Chapter 61
954 Words
Chapter 61
ANGELA’S POV
By nine in the morning, I had already received three phone calls from my lawyer.
By ten, two of the media houses had contacted us about settlement.
By eleven, one of them had withdrawn the article.
That was when I realized they were scared.
Not sorry.
Scared.
I sat across from Benedicta in my lawyer’s office, staring at the documents spread across the table.
“They want you to drop the case,” my lawyer said.
I looked up.
“Already?”
He nodded. “They know the evidence is not in their favor. The articles were published without proper verification, and some of the claims were presented as facts despite having no evidence.”
Benedicta leaned back in her chair.
“Of course they want her to drop it. They thought Angela would cry for two days and disappear.”
I looked at her.
She shrugged.
“That’s what they expected.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the document.
They had called me a prostitute.
A gold digger.
A social climber.
Damian’s mistress.
They had suggested I slept with powerful people to secure contracts.
They had questioned every achievement I had worked for.
And now they wanted me to quietly walk away.
“No,” I said.
My lawyer studied me.
“No?”
“I’m not dropping anything.”
Benedicta smiled.
“That’s my girl.”
My lawyer pushed another document toward me.
“This is the settlement proposal.”
I glanced at it.
The amount was large.
Very large.
For a moment, I understood why people accepted settlements.
Money could make humiliation feel easier to swallow.
But this wasn't about money anymore.
It was about my name.
“I don't want it.”
My lawyer nodded slowly.
“I expected that.”
Benedicta crossed her arms.
“What about the other media houses?”
“They've been notified,” he replied. “And because Benedicta was able to connect us with senior counsel familiar with these kinds of cases, we're moving faster than they expected.”
I looked at Benedicta.
She smiled innocently.
“What?”
“You really have connections.”
She laughed.
“I told you I wasn't just here to insult your outfits and eat your food.”
I couldn't help smiling.
Then my phone vibrated.
I looked at the screen.
A message from an unknown number.
You think taking them to court will save you?
I stared at it.
Another message arrived.
When Damian gets tired of you, what will you have left?
My chest tightened.
Benedicta noticed my expression.
“What?”
I turned the phone toward her.
She read the messages.
Her face changed immediately.
But before she could speak, another message appeared.
A woman like you doesn't survive without a powerful man behind her.
I locked the phone.
I said nothing.
Not because I didn't have an answer.
I had several.
But I had promised myself something.
I wasn't going to spend my life explaining my worth to people who had already decided I had none.
Benedicta reached for my hand.
“Don't respond.”
“I won't.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
My lawyer looked at both of us.
“We'll include the messages in the evidence.”
I frowned.
“They aren't from the media houses.”
“No,” he said. “But they demonstrate the kind of harassment you're receiving because of the publications.”
I nodded.
Then the door opened.
A man in a dark suit stepped inside.
He whispered something to my lawyer.
My lawyer's expression changed.
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“One of the media houses has requested a private meeting.”
“With me?”
“Yes.”
Benedicta immediately shook her head.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“They've already lied about her once. I'm not letting them put her in a room alone with anyone.”
My lawyer nodded.
“The meeting would be with their legal representatives.”
“Still no,” Benedicta said.
I remained quiet for a moment.
Then I stood.
“I'll go.”
Benedicta stared at me.
“Angela.”
“I'll go with my lawyer.”
She studied my face.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
I picked up my bag.
“I started this case because I wanted my name back.”
I looked at the documents on the table.
“If they're ready to talk, I'll listen.”
My lawyer gathered the papers.
“And if they offer another settlement?”
I looked at him.
“I'll refuse.”
Benedicta smiled.
“That's my girl.”
We walked out of the office.
I didn't notice the man standing across the street until I reached the car.
He was watching me.
The moment our eyes met, he turned away.
I stopped.
Something about him felt familiar.
Not dangerous.
Just familiar.
Benedicta followed my gaze.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
She looked again.
The man was already gone.
“Forget him.”
I nodded.
But as I got into the car, my phone vibrated again.
This time, it wasn't an unknown number.
It was Damian.
Where are you?
I stared at the message.
Then another one came.
And why did I hear you're going to meet one of the media houses without telling me?
I slowly closed my eyes.
Of course.
Damian knew.
And judging by the next message, he was not happy.
Angela, we're going to have a conversation.
I swallowed.
For the first time since this whole mess began, I wasn't afraid of the media.
I was afraid of my boyfriend's reaction.
And somehow, that was worse.
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