Page 25 of The Ring
I stay in the bathroom until the nausea passes, using the time to compose myself—I look like a mess. Once I feel better, we leave the bathroom, and I throw myself onto the bed, and Laurie gets back to the chaise lounge.
“Why did someone have to invent alcohol?” I say to no one in particular.
At that moment, Annabelle enters my room. “Sometimes I think the same.” One of the maids follows her, pushing a cart with tea, water, juice, eggs, bacon, and pancakes. I quickly look away from the food, as the sight of it makes my nausea return. The maid leaves the cart in front of where Laurie is sitting and quietly walks away.
I walk over to the dresser to grab my phone and sit back on my bed, facing Laurie, but as I’m about to turn it on, Annabelle snatches it from my hand.
“Hey!” I shout.
“Trust me, you don’t want to go online right now,” she says, sitting next to Laurie.
“Is… it online?” I’m dreading the answer.
Annabelle and Laurie both nod in response.
Of course it is.
“How much of the fight was recorded?” I ask, hoping the part about my mother wasn’t included.
Annabelle looks at me as if it’s her fault. “All of it.”
“Fuck,” I murmur.
She gives me a pitying look. I hate that look. No one is supposed to pity the billionaire heiress.
“Why didn’t you tell us? We’re your best friends,” she presses softly. “You can tell us anything, you know.”
“I know, it’s just—” I take a deep breath, feeling tears well up in my eyes. “The more I say it, the more real it becomes. And if I didn’t talk about it, I could pretend it didn’t happen. Because if itdidhappen—” I choke on the words, “What does that say about me? How fucked up do I have to be for the two people who were supposed to love me the most to do that to me?” My voice breaks at the end.
Annabelle gets up and walks over to my bed, but before sitting down, she pauses. “Is it okay if I sit? I know I’m not wearing clean clothes, but I really want to hug you.”
I nod. I’ll ask one of the maids to change the bedding later.
Annabelle sits beside me and side-hugs me.
“If she can sit on the bed, then so can I,” Laurie says, settling on the other side of me and giving me a playful bump, which makes me chuckle.
I rest my head on Annabelle’s shoulder, and she softly places her head on mine while Laurie holds my hand. I cry, releasing a lot of the suppressed feelings. I hate that the secret is out—it’s humiliating, disgusting, and makes me feel likesomething is wrong with me, like a part of it was my fault. But above all, it feels like it’s the final ending of TJ and me.
As much as I hate to admit it, part of why I didn’t want anyone to know was because once they did, I could never get back with TJ. If nobody knew, maybe one day I could have forgiven him, forgotten, and permanently put what happened in a box in the depths of my mind, lock it, and throw the key away. But now, that’s impossible.
“You know you’re not messed up—you’re one of the most wonderful people I know,” Annabelle says as my cries slow, gently wiping a tear from my cheek. “And who says they’re the ones who are supposed to love you the most? Because I’d like to have a talk with them, because I should be at the very top of that list.”
“As should I,” Laurie adds.
Chapter 13
Cornelia
Ibasically had to throw Annabelle and Laurie out. They didn’t want to leave me alone, but I knew they both had things to do. I wasn’t exactly thrilled, but it helped that Anthony was returning from his trip early. Apparently, when I was indisposed (too drunk to talk), he called to inform me he was cutting his trip short. He saw the video of the fight and decided to come home immediately. When I found out, I called to tell him not to bother, but he was already on the plane. He should arrive any minute now.
After Annabelle and Laurie left, I tried to distract myself and resist the temptation to go online. I asked the maids to change all the bedding and clean my bathtub. I took a long shower, then lay in bed, trying to read a book or watch a TV show, but my attention didn’t stick to either. Eventually, the temptation won. I went to my desk, opened my laptop, and watched the video of the fight. There are a pair of videos floating around. They are a little blurry, and the audio isn’t great given the music, but the people there were filling in the blanks. After that, I went down a rabbit hole, scrolling throughcomments, news articles, and anything else I could find about what had happened yesterday.
When people say never to Google yourself when you’re famous, they’re right. The articles from the tabloids ranged from titles likeThe Heir to the Winthrop Fortune Chooses Age Over Beauty—focusing on TJ and my mother—toThey Keep It in the Family,dragging in TJ, Nate, my mother, and me. Some articles were more creative than others, and a fewdefinitelytook some creative liberties. One fromCB London, the tabloid that I’m convinced profits mostly off us, even claimed we all were a quartet until TJ and my mother reduced it into a duo. There’s even a Twitter poll about who’s more attractive—my mother or me. At least I’m winning.
I hear a knock on my door. “May I come in?” Anthony’s voice comes from the other side.
“You may,” I reply as I turn around to face him.
