Chapter 5: Scandal, Justice, and a New Beginning

The next day, I had to go to the agency to discuss my contract termination.

I wore my favorite jeans and a blazer, determined to leave with my head held high.

Just as I reached my apartment building, Zoe called.

Her voice was frantic, almost panicked. “Brooke, don’t leave your place—there are reporters everywhere downstairs.”

I peeked through the blinds. Sure enough, a crowd of cameras and microphones swarmed the lobby.

“What happened?” I hurried back up in the elevator.

I paced my living room, phone pressed to my ear. Zoe’s voice shook.

“Check what’s trending,” Zoe said urgently. “It’s a big deal!”

I opened Instagram—almost all the top trending tags were about me.

My notifications were blowing up. I scrolled, heart pounding.

Turns out, a tabloid had snapped photos of me entering a hotel with a married man. Our faces were clear as day. The man was Daniel Walsh, an executive and shareholder at Reed Holdings, in his forties, married with kids. Of course, it was the worst possible headline.

The headline was brutal: “America’s Sweetheart or Homewrecker?”

The internet was flooded with hate. Being labeled a homewrecker is the worst—no matter how good your reputation, one scandal can ruin you forever.

My DMs were full of threats and insults. I felt sick to my stomach.

But obviously, the photos were fake. And with my level of fame, even if it were true, it wouldn’t blow up like this unless someone was pushing it behind the scenes.

Someone wanted me out for good. I had a pretty good idea who.

I scrolled through my contacts, found Madison’s number, and hit call.

My hands shook, but my voice was steady. I wasn’t afraid anymore.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I got straight to the point.

No more games. She answered on the first ring, her tone smug.

“Yep,” she admitted. “I’m not afraid of you recording this—anyone can fake a recording. No one believes you anymore.”

She sounded almost gleeful. I could picture her lounging in her dressing room, soaking up the chaos.

“I’m about to leave the industry. Why are you still coming after me?”

I genuinely wanted to know. Wasn’t she tired of this?

“Letting you go would be too easy. Without you, who would I mess with? You think you can just walk away? Dream on!”

Her words dripped with venom. I shook my head, disappointed but not surprised.

“It’s because of Daniel Walsh, right? His wife found out he was cheating, so you pinned it on me?”

I pieced it together as I spoke. Madison was desperate, and Daniel was her ticket out.

Daniel Walsh had enough power to suppress news like this. If he let it spread, it was probably because his wife already had proof but didn’t know who the other woman was. So, they cooked up this story and swapped in my face for Madison’s.

It was a dirty trick, but I’d seen worse in this business.

Daniel owed his success to his wife—she was formidable. I knew I’d soon face her wrath.

I wasn’t afraid. I knew the truth would come out.

“You’re pretty sharp. That old witch is tough. Have fun,” Madison gloated.

She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. I let her have her moment.

“So Daniel really loves you—he’d rather expose himself than let you take the fall. So, he’s your sugar daddy.”

I said it flatly, not giving her the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Reed Holdings’ shareholder—scared yet?” she bragged. “They’re getting divorced, and I’ll be Mrs. Walsh. You can’t touch me, Brooke!”

She sounded triumphant, but I heard the desperation underneath. She was fooling herself, not me.

“I just wanted to leave quietly, but you wouldn’t let me. Madison, you’ve pushed me too far. I’m done letting you off the hook.”

My voice was cold, final. I meant every word.

“Ooh, threatening me now? I’m so scared!” she laughed.

She hung up, still cackling. I stared at my phone, heart pounding.

Just as she said, the internet was full of hate for me. No one would believe anything I said. So, I wouldn’t release the recording online. But I could send it to one person—Mrs. Walsh.

I opened my laptop, found her email, and attached the audio file. My hands shook, but I hit send.

I emailed the recording to her. She replied quickly: “Thank you. Now I know who he was protecting.”

Her message was short, but I could feel her anger through the screen. I knew she’d handle it.

As soon as I finished, my oldest brother called.

He sounded calm, collected, like always. “Don’t worry, little sis—I’ll handle this. Daniel Walsh is finished.” His voice was always reassuring. “He’s just a minor shareholder at Reed Holdings, which belongs to our family. He’s never met you because you avoid business parties.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for my family’s support.

“Big brother, just take care of Daniel. I’ll handle the rest.”

He laughed, proud. “You’ve grown up. Go for it—we’ve got your back. Mom and Dad are worried, but I’ll calm them down. Grandma hasn’t seen the news, so don’t worry.”

I smiled, feeling lighter. With my family behind me, I could face anything.

“By the way, send me Mrs. Walsh’s contact info.”

I forwarded it, knowing he’d take care of things quietly.

After I sent the recording, Carter called.

He didn’t waste time with small talk. “You okay?” As soon as he arrived, he hugged me tight. “Don’t be scared.”

He smelled like cedar and sunshine, grounding me. I leaned into him, grateful.

“I’m not that fragile,” I teased. “Between the two of us, who’s more scandal-prone? You look worse than I do.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Heartless.”

