
My hands trembled as I set the phone down on the bedside table, suddenly desperate to put distance between myself and those images. The room felt smaller now. Exposed. Every window a potential eye. The familiar walls of my cottage, my safe space suddenly felt permeable. Invaded.
I pulled my knees to my chest, making myself smaller, aware suddenly of every window in the cottage.
Were they out there now? Watching? Taking more photos while I sat here, illuminated by my phone, an easy target?
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking.
This feeling of violation reminded me of the day I'd found Carter in bed with his intern.
That same cold dread spreading through my chest. That same realization that someone I'd trusted had betrayed me in the worst way possible. He’d brought her into my bed. My safe haven.
But this was worse. Because at least then, I'd known who the threat was.