Chapter 19 #3
Kenzie’s voice came first—sharp and clipped. “It has to be her. Trust me. Lila’s the perfect mark. Polished, hardworking, a little too sweet. Viewers will eat it up.”
Beau rubbed his jaw. “What about Cassidy? She thinks the show’s hers. Carol was even talking about playing up our romance on the screen.”
“Well, it’s not going to be her,” Kenzie snapped. “It’s Lila Morgan. Has to be.”
Beau stood, agitated. “I don’t get it. Why do you want her so badly?”
“She ruined my life,” Kenzie said. “And I’ve been waiting a long time to get my revenge.”
There was a pause.
“What did she do to you?” Beau asked.
“She was the golden girl of our class. Lila could do no wrong. She won every competition. Every internship. And the more she won, the more I lost.”
“That’s hardly reason for revenge.”
“Our second year, I was having some mental health challenges. Having trouble focusing. I went to Lila and asked her to help me. She flatly refused. Said she was too busy on her own projects. That’s how she is. Totally selfish. All about making herself shine when the rest of us were dismissed.”
“Okay?”
“Don’t look at me that way,” Kenzie said.
“I’m not completely insane. What happened was—she threw away a perfectly good pitch at the last minute.
I was desperate. I hadn’t been able to put anything together.
Without a presentation, I was going to fail and get kicked out of the program. So I used the one she’d tossed aside.”
“Kenzie, why would you do that? It’s way too risky.”
“Yeah, turns out you’re right. The professor recognized it from one of her previous drafts. They accused me of plagiarism and kicked me out. I lost everything.”
“But you stole it from her,” Beau said. “You deserved to be kicked out.”
“It was in the trash, Beau. Discarded. Abandoned property.” Kenzie’s voice was calm, almost soothing.
“If she’d just helped me when I asked—one hour of her time—that’s all I needed.
I went to her and told her I was drowning.
She totally brushed me off. Said she couldn’t help everyone.
So yeah, I took what she threw away. And I made something of it. ”
“The professor recognized it, so you didn’t really do anything with it except steal someone else’s work.”
“Because Lila was his favorite. Because she got special treatment. Anyone else and he wouldn’t have remembered.
” She leaned back, crossing her arms. “Here’s what you don’t understand.
This isn’t revenge. This is justice. She’s gotten away with being selfish and careless her whole life.
Never had to face consequences. Never had to struggle.
Now? Now she gets to see what it feels like to have everything ripped away.
To lose what matters most. To be helpless while the world watches. ”
“That’s not justice,” Beau said. “That’s cruelty.”
“No. Cruelty was watching her throw away opportunities while I begged for help. Cruelty was getting expelled while she sailed through to graduation. Cruelty was building her perfect little life on the foundation of my destroyed one.” Kenzie’s voice sounded almost tender.
“I’m not cruel, Beau. I’m fair. I’m just balancing the scales. ”
“So what’s your plan?” Beau asked, sounding weary. “And why should I go along with it?”
“The plan is layered. Methodical.” Kenzie’s voice took on a clinical quality, like she was describing a business strategy.
“First, we sabotage her work during filming. Wrong materials delivered, missed shipments, anything that makes her look incompetent on camera. The viewers need to see her fail professionally.”
“That seems risky—“
“It’s controlled. We work with the production team. They’re already on board—they want drama. Next, we push her emotionally until she breaks on camera. We provoke her, film the meltdown, leak it to gossip sites. Create a narrative that she’s unstable, difficult to work with.”
“And you think she’ll break that easily?”
“Everyone breaks if you push the right buttons.” Kenzie smiled.
“We’ll stage photos of you two together.
Make it look like an affair. Throw that in with anyone she may be dating, and we can paint her as someone who prioritizes men and her TV career over her daughter. Messy. Desperate. Neglectful mother.”
“I still don’t see how that ruins her business.”
“Then we escalate.” Kenzie leaned forward.
“We get her drunk. On camera or off, doesn’t matter—we’ll be recording either way.
Get her talking, make her look sloppy. Feed her wine, ask leading questions about her ex, her daughter, whatever makes her vulnerable.
Edit it to make her look unstable. Maybe she admits she’s overwhelmed, can’t handle single parenting.
Maybe she says something about her daughter that sounds bad out of context. Doesn’t matter. We’ll find something.”
