Chapter 18 #2
“But everything was fine before I got here,” Margot said, her eyes glistening. “And now there’s photographers and Lila’s stressed. Mom says I cause everyone stress.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” Mia said, her voice an octave higher than before. “You don’t cause stress. It’s those awful people at the show. Right, Vance?”
“Right,” I confirmed. “Margot, you didn’t cause any of this. The show was already happening. Kenzie and Beau were already problems. You being here is the good part. The best part.”
“Really?” Margot asked.
“Really. You make everything better. Both of you do.”
Mia swiped at her eyes. “I’m just scared of what could happen. All of this has seemed too good to be real. You might leave. Like my dad did.”
“Not me,” I said firmly. “I don’t run when things get a little messy. I fight. That’s what you do for the people you love.”
“You love us?” Margot asked softly.
“I do. Both of you. And Lila.”
“Even with all the crazy stuff happening?” Mia asked.
“Especially with all the crazy stuff happening,” I said. “That’s when a family needs to be strongest.”
Margot stepped closer, slipping her hand into mine. “I don’t want you and Lila to break up because of me.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I said. “These idiots have nothing to do with us. Not really. We have one another, and that’s all that matters. Okay?”
She nodded, squeezing my hand.
Mia took a shaky breath. “Okay. But if you break your promise, I’m going to be really mad.”
“Fair enough,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “But you won’t have to be. I promise.”
Margot joined the hug, and, for a moment, we just stood there in the kitchen—the three of us holding onto each other. Seconds later, I heard the garage door opening. The girls pulled away, glancing toward the door with expectant smiles.
“Remember,” I said quietly. “Don’t mention the stereo. Let her discover it.”
They nodded.
The door opened, and Lila stepped inside.
My smile faltered immediately.
She looked devastated. Her eyes were red-rimmed, mascara slightly smudged. Her shoulders were hunched, like she was carrying something impossibly heavy. The portfolio she usually held with pride was clutched against her chest like a shield.
If there had been any doubt in my mind about whether or not she’d seen it, there wasn’t now.
“Mom!” Mia started toward her, then stopped. “Are you okay?”
Lila forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m fine. Just … long day.”
But she wasn’t fine. I could see it in every line of her body.
“What’s that music?” she asked, her voice too bright, too forced.
“We got you a surprise!” Margot said, pointing toward the turntable.
Lila’s gaze followed, landing on the vintage player and stacks of records. Her face crumpled for just a second before she caught herself.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, that’s …”
The girls were watching her expectantly, waiting for her to be excited. And she was trying—God, she was trying so hard.
“This is wonderful,” Lila managed, setting down her things and moving toward the turntable. Her hands shook as she touched one of the records. “You did this for me?”
“Vance picked them out,” Mia said. “With our help. We went to Wrenport.”
“And Margot found your favorite Melody Gardot album,” I added, watching Lila carefully.
Lila turned to Margot, tears spilling over now. “You did?”
Margot nodded, suddenly uncertain. “Was that okay?”
“It’s perfect.” Lila pulled her into a hug, holding on maybe a little too tight. “Thank you, baby.”
When she pulled back, I saw how hard she was fighting to keep it together. For the girls. Always for the girls.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, extending my hand. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Starving. I didn’t have much lunch.” Lila stepped into my arms, and I held her as close as I could without alarming the girls. She was trembling.
“You’ve seen it?” I murmured against her hair.
“All of it. You?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll talk later,” Lila said. “After dinner.”
We sat around the table, with our pasta, salad, and bread. The girls started to tell Lila about Wrenport, but she held up a hand.
“Before we get into that,” she said, her voice steady, “there’s something Vance and I need to talk to you both about.”
Mia’s eyes went wide. “Are you breaking up?”
“What? No.” Lila reached across the table for her hand. “No, sweetheart. Nothing like that. But something happened today that you need to know about—something that might affect you at school.”
I watched her, impressed by how calm she was. How strong.
“What happened?” Margot asked, her voice small.
Lila took a breath. “The people I work with on the show—the producers—they did something really wrong. They sabotaged a scene to make me look bad on camera. And they leaked a private photo of me and Vance to gossip websites.”
“What kind of photo?” Mia asked.
“Just us kissing on the patio,” I said. “Nothing inappropriate. But it was private. And they used it to create a fake story.”
“What story?” Mia’s jaw tightened.
“They’re trying to make it look like there’s a love triangle,” Lila said. “Like I’m interested in Beau, the contractor. Like I’m choosing between him and Vance.”
Margot’s face went pale. “But that’s not true, right?”
“It’s completely not true,” Lila said firmly, leaning forward. “I love Vance. Only Vance. There is no triangle. There never was. They made it up for drama—for ratings.”
“That’s so messed up,” Mia said.
“It is,” I agreed. “And we’re going to fight it. We’re getting lawyers involved. We’re going to fix this.”
“But why are you telling us this now?” Mia asked.
“Because the videos and photos are online,” Lila said.
“And we didn’t want you to see them or hear about them at school without knowing the truth first. We wanted you to hear it from us.
Anything you see, anything people say about me looking upset or unstable—it’s edited.
Manipulated. They gave me the wrong cabinets on purpose to make me react.
Then they made that reaction look as bad as possible—distorting both the video and sound. ”
Margot’s eyes filled with tears. “Does this mean we have to leave? That I have to go somewhere else?”
