Chapter 112
When Eliana called, her voice was bubbling over with excitement. “Melanie, you owe me big time. I found the video that’ll clear everything up. I posted it on my account. You better hit that like button pronto.”
Glancing at my phone’s dwindling battery life, I scrambled for my charger.
Eliana was more capable than I’d imagined. She found the restaurant video and even footage of her half–carrying me out of there.
Worried people might doubt her, Eliana hunted down footage from several businesses
across the street. Different angles, same timeframe, there she was with Warren, helping me and Vinson leave.
On her social media, Eliana also exposed how Isla had deliberately targeted her family’s restaurant last time, all to spin lies about me.
As for why Isla would do such a thing, Eliana didn’t have to spell it out. The online detectives were on the case.
Over the phone, Eliana was ecstatic, practically fishing for compliments. “Melanie, tell me if I have the makings of a Sherlock Holmes?”
“I am justice incarnate! The dazzling moon goddess, Eliana! Your savior in shining armor!”
I flattered her. “Alright, guess I’ll just have to offer myself in thanks. How’s that sound?”
I couldn’t help but laugh along, but then she suddenly scoffed. “Melanie, you’re trying to use me, aren’t you? You’re not eyeing Warren’s medical skills, trying to keep me around for a lifeline, huh? Not that I’d mind! Lol…”
Had she not mentioned it, I might have forgotten about my illness for a moment. I ran a hand over my bald head, regretting not buying a few more wigs from the boutique owner.
Getting a suitable wig, not to mention styling it, wasn’t as easy as it seemed.
After hanging up with Eliana, I noticed the tide of online comments had shifted dramatically. “Apologize to Melanie” was trending. People weren’t just demanding apologies from Kayla but also from Clyde. And I’d received plenty of messages of apology as well.
Suddenly, it dawned on me. Becoming an influencer might cover my medical expenses if I had enough time.
As I was warming to the idea, Kayla’s call came through. I hesitated but eventually picked up. “Melanie, I’m going to kill you, you wretch! Wretch!” She was clearly beside herself with rage. I could barely make out her words through her screaming. I quietly hung up, convinced there was no reconciling with her. At this point, I figured our next meeting would likely be in court. She sent a barrage of evil texts later, but I didn’t read them. They were just angry rants,
09:21
nothing more.
With things seemingly settling down, I thought about heading back. I tried calling Clyde, but he didn’t pick up. He eventually texted me not to return to the Patterson Mansion.
I sighed. It looked like Merritt was headed for a full–blown tribunal.
Clyde’s actions were a direct blow to his reputation, admitting to infidelity, being cuckolded by his mistress, and entangled in a legal battle.
I was about to return to my apartment when Freya called. “Melanie, make sure you’re not alone or stay put at home. We’re going after Kayla, and she’s on the run. She might come after you.”
Freya sounded rushed and hung up swiftly. My hand froze on the doorknob, and I decided to heed the police’s advice.
Clyde also texted me, advising me to stay in the penthouse. And he would have anything I needed delivered to the door.
Thinking of Kayla’s furious face made me uneasy.
Then the doorbell rang, catching me off guard. I glanced at the video intercom curiously.
“Mrs. Patterson, Mr. Patterson has ordered you a delivery.”