Beau shifted, crossing one foot over his knee, leaning forward. “And then what?”
“Then we make an anonymous call to Child Protective Services.” Her voice was matter-of-fact.
“Reports of neglect. Mother prioritizing her career over her teenage daughter. Drinking problems. Emotionally unstable. All the footage we’ve created will back it up.
Even if nothing comes of it officially, the investigation alone will destroy her.
Her ex-husband could use it for custody.
Her clients will drop her. She’ll lose everything. ”
There was a long silence.
“God lord, Kenzie.” Beau’s voice was hollow. “You want to take her kid away?”
“I want her to feel what I felt. Helpless. Watching everything disappear and not being able to stop it.” Kenzie’s smile was cold.
“The best part? It’ll all be public. Filmed.
Her humiliation will be entertainment. By the time the show airs, she’ll have lost her business, her reputation, maybe even her daughter.
And she’ll never know it was personal until it’s too late. ”
“That’s not revenge. That’s psychotic.”
“This is insane,” Beau said. “You’ve thought of everything.”
“I’ve been planning this for years. You think this just started?” Kenzie laughed. “I got her divorced five years ago.”
“What?”
“I had a friend. She was young, pretty, ambitious. I pulled a favor and got her an internship at Lila’s husband’s firm.
Told her to get close to him. Flirt. Make herself available.
I figured it would cause problems, wreck the perfect marriage, leave her struggling.
And it worked. He cheated. Left her. She was a mess. ”
“Oh my God.”
“But here’s the thing. It should have destroyed her.
Divorce, single mom, starting over? Most people don’t recover from that.
But Lila?” Her voice turned bitter. “She built a whole business. Became more successful than ever. Thriving single mom, beloved in this little town, clients lining up. It was supposed to break her. Instead, she just … kept going.”
“So this is Plan B?”
“This is finishing what I started. Because, apparently, a failed marriage wasn’t enough.
I needed something bigger. More public. More permanent.
” She leaned back. “This time, I’m not leaving anything to chance.
This time, she won’t bounce back. By the time I’m done, there won’t be anything left to rebuild. ”
Beau’s voice was hollow. “You’re insane.”
“No. I’m thorough. And patient. I’ve been watching her for five years, waiting for the right moment.
” Her smile was cold. “The TV show is perfect. Public humiliation. Documented failure. Loss of custody. She’ll lose everything that matters, and the whole world will watch it happen. And this time? She won’t recover.”
“I can’t do this,” Beau said. “This is too far.”
Kenzie leaned forward and poked her finger into Beau’s chest. “You’re the one who’ll need help if I go to the police with what you did to that girl.”
“What’re you talking about?” Beau asked. “You wouldn’t.”
Kenzie’s voice went cold. “I would. In a heartbeat. You have no choice. You gave pills to a girl that killed her, just so you could get in her pants, and you made sure it was covered up. You will help me with this or it’s over for you. How’s jail sound?”
Even with the grainy footage, Beau’s flinch was visible. “What do I need to do?”
The video continued with them mapping out tactics, discussing how to provoke me, when to leak photos, how to cut the footage for maximum damage.
When it ended, Vance reached forward and closed the laptop.
His jaw was clenched so tight I thought it might crack.
“This is unbelievable.” He turned to me, his hands gripping my shoulders.
“She’s been stalking you for five years.
And before that she orchestrated your divorce.
She’s been planning this the entire time. ”
“The whole thing’s so nasty and awful.” My voice came out hollow. “It was always personal. All of it. Carter, the intern, everything. She set it all up.”
“A very unstable person,” Vance said. “And dangerous.”
I pressed my hands to my face, trying to process. Five years. She’d been watching me for five years. That feeling I’d had sometimes—that prickle at the back of my neck, the sense of being observed—it hadn’t been paranoia. It had been real.
“We need to call Ethan and tell him what we’ve got,” I said.
“Already on it.” He pulled out his phone.
An hour later, we were back in Ethan’s office.
As it played, Ethan sat there, jaw working, lips pressed into a hard line. When it ended, he leaned back with a long exhale.
“Well,” he said. “That explains a hell of a lot.”
He looked at us, eyes sharp. “Where did you get this?”
