Isolde Finch watched the numbers climb. Likes, shares, comments—a tidal wave of public sympathy washing in Lyra Hawthorne’s favor. The interview, her quiet statement about protecting her own well-being, had worked.
It made Isolde sick.
She lowered the tablet, the screen’s glow casting harsh shadows across her pristine hospital room. Her associate stood by the window, a silhouette against the city lights, waiting.
“They see her as a victim,” Isolde said, her voice a low, venomous hum. “A gentle soul wronged by the cruel Hawthornes.”
The narrative was slipping from her grasp. Caspian was gone, a loose thread she could no longer control. Lyra was ascending. It was time to burn it all down.
“The file from St. Jude’s Medical Center,” Isolde commanded. “It’s time.”
Her associate nodded. “The full record?”
“No.” The word was sharp, precise. “Never the proof. Only the story. Proof can be debated. A story can become truth.”
She leaned back against the pillows, a faint, cruel smile touching her lips. The plan had been forming for days, a perfect weapon held in reserve. An arrow dipped in the most potent poison.
Together, they crafted the lie. It was simple. Vicious. Undeniable to a world that thrived on scandal.
Lyra, vengeful and cold after the divorce, had discovered she was pregnant. And in an act of ultimate cruelty, she had terminated the pregnancy. Not for herself, but to destroy Caspian’s only chance at a legacy. To rob a dying woman’s love of his heir.
They chose the outlet carefully. A gossip blog with a massive reach and a reputation for printing first and asking questions never.
The associate typed, his fingers flying across his phone. “The headline?”
Isolde stared at the ceiling, picturing Lyra’s face. “HEARTLESS OR HEARTBROKEN? Hawthorne Ex’s Secret Abortion After Divorce.”
She savored the words. They were perfect. They painted Lyra as either a monster or a tragic figure, but in both scenarios, the baby was gone. Caspian’s baby.
“Citing an anonymous source,” Isolde added. “Someone close to the family. Let them speculate.”
The message was sent. The arrow was loosed.
All she had to do now was wait for it to find its mark.
***
In Zara Ali’s quiet apartment, the world was blessedly small. For the first time in weeks, Lyra felt a flicker of peace. The public’s response to her statement had been a balm on a raw wound.
Zara handed her a cup of tea, her expression cautiously optimistic. “See? People are listening.”
Lyra managed a small smile, bringing the warm mug to her lips. She pulled out her phone, intending to check the comments, to drink in a little more of that fragile hope.
The headline was the first thing she saw.
It blazed across her screen in bold, accusatory letters. Her breath hitched. The words didn’t compute at first. Secret. Abortion. After Divorce.
A storm of disbelief crashed through her, followed by a wave of pure, cold horror. They knew. But they had twisted it. They had turned her most vulnerable secret into a weapon of monstrous cruelty.
A sharp, stabbing pain shot through her abdomen, so intense it made her cry out. The teacup slipped from her numb fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor.
Zara was at her side in an instant. “Lyra? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Lyra couldn’t speak. She could only point a trembling finger at the phone, its screen glowing with the lie that was tearing her apart.
***
Miles away, in a dark, anonymous motel room, Caspian Hawthorne scrolled through the news on a burner phone. He was a ghost, hunting for the truth in the digital shadows.
Then he saw it. The same headline. The same venomous story.
A sickening lurch twisted in his gut. This was Isolde’s work. He knew her brand of cruelty, the way she could spin a narrative into a garrote. He had seen it deployed against business rivals, against anyone who crossed her.
He had just never imagined it would be used like this. Against Lyra.
But a sliver of doubt, a poisonous seed Isolde had planted and cultivated for months, remained. She never wanted a family. She was always so distant. The lies echoed in his head, a phantom chorus.
He stared at the screen, the lie burning into his eyes. He felt the floor drop out from beneath him, caught between the woman he now knew was a manipulator and the woman she had convinced him was a monster.
The poisoned arrow had struck more than one heart.
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