“What? No.” I reached for her hand. “Sweetheart, no. This doesn’t change anything about our family.”
“But if people think bad things about Lila—”
“They won’t,” Lila said. “Not once we tell the truth. And even if some people believe the lies, it doesn’t matter. Because we know what’s real. And that’s what counts.”
“We’re solid,” I added. “All four of us. This is just noise—bad people trying to hurt us. But they can’t break us apart.”
Mia looked between us. “So what do we do?”
“We tell the truth,” Lila said. “And we don’t let them win.”
“Can I help?” Mia asked. “Like, can I post something? Tell people it’s all lies?”
“Not yet,” I said. “But maybe soon. Right now, we just need you both to know the truth—and to be prepared for what you might hear.”
“What if kids at school say stuff?” Margot asked.
“Then you tell them the truth,” Lila said. “That the videos were edited to make me look bad. That there’s no love triangle. That we’re a real family, and we’re happy and strong.”
“And if they don’t believe me?”
“Then they don’t,” I said. “Because we know the truth. And that’s what matters. You don’t have to defend us or convince anyone. Just know that we’re okay.”
Mia picked up her fork. “This really sucks.”
“It does,” Lila agreed. “But we’re going to get through it. Together. As a family.”
“Are you scared, Mom?” Mia asked softly.
“I’m angry,” Lila said. “And I’m worried about you two. But I’m not scared. Because I have you—all of you. And that makes me stronger than anything they can throw at us.”
Margot looked at me. “You’re not leaving, right? Even though this is hard?”
“I’m not leaving,” I promised. “Not ever. This is my family. And I don’t run.”
“Okay,” Margot said quietly. “As long as we’re together.”
“Always,” Lila said, her voice fierce. “We’re always together.”
We finished dinner with the girls asking questions—how the lawyers would help, what would happen to Kenzie and Beau, whether the show would still happen.
And through it all, Lila was steady. Strong. The protective mother and partner I’d fallen in love with.
Not a victim. A fighter.
“We need to talk about your house,” Lila said quietly.
I looked at her. “What about it?”
“It’s half-demolished. If the show gets shut down, or if I walk away … what happens to it?”
“I’ll hire contractors. Get it finished the normal way.”
“That could take months. And cost a fortune. You and Margot are living here because your place is unlivable.”
“Lila, I don’t care about the house.”
“But I do.” She set down her wine. “This whole thing started because you needed help with a renovation. And now you’re stuck in limbo because of me.”
“Because of Kenzie and Beau,” I said. “Not you.”
“Still.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’ve been thinking about this all evening. And I need to ask you something.”
“Anything.”
“Do you want me to stay on the show?”
I blinked. “What?”
“If we can get me out of the contract—if Ethan finds a way—do you want me to keep doing it? Or would you rather I just walk away?”
“That’s not my decision to make.”
“I know. But I want to know what you think. Honestly.”
I took a breath. “Honestly? I think this show has been hell for you. For all of us. And if you walked away tomorrow, I’d be relieved.”
She nodded slowly. “Me too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I thought I wanted this—the exposure, the opportunity, the money. But it’s not worth it. Not if it means being manipulated and blackmailed and exploited.” She looked at me. “I want my life back. My studio. My quiet clients. Designing homes for people who actually appreciate the work.”
“Then let’s get you out.”
“But what about your house?”
“We’ll figure it out. Maybe you finish it privately—no cameras. Just you and me and good contractors. The way it should’ve been from the start.”
“That could work,” she said slowly. “If they haven’t already destroyed too much of it.”
“Even if they have, we’ll fix it. But Lila—your freedom is more important than my kitchen.”
“What if they sue me for breach of contract?”
“Then we fight that too. Ethan’s good. If we can prove blackmail and sabotage, they won’t have a leg to stand on.”
She leaned into me. “I don’t want to do this anymore. The show. The cameras. Any of it. I just want to be a designer again. And a mom. And … whatever we are.”
“Partners?” I suggested.
“Yeah. That.”
“Then that’s what we do. Tomorrow, we call Ethan. We tell him everything. And we ask him to get you out of the contract.”
“What if he can’t?”
“Then we find another way. But Lila—you’re not doing one more day of filming if you don’t want to. Contract or no contract.”
“They’ll sue.”
“Let them try. We’ll countersue for emotional distress, fraud, blackmail—whatever Ethan thinks will stick.”
She was quiet for a moment. “What about the money? They were going to pay me a lot.”
“We don’t need their money. I have enough for both of us. For all of us.”
“I don’t want to be dependent on you.”
“You’re not dependent. You’re a successful designer with a thriving business. This show was just … extra. And it turned out to be a nightmare. So we cut it loose.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
She kissed me then—soft and grateful.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For not making me feel like I’m giving up.”
“You’re not giving up. You’re choosing yourself. Your family. Your sanity. That’s not giving up. That’s winning.”
She curled into my side, her wine forgotten on the coffee table.
“So tomorrow we call Ethan,” she said.
“Tomorrow we call Ethan.”
“And we get me out of this contract.”
“And we get you out of this contract.”
“And then what?”
“Then we live our lives. No cameras. No drama. Just us.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.”
We sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the decision settling over us like relief.
She was done with the show. Done with the manipulation. Done with letting other people control her narrative.
And, in my short time knowing her, I’d never been prouder of her.