CHAPTER 2
1368 Words
The smile lasted until the elevator doors closed.
Then my legs gave out.
I caught myself on the railing, my nails digging into the brass as the car descended. Twenty-three floors. Twenty-three floors to figure out how to breathe again.
Sophia was beside me, silent, her hand gripping my elbow. The elevator muzak played something cheerful while my phone started buzzing. Once. Twice. Then continuously.
"Don't look," Sophia said quietly.
I pulled out my phone anyway.
The notifications were flooding in. Twitter, i********:, t****k, f*******:. Every platform where I'd built my brand was now exploding with the truth I'd been too blind to see.
The first video was titled "Emma Clarke Gets DESTROYED at Her Own Party." Posted four minutes ago, already fifty thousand views. I watched myself standing there, frozen, while Jason proposed to Claire. Watched the moment my smile faltered before I forced it back.
The comments were brutal.
"She totally knew. This is staged for attention."
"No way she knew. Look at her face. That's real pain."
"Her boyfriend literally upgraded. Claire is way prettier."
"Boss Babe more like Boss FAKE."
My follower count was displayed at the top of my profile. 2,947,283. I watched it drop to 2,947,156. Then 2,946,988.
They were leaving in real time.
"Emma, stop." Sophia tried to take the phone, but my fingers wouldn't release it.
Another notification. An email from FitGear Athletics, one of my remaining major sponsors. Subject line: "Immediate Contract Termination."
The elevator dinged. The doors opened to reveal three reporters with cameras and microphones.
"Emma! Emma Clarke!" A woman in a red blazer shoved a microphone toward me. "Can you comment on Jason Reed's engagement to Claire Morrison?"
I tried to move past them, but they surrounded us.
"How long have you known about their relationship?"
"Is it true you're being pushed out of Boss Babe Fitness?"
That question made me stop. "What?"
A man in a gray suit pressed forward. "We received a press release five minutes ago announcing that Claire Morrison and Jason Reed are taking over as co-CEOs of Boss Babe Fitness App. Your name wasn't mentioned. Care to comment?"
Five minutes ago. They'd sent out a press release while I was still in the elevator. They'd planned this down to the minute.
"No comment," Sophia said firmly. "Ms. Clarke has nothing to say."
But I did have something to say. The words were building in my chest, demanding release.
"They betrayed me." My voice came out stronger than I felt. "They stole everything."
The cameras flashed. The reporters surged forward.
"Are you alleging theft?"
"Will you be taking legal action?"
Sophia finally pulled me through the crowd, toward the glass doors. Her car was parked in the loading zone, hazard lights flashing. She'd known we'd need a quick escape.
The night air hit my face, cool and damp. I climbed into the passenger seat and looked at my phone again.
The video of me saying "they betrayed me, they stole everything" was already circulating. The comments were multiplying.
"She said they STOLE from her!"
"This is getting messy. I'm here for it."
"Calling it now, there's going to be a lawsuit."
My email inbox was lighting up.
"Partnership Termination Effective Immediately" from three more brands.
"Urgent: Contract Review Required" from my talent agency.
"We Need to Talk" from my accountant.
And one that made my blood run cold: "Cease and Desist" from a law firm I didn't recognize.
I opened it. The legal language was dense, but certain phrases jumped out. "False and defamatory statements." "Irreparable harm to reputation." "Immediate retraction required."
Jason and Claire's lawyer had sent this in the twenty minutes since I'd left the party.
"Soph," my voice sounded distant. "I think I'm being sued."
She pulled into traffic, her jaw tight. "Forward me that email. Don't respond to anything. Don't post anything. Don't talk to anyone."
"My career is over."
"Your career isn't over. It's evolving." Sophia's optimism sounded forced. "This is bad, but we can recover from this."
"People love watching someone fail." I watched my follower count continue to drop. 2,923,847 now. Nearly eighty thousand followers gone in under half an hour. "That's what I am now. Entertainment. A cautionary tale."
My phone rang. Unknown number.
"Emma Clarke?" A woman's voice, professional and cold.
"Yes?"
"This is Patricia Winters from Morrison and Reed Legal Counsel. I'm calling to inform you that my clients, Claire Morrison and Jason Reed, will be filing a defamation lawsuit against you tomorrow morning unless you issue a public retraction and agree to the business buyout terms outlined in your partnership agreement. You have until 9 AM to respond."
My heart was pounding. "What buyout terms?"
"The ones you agreed to when you signed the Boss Babe Fitness App LLC partnership agreement. My clients are exercising their right to buy out your shares for five thousand dollars, as stipulated in section 7, clause 3. The paperwork will be ready for your signature tomorrow at noon."
Five thousand dollars. I'd invested two hundred thousand dollars of my own money into that business.
"That's not legal. You can't just steal someone's investment."
"It's perfectly legal when that person signed a contract agreeing to those terms. I suggest you consult with your own attorney, Ms. Clarke. Good evening."
She hung up.
I stared at my phone, trying to remember signing any contract with those terms. But I hadn't read it carefully. Jason had said it was just a formality, that we all trusted each other, that paying for a lawyer to review it was a waste of money.
Claire had agreed, had smiled and said we were family.
"They planned this," I whispered. "All of it. The proposal, the timing, the press release, the lawsuit. They planned every single moment."
Sophia's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Where do you want to go? You can't go back to the apartment if Jason's there."
The apartment. The modern downtown loft we'd all shared, splitting the rent three ways. Except the lease was in Jason's name because his credit score was better. Everything was in Jason's name.
I had nothing. No home, no business, no career. Just a phone full of strangers watching me fall apart.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know where to go."
Sophia was quiet, then made a decision. "My place. You'll stay with me tonight. Tomorrow we'll figure out the rest."
My phone buzzed again. Another email. Another brand dropping me. Another piece of my life crumbling away.
I turned the phone off and watched the Seattle skyline pass by. The Space Needle was lit up, a beacon that had been the background for so many of my posts.
And now I just wanted to disappear.
Sophia's apartment was in Capitol Hill, a small one-bedroom. She gave me her bed and took the couch without argument. Made me tea I didn't drink. Sat with me in silence while I stared at the wall.
Around midnight, she finally spoke. "Emma, I need to know. Did you read that partnership agreement before you signed it?"
"No." The admission felt like defeat. "Jason said it was standard. Claire agreed. I trusted them."
"Do you have a copy?"
"At the apartment. In Jason's office."
"Then tomorrow, we're going to get it. We'll find a lawyer, figure out if there's any way to fight this."
But I knew there wasn't. I'd signed away my rights, my investment, my future. All because I'd trusted the wrong people.
My phone, still turned off, sat on the nightstand like a bomb. When I turned it back on, there would be more notifications, more losses, more proof that everything I'd built was gone.
I didn't turn it on. Instead, I lay in Sophia's bed, staring at the ceiling, and wondered how someone could lose everything in less than an hour.
As I finally drifted into a fitful sleep, one thought kept circulating: I needed to disappear. I needed to go somewhere no one would recognize me, somewhere I could think without cameras and comments and the weight of millions watching me fall apart.
Somewhere I could figure out who Emma Clarke really was when she wasn't performing for an audience.
- Writer
