Chapter 4 – The Firestorm
The statement hit the internet at noon.
By two, #HarringtonDrama was trending nationwide.
Comments poured in like floodwater.
Most of them weren’t kind to Alex.
Someone leaked the Ibiza video first.
Grainy phone footage—Alex drunk on a rooftop, Chloe draped over him, bottles everywhere.
Then came the older receipts.
Screenshots of wire transfers.
Hotel receipts with two names.
By evening, Chloe’s past “breakup fees” were public.
I didn’t lift a finger after the initial nudge.
The crowd did the rest.
Sophia brought me a glass of wine around nine.
“Shares are up three percent,” she said. “People love a matriarch who cleans house.”
I took the glass but didn’t drink.
“Good,” I said. “Let them love it.”
My phone buzzed.
A message from legal:
Alexander’s team threatening defamation suit. Recommend response?
I typed back:
Counter-file tomorrow. Full discovery.
I set the phone down.
Looked out at the city lights.
Tiredness settled behind my eyes.
Not regret.
Just the weight of watching my own son burn in a fire he’d lit himself.