Above the Gossip

Sunlight pierced through the gaps in the heavy blackout curtains, striking Valerie straight in the eyes. She groaned, pulling the silk duvet over her head. Her temples throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache. Two cocktails the night before, combined with the emotional exhaustion of her breakdown, left her nursing a wicked hangover.

Just as she managed to find a comfortable position, her phone buzzed sharply on the nightstand. The persistent vibration grated against her nerves.

She reached out blindly, her fingers fumbling over the smooth surface of the table until she grasped the device. She squinted at the screen. It was Melanie.

Swiping to answer, Valerie brought the phone to her ear. "What is it now, Ms. Famous?" she rasped, her voice thick with sleep and irritation. She was never a morning person, and her temper was notoriously short right after waking up.

For three long years in the Thorne household, she had forced herself to be mild, accommodating, and endlessly patient. She had swallowed her annoyance to maintain the image of a perfect, submissive wife. Now that the divorce papers were signed, the cage was open. She was as irritable as a beast finally freed from captivity, and she had zero intention of hiding it.

"Whoa, did I wake you up?" Melanie asked, her tone sheepish but vibrating with pent-up energy.

Valerie rolled her eyes, throwing off the duvet and sitting up. She pressed two fingers to her throbbing temples, massaging them in slow circles. "Get to the point. What is it?"

"Your ex-husband and his precious first crush are trending," Melanie rushed out, unable to hold it in any longer. "The whole internet is blowing up. Everyone is debating whether you two divorced on peaceful terms or if both of you cheated. You need to see this."

The remnants of Valerie's sleep-induced haze vanished. A cold, flat indifference settled over her features. She didn't feel a pang of heartbreak, nor did she feel the urge to cry like she had the night before.

"Melanie," Valerie said, her voice dropping to a cool, warning register. "You just called him my ex-husband yourself. Since we both acknowledge he is in the past, there is absolutely no need for you to risk your life bringing up his name to me ever again."

Silence stretched on the other end of the line for a brief second. Melanie rubbed her neck awkwardly, clearly sensing she had stepped on a landmine. "I'm sorry, Val! My bad. You can go back to sleep! I won't disturb you anymore!" Melanie blurted out before the line went dead.

Valerie tossed her phone onto the mattress. She let out a long breath and stared at the blank wall opposite her bed. Melanie's words lingered in the quiet room, but they didn't cut deep. The news of Dominic and Chloe trending online was inevitable.

Restless now, she slipped her feet into her plush slippers. "Nova," she called out, referring to the smart home system. "Boil some water."

"Right away, Ms. Vance," the robotic voice chimed in.

Valerie shuffled into the master bathroom. She braced her hands on the edge of the marble sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled bird's nest. Her skin looked dull, the obvious aftermath of crying and drinking late into the night. She frowned, hating the messy, defeated look on her face.

You just got a divorce, Valerie, she reminded herself silently. It is not the end of the world. He is nothing to you now.

Half an hour later, fresh from a hot shower, she sat at the kitchen island with a steaming mug of water. Out of sheer curiosity, she unlocked her phone and tapped into Twitter. The trending tab was dominated by blurry paparazzi photos of Dominic and Chloe sharing a late-night meal.

She would be lying if she claimed she felt absolutely nothing, but the sting was superficial. She had expected this exact scenario to play out. Reading the dramatic speculation about their midnight date, a dry, cynical laugh escaped her lips. She closed the app without reading the comments.

Since we're divorced, Dominic and Chloe's midnight escapades have absolutely nothing to do with me. She was finally moving on.

After a light breakfast, Valerie took her time applying her makeup. She smoothed on a flawless foundation, added a sharp wing of eyeliner, and painted her lips a bold, confident shade. She slipped into a long, elegant blue dress that hugged her curves effortlessly.

Grabbing her keys, she headed down to the garage. She bypassed the standard luxury sedans and walked straight to the dusty red Ferrari tucked in the corner. She hadn't driven it in years, having deemed it too flashy for the modest image she tried to uphold for Dominic.

The powerful engine roared to life, a sound that sent a thrill of adrenaline through her veins.