“Cassidy Monroe,” I said. “Beau’s ex-girlfriend. Apparently she was supposed to get the host position until Kenzie interfered. Cassidy showed up on set today. She’d hidden a camera in the apartment she shared with Beau before filming started. It’s all here. Kenzie’s entire plan.”
Ethan whistled low. “This is gold. And it’s admissible. She recorded it in her own home. That’s legal in California.”
“What do we do with it?” Vance asked.
“I send it to the network’s legal department and the executive producers. Quietly.” Ethan steepled his fingers. “If we go to the press first, it turns into a circus. But if the network sees this before it leaks, they’ll act fast to protect themselves.”
“You think they’ll actually do something?” I asked.
“They have no choice,” he said. “If this gets out before they take action, the liability’s massive. They’ll want to handle it internally—control the narrative, save face.”
I sank into a chair. “She knew exactly what she was doing. Every moment on that set was part of a plan.”
Ethan stood and crossed to the window, hands in his pockets. “And Beau?”
“He’s not innocent,” I said. “But I don’t think he wanted it to go this far.”
Vance’s expression was dark. “He still did it.”
“He did,” Ethan agreed. “But the real target here is Kenzie. Or Anne Gilmore, as we now know her. This video, paired with her falsified records and plagiarism expulsion, is the nail in her coffin.”
“How long?” I asked. “Before they act?”
“Twenty-four hours. Maybe less.” He turned back to us. “You two need to lay low. No statements. No leaks. Let me handle the backchanneling.”
“So what do I do?” I asked.
“Be quiet,” he said. “Let this video speak for you.”
I let out a long, shaky breath. The tension that had been coiled in my chest for weeks lessening second by second.
We had her. Finally.
By the time we got back to the cottage, the sun was setting. The house was quiet—the girls still at the beach with Esme. The moment we were inside, I kicked off my shoes and padded into the kitchen, suddenly exhausted down to my bones.
Vance locked the door behind us. “I didn’t see any photographers, but let’s pull the shades anyway.”
“Like a couple of moles,” I said. “I’m hungry. I’ve got a lasagna in the freezer. Should I stick that in?”
“Definitely. We both need to eat. It takes a lot of energy to fight evil,” Vance said, a teasing lilt to his voice.
I put the lasagna in the oven while Vance opened a bottle of wine.
“Come sit.” He took my hand, leading me to the couch. “Tell me how you’re doing. This has been a hell of a day.”
“I’m tired. Like, down to my bones.”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the hum of the oven.
“The best part of this whole thing has been designing your house,” I said finally. “Thinking of all the ways I could make it perfect for you. I miss doing my real job. The work I actually love.”
Vance shifted, giving me his full attention.
“I haven’t slept through the night in weeks.
When I started this show, it felt like a dream come true.
A chance to finally get ahead. My designs on national television.
A chance to really build something. For Mia.
For myself.” I rubbed my forehead. “But I don’t know if I can keep doing this.
The cameras. The scrutiny. They’ve made me look like a lunatic. ”
“What are you thinking?” Vance asked carefully.
“I don’t know.” I looked at him, tears threatening. “Part of me wants to walk away from all of it. Just go back to my quiet life. My studio. My friends. But what if that’s just fear talking? What if I’m giving up too easily?”
“You’re not giving up. You’re surviving.”
“Am I?” I pressed my hands to my face. “Or am I just scared? Scared I’m not good enough for that world. Scared I’ll fail if I keep trying.”
“You shouldn’t be scared of anything,” Vance said. “But I understand.”
“I keep thinking about Mia. How much I’ve been gone. How tired I am all the time. How this is supposed to be exciting but it just feels … awful.” I looked up at him. “But then I think—what if I quit and regret it? What if this was my one shot and I blew it because I couldn’t handle the pressure?”
Vance pulled me against his chest. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. You’re exhausted. You just found out your whole career was sabotaged. Give yourself time to process.”
“What if they fire me? What if this is over anyway?”
“Then we deal with it. Together.”
I curled into his side, breathing in his scent—cedar and wine and safety. “I just want my life back. The one where I’m not constantly terrified.”
“You’ll get there,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “Whatever happens next, we’ll figure it out.”
I closed my eyes, letting exhaustion wash over me. Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t have to decide anything tonight. Maybe I could just … rest.
For now, that was enough.