Settling the Score (The Summer Games #1) - R.S. Grey Page 0,123
about how you’ve stood by my side through a devastating miscarriage. Sure, you’ll do some groveling and they’ll make you pay for the affair, but in the end it’ll all work out.” She smiled. “Don’t you see, Freddie? You’ll never get rid of me.”
I shook my head and reached into the pocket of my trousers for my mobile. At first, I’d wanted to keep the press out of it, but Georgie, Dave, and my PR team had convinced me that transparency was our ally. I already had the article pulled up on my mobile. It’d been published twenty minutes earlier, as soon as Caroline’s ass had hit the chair inside the restaurant.
She took the mobile from my hand, but I was too anxious to watch her read the whole thing. The article was long—part interview, part exposé—and it touched on everything from my Olympic records to Andie and Caroline.
“It’s an exposé,” I said, reaching over and swiping my hand across the screen so an image of the fake ultrasound photo popped up, full-screen. “You see, for the last few months, I’ve largely ignored the press. They’ve been hounding my family and my manager to get to me.” I saw the mobile shaking in her hand, but I didn’t feel bad for her. “This time I answered every question they wanted to know: the forced arrangement between you and I, my involvement with Andie, and, most importantly, how you lied to the world about a baby that never existed.”
The color drained from her face and she dropped the mobile to the table. It shook the stemware, drawing the attention of the guests around us, but I trudged on, mostly because at that point, it felt bloody good to unravel the snake that’d been coiled around me for the last few months.
“Oh and we contacted Dr. Dunn—well, I should say, my lawyer contacted him. He signed an affidavit that details his involvement in your lies. Since he was so cooperative, we won’t pursue criminal charges, though he surely won’t get off so easily with the Medical Council.”
She reached for her mobile in her purse, but I shook my head.
“If you’re about to contact Sophie Boyle, I wouldn’t bother. She’s actually the person who interviewed me.” I could see the shock sink in. “Wasn’t she a friend of yours? Nice girl—bit of a mercenary, don’t you think? I would say you should pick your friends a bit more wisely in the future.”
She let go of her mobile and closed her clutch.
“Fuck you, Freddie,” she spat before sliding her chair away from the table. “This isn’t over.”
A part of me felt bad for her then—a small, tiny iota that diminished the longer she stared daggers at me.
“You’ve done this to yourself, Caroline. What happened to you?”
Her eyes were filled with such hatred. She reared back as if she were about to backhand me, but Georgie was already there, holding up her phone with one hand and catching Caroline’s arm in the other.
“Hey roomie! I’ll never forget the wonderful memories we’ve shared—this one in particular.”
Caroline shoved Georgie back so hard that Georgie nearly lost her footing and fell onto the table behind her.
“Get that camera out of my face!” Caroline yelled.
I stood up and rounded the table to put myself between the two of them. The restaurant’s manager was already approaching us, concerned about the commotion. We’d overstayed our welcome, and I had no intention of ruining the night for everyone around us. I threw more than enough money on the table and turned to escort Georgie from the restaurant.
“Let’s go, G.”
She held up her phone. “I got every single word! And that near-slap at the end. That was pure magic.”
“This isn’t over Freddie!” Caroline yelled out after me.
I shook my head and kept walking.
She was wrong. It was over, and once the shock of the news wore off, she’d realize it as well. With the article, the doctor’s signed confession, and Georgie’s video, Caroline had undone herself. She could trash me in the news all she wanted, but no one with half a brain would take her seriously after the reality of her insanity spread. She’d assumed that lies about infidelity and pregnancies would trump all, but it turned out truth burned far hotter than Caroline’s fiction. London socialite turned absolute whacko? I couldn’t have made it up better if I’d tried. Sophie Boyle had practically salivated over the phone when I’d started to lay out the story for her.