Eliana’s statement went live that afternoon.
Posted from an account she hadn’t touched in years.
Short.
To the point.
Eliana: The speculation surrounding me, Nathaniel Cole, and Vivian Blake has continued to spiral online.
Nathaniel and I are still legally married.
I’m posting this in the hope that this circus can finally settle down.
Everything else will become clear in time.
The post was barely up before the backlash started rolling in, exactly as expected.
“Settle down how?
Become clear when?
Why don’t you just step aside already?”
“Seriously Vivian’s dying, and you can’t even do the decent thing and file the paperwork yourself?”
“This is embarrassing.
What’s even the point of this post?
Trying to frame yourself as the victim and Vivian as the villain?
If you can’t keep your own husband interested, whose fault is that really?”
“Bringing up how long you’ve been married?
We all know exactly what you’re implying.”
“I can’t stand people who play these games in the shadows.
At least Vivian was upfront about liking Nathaniel from the start.”
“Exactly, and nothing’s even happened between them.
She just picked him up for work.
Based on the timestamps the reporters posted, she was barely upstairs long enough for anything to happen unless Nathaniel’s suddenly got some kind of superhuman speed…”
“Please.
Our CEO does NOT operate on fast-forward.”
…
The pile-on kept building, and Jonathan, sitting in her hospital room, looked at Eliana with clear reservations.
“Aren’t you just handing them more ammunition?” he asked.
She set her phone down, calm.
“Whether they comment here or somewhere else, it’s the same outcome either way.
No real difference.”
Jonathan frowned.
“I don’t get it.
This statement barely says anything, no legal language, no lawyer attached.
What was the point of even posting it?”
She looked up at him.
“This is exactly the effect I wanted.”
“It’s just a statement.
Nothing more.”
“Its only real purpose is to leave a record.”
Jonathan still didn’t fully follow, but he trusted her instincts.
If she was confident, she had a reason.
And it wasn’t going to reflect on the company anyway; the contracts were under N.
and Serena, not Eliana Hart, so none of this touched Foster Entertainment directly.
Eliana set the phone aside and turned her focus back to preparing her song for the first live episode of Voice of Heaven.
She didn’t tell Jonathan she was already preparing for two completely different outcomes.
That statement accomplished three things, quietly:
First, it confirmed publicly that she was aware of the whole scandal and every piece of backlash attached to it.
Second, it put Nathaniel and Vivian on formal notice, a clear signal that she saw exactly what was happening.
Third, the uglier the comments underneath it got, the stronger the paper trail became, documenting exactly how much damage this situation had done to her, publicly and on record.
Best case: the divorce went through cleanly once the thirty-day cooling-off period ended.
Worst case: if he tried to back out, she was fully prepared to file for divorce herself.
Either way, she was leaving Nathaniel Cole behind.
No question about it.
…
Elsewhere.
A knock sounded at the CEO’s office in Cole Tower.
Nathaniel looked up to see his assistant.
“What is it?”
The assistant crossed the room and handed him a tablet.
“Mr.
Cole, your wife issued a statement.
Posted it herself.”
His frown deepened at “herself.”
After the wedding, he and Eliana had agreed she’d run anything public past him first she wasn’t just Eliana Hart anymore, she was Mrs.
Cole.
And yet
He checked his phone.
Still nothing from her directly.
So this had been entirely her own call.
He took the tablet and read the statement.
Then scrolled into the comments and actually read them, for once.
Normally PR handled all of this and he tuned it out completely.
This was the first time he’d actually sat with what people were saying.
His first thought: she’d clearly posted this herself, which meant the stairwell fall hadn’t left her seriously hurt.
His second thought: this was still just another play for attention.
Instead of texting him directly, she’d used this account to broadcast, publicly, that they weren’t divorced yet.
She’d known exactly what she was doing that the second she posted from that account, it would reach him regardless.
“Should we loop in your wife’s team for a coordinated PR response?” the assistant asked.
Nathaniel set the tablet down.
“Ignore it.”
The assistant nodded, tucking the tablet away.
“And Ms.
Blake should we”
“I’ll handle it myself.” Nathaniel tapped the desk once with his fingers.
A brief pause, then: “What’s Marcus Reed doing these days?”
The assistant blinked, then caught on, lowering his voice instinctively.
“He went back to his hometown, sir.
After your instructions, he wouldn’t dare set foot back in Ashford City.”
He hesitated, then added, “Given the arrangements you made, Mr.
Cole, he’s not going to have an easy time anywhere he lands.”
Nathaniel made a low sound of acknowledgment.
The assistant collected the tablet and left.
Nathaniel turned his gaze toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, lost in thought.
Even on the top floor of Cole Tower, he could feel the wind pressing against the glass.
Strong gusts still rolling through Ashford City.
A citywide windstorm that had been building for days, still refusing to let up.
The city kept moving at full speed regardless everyone locked into their own separate paths.
Even through the wind, the streets below stayed packed, restless with activity.
Early April blossoms, just opened, were getting torn loose and scattered by the gusts, a storm of petals sweeping across the skyline, beautiful and a little bleak all at once.
Eventually, though, the wind died down.
Three days passed quickly.
Eliana hadn’t fully recovered, but she’d improved considerably the dizziness from the concussion, especially, had eased.
Over those three days, she’d finalized her performance piece for Voice of Heaven, along with wardrobe and makeup.
Still recovering from the miscarriage, she had to avoid wind, cold water, and anything spicy or raw so despite the warming weather, she stayed bundled in long sleeves and pants.
She’d spent most of those three days resting, in between giving a full statement to the police.
She’d handed over everything she could recall, hoping it would help them close the case quickly.
Everything, slowly, seemed to be improving like weather settling after a storm finally passed.
She would get better.
She was certain of that now.
On day six of the cooling-off period, the same day as the first live broadcast of Voice of Heaven, Eliana got up, washed, and stood in front of the mirror.
On the rack beside her hung the finished performance costume: a deep red gown built from layered petals, engineered to look like roses clustered into a single, blooming flame.
Beside it sat a matching mask, carefully hidden until now.
Together the gown, the exaggerated rose detailing on the mask, the whole look read as equal parts beautiful and dangerous.
A sharp contrast to the pale, hollowed-out woman standing next to it.
She’d lost ten pounds in a matter of days.
Already slender to begin with, she now looked almost paper-thin.
She slipped into the crimson gown, fastened the oversized rose-tassel earrings, and finally reached for the mask.
Without hesitating, she put it on.
It settled into place perfectly, erasing every trace of Eliana Hart’s face beneath it.
She looked up at the mirror one last time, and a completely different woman stared back.
Serena.