He squeezed my hand, rubbing little circles with his thumb.

“Seriously, the paparazzi say the photos are from three days ago, but you were with me in Montana. Should I post a statement?”

He was ready to go to war for me. I smiled, shaking my head.

“No need. Let’s go big—hold a press conference.” I winked.

I loved his confidence. He grinned, already planning our outfits.

“Whatever you want, I’m with you.”

He kissed my forehead, and I felt brave again.

I posted on Instagram: “The truth will be revealed at today’s 3 p.m. press conference.”

The comments exploded. Some people still hated, but others started to wonder if there was more to the story.

Within minutes, the post had thousands of comments. Most were still hate, but some people were waiting for a twist.

Zoe called, promising to handle logistics. She was a lifesaver.

I didn’t go through the agency—Zoe helped me set up the event. That afternoon, Carter accompanied me to the press conference. The place was packed with reporters.

The conference room was standing-room only. Cameras flashed, microphones thrust in our faces. Carter squeezed my hand under the table. My palms were sweating.

Before anyone could ask questions, we took the lead.

I cleared my throat, meeting the reporters’ eyes. Carter spoke first.

Carter held my hand and faced the crowd. “Brooke is my girlfriend. Compared to Daniel Walsh, who do you think she’d choose?”

A ripple of laughter ran through the room. The tension eased, just a little.

Obviously, Daniel was just a minor shareholder, while Carter was the sole heir to the Reed Group—and he was young, handsome, and over six feet tall.

The reporters glanced at each other, some smirking. The story was already shifting.

A reporter pressed, “You two haven’t known each other long. Maybe she was with Daniel before you?”

The question hung in the air. Carter didn’t flinch.

Carter replied, “Hold on—we’ll show all the evidence.”

He gestured to Zoe, who cued up the slides. The photos told the whole story.

We presented proof we’d been traveling in Montana for a month, only returning yesterday.

There were time-stamped selfies, plane tickets, and even a video of us roasting marshmallows under the stars.

Most importantly, Zoe had tracked down the original paparazzi and bought the unedited photos for a hefty price. When we showed the real images, the room was stunned. It was obvious who was really with Daniel—Madison.

The reporters gasped, some covering their mouths. Madison’s face was unmistakable.

One of her paid reporters protested, “Who’s to say which set is edited?”

He tried to argue, but the evidence was overwhelming.

I smiled. “Any photo expert can spot the edits.”

I handed out copies of the originals, daring anyone to challenge me.

Just then, my brother texted: “Check Instagram.”

I glanced at my phone, grinning. The timing was perfect.

I took the mic. “Even if I wasn’t with Carter, I couldn’t be a kept woman. I’ve never lacked for money. Check Reed Holdings’ official Instagram.”

The reporters scrambled for their phones. A buzz filled the room as everyone checked the latest post.

Reporters immediately checked their phones. Reed Holdings had just posted two statements:

First: Daniel Walsh has sold his shares and is no longer on the board.

Second: Anyone who slanders our heiress, @Brooke Lane, will soon receive a court summons.

The press conference was short, but it blew up online.

As we left, the cameras flashed like fireworks. Carter squeezed my hand, whispering, “Told you we’d win.”

The internet went wild:

“Wow, the real clown is Madison. How dare she post such badly photoshopped pics?”

“Madison the homewrecker, get out of showbiz!”

“Mrs. Walsh, punish that woman!”

“Wait, Brooke is Reed Holdings’ heiress? What a plot twist!”

“Is she the Brooke from Brooke’s Wonderland?”

“The one who got an amusement park for her sixth birthday? The family favorite?”

“A minor shareholder tries to frame the heiress? Daniel Walsh must have a death wish!”

...

People were shocked by my identity, shipped me and Carter, and roasted Madison. Overnight, her reputation hit rock bottom.

My phone buzzed nonstop with messages of support, memes, and even a few job offers.

Our agency’s CEO personally apologized and brought the top agent, begging me not to quit, promising the best contract and resources. I refused—this world wasn’t for me.

I smiled politely, shook his hand, and walked away. For the first time, I felt truly free.

Soon, Mrs. Walsh posted that she’d divorced Daniel, and he got nothing. Carter told me that Daniel really loved Madison—he gave up everything for her. But she never wanted to marry him. After he lost his money and power, she quickly left and found a new sponsor. But none of those men took her seriously.

It was a harsh ending, but one she brought on herself.

Madison bounced from man to man, never stepping foot in showbiz again. She ended up working at a bar, forced to fake a smile for customers, with no one willing to bankroll her.

I saw a photo online—her smile was brittle, her eyes tired. It was sad, really.

If she’d just worked hard, stopped scheming, and not hurt others, she might never have been a star, but she could’ve built a decent career.

She could have been happy, if she’d let herself.

Every bad outcome was her own doing.

Those who hurt others always get what’s coming to them.

I closed my laptop, slipped my hand into Carter’s, and stepped out into the sun. This time, the story was mine to tell.