My vision blurs. The tablet shakes in Rosa's steady hands.
"When..." My voice doesn't work. I swallow and try again. "When did this..."
"This afternoon. Three hours ago." Rosa's voice is clinical. Professional. "It's already trending on multiple news aggregators. The Morrison PR team moved fast."
"Everyone's reading this." It's not a question. My legs feel unstable.
"Yes." She doesn't soften it. "And it's bullshit. Complete, calculated bullshit designed to discredit you before you can speak out."
The word lands in the quiet foyer like a grenade.
"I've been investigating the Morrison family's legal practices for three years," Rosa continues. "Specifically, their habit of using money and intimidation to silence women who dare to speak out against Callum's behavior."
My heart starts pounding.
"You should come inside." Sergio steps back from the door, making space. "Whatever you have to say, Jessica shouldn't hear it standing in a doorway."
Rosa doesn't hesitate. She walks into the house like she owns it, boots clicking against the hardwood, and follows us into the living room.
Stacey appears beside me, wine glass forgotten. "Jess, what's going on?"
"I don't know yet."
The fire is still burning from earlier. The room smells like cedar and smoke and the faint lingering scent of dinner. I sink onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. Sergio sits beside me. The other three position themselves strategically around the room. Protective. Alert.
Rosa sets her messenger bag on the coffee table and pulls out a folder. It's thick, stuffed with papers, and when she opens it, I see photocopies of legal documents, photographs, printouts of emails.
"Three women." She spreads the documents across the table. "All former girlfriends of Callum. All filed complaints. Harassment. Intimidation. In one case, assault."
My stomach turns over.
"The Morrison family law firm made all three cases disappear." Rosa taps one of the documents. "Settlement agreements. Non-disclosure clauses. Threats of defamation lawsuits if the women ever spoke publicly about what happened. Two of them were pressured into signing. The third was a college student who couldn't afford a lawyer and dropped the complaint out of fear."
"Jesus Christ." Pedro leans forward, scanning the papers. "How did you get these?"
"I'm very good at my job." Rosa's mouth curves slightly. "And I've been waiting three years for someone to go on the record. Someone willing to stand up publicly and tell the truth about what Callum really is."
She looks at me.
"No." The word comes out strangled. "I can't. I just saw that article. Everyone already thinks I'm crazy."
"Everyone thinks you're crazy because the Morrison family controls the narrative." Rosa pulls out her tablet and swipes through screens. "They have PR connections at every major outlet from here to Seattle. They've been spinning this story since you left him, painting you as an unstable omega who couldn't handle the pressure of marrying into their family."
"I couldn't handle being controlled," I correct, my voice sharp. "There's a difference."
"Exactly." Rosa sets down the tablet. "And that's what we tell them. That's the truth we put out there to counter their lies."
"We?" Nacho's eyes narrow. "What exactly are you proposing?"
"A press conference. Tomorrow morning, if possible. Before the Morrison family can spin this any further." Rosa pulls more documents from her bag. Affidavits. Witness statements. "I have two of the three women willing to go on the record. They're terrified, but they're ready. They've been watching the newscoverage, watching the Morrison family try to destroy another woman, and they're done staying silent."
The room goes completely still.
"You want Jessica to stand in front of cameras and reporters and tell them everything." Carlos's voice is tight. Controlled. "While the Morrison family is actively trying to discredit her."
"I want Jessica to take back her story." Rosa looks at me again. "Right now, you're the villain in their narrative. The runaway bride. The unstable omega. The homewrecker who seduced four men." She gestures to the papers spread across the table. "But with this evidence, with these other women backing you up, you become something else. You become the survivor who got away."
My throat closes.
