Chapter 29: Public Record
The press found out the way sharks find blood. Not all at once. First it was one photo, grainy, ugly, taken outside the medical building as Anton held the car door for me and looked too intent, too protective, too much like a man who had stopped pretending he was only my investor. Then another. Then the articles began multiplying by the hour, each one dressed in expensive language and pretending speculation was journalism. Founder pregnant. Investor involved. Vespucci heir and tech darling in private scandal. I sat at Anton’s dining table in his penthouse with my phone faceup beside my tea and felt rage rise so cleanly it almost calmed me. “This is exactly what I told you would happen,” I said. Anton stood across from me, one hand braced on the back of a chair, reading one of the a
- Writer
