I watched it all unfold from the quiet, insulated world of Victor’s private studio, the one he had assigned me while the storm raged. My phone buzzed incessantly with calls from every major news network and magazine. They all wanted the same thing: my side of the story, my tears, my rage, my victory lap on the corpse of Julian’s career.
I instructed Evelyn to issue a single, concise statement.
“Ms. Thorne is gratified by the tribunal’s decision, which has affirmed the truth of her authorship. She considers this matter legally closed and will be making no further public comment. Her focus now, as always, is on the music.”
I didn’t want their pity or their salacious headlines. I didn’t need to pour salt in his wounds. The truth was its own punishment. Julian hadn’t been defeated by me; he