She drove straight to Phantom Entertainment. The towering glass building gleamed in the morning sun. Walking through the sleek lobby, her silver high heels clicked rhythmically against the polished marble floor.

The last time she was here, Jace had escorted her in through a side entrance, and Melanie had snuck her out. Now, she walked right through the main doors.

The front desk receptionist looked up. Recognizing the designer dress and the aura of untouchable confidence, the young woman instantly stood up, her posture radiating utmost respect.

"Good morning, Ms. Vance. Are you here for Ms. Hayes?" the receptionist asked with a bright, welcoming smile.

Valerie smiled back, a genuine curve of her lips. "Yes, I am. Is she in?"

"She arrived about an hour ago. Please, let me call the elevator for you."

"Thank you," Valerie nodded gracefully.

Watching the receptionist scurry to press the VIP elevator button, a wave of self-deprecation washed over Valerie. She remembered the countless times she had visited Apex Group, Dominic's company. The receptionists there had always treated her with thinly veiled disdain. They had looked at her like she was a nuisance, a gold-digger clinging to a powerful man.

How badly did Dominic treat me in front of his staff to make his own receptionists look down on his wife? Valerie thought, stepping into the elevator. Well, it was my own fault too. Why did I have to act like such a pathetic, submissive simp? I bent over backward for them. In the end, all that people-pleasing earned me was a divorce.

The elevator dinged softly, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She stepped out onto the executive floor and headed down the hallway toward her private office space. Before she could reach the door, Brenda, Melanie's sharp-eyed assistant, hurried over.

"Ms. Vance!" Brenda gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. "What brings you to the office today?"

"Just dropping by to check on things," Valerie replied easily, pointing toward the heavy wooden door. "Is she busy? Can I go in?"

"Oh, please do! Lanie is in there alone right now," Brenda said, lowering her voice and casting a nervous glance around the empty hallway. "And since you're here, could you do me a massive favor? Please persuade her to lay low for a while. The paparazzi have been hawking her every move lately. I spent half the night putting out fires and calling in favors just to stop yesterday's incident from hitting the tabloids."

Valerie gave Brenda a sympathetic nod. As a major, silent shareholder of Phantom Entertainment, she knew exactly how chaotic Melanie could be. Brenda was constantly cleaning up the starlet's messes. Melanie was a free spirit, and the only two people on earth who could successfully leash her were Valerie and Nathan.

"Thanks for your hard work, Brenda. I'll make sure to have a word with her and tell her to behave," Valerie assured her.

Brenda slumped against the wall in relief. "Thank you so much, Ms. Vance. I won't hold you up any longer."

Valerie turned the brass handle and pushed the door open. Inside, Melanie was sprawled across the velvet sofa, her eyes glued to a tablet screen. Her face was a canvas of exaggerated outrage and glee, fully living up to her status as an award-winning actress.

"What exactly are you staring at?" Valerie asked, walking over. She settled onto the sofa beside Melanie, casually smoothing out the fabric of her blue dress and crossing her legs.

Melanie jumped slightly, clearly not expecting Valerie to show up in person. Then, her eyes lit up with chaotic excitement. "I am reading the juiciest gossip about your ex-husband and his precious first crush! Honestly, the articles they're paying for are almost touching. Such a tragic love story!"

Valerie shot her a warning, sideways glance. "What did you just say?"

A shiver ran down Melanie's spine. Recognizing the danger in Valerie's calm tone, Melanie instantly sat up straight, slapping a mask of righteous fury onto her face. "I said they are absolutely shameless! How can they parade around town the second Dominic signs the divorce papers? What, are they terrified the public won't recognize them as true soulmates? It makes me sick!"

Valerie ignored the theatrics. She leaned forward, grabbing a clean mug from the coffee table, and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee from the carafe. "You talk way too much, Melanie."

Sensing she was losing ground, Melanie scrambled closer. "Okay, okay, I was wrong! But listen, I have a plan to make it up to you. I used some serious connections to score two exclusive VIP tickets to Chloe Frost's upcoming art exhibition. You need to go. Take Jace with you and parade him right in front of their faces!"

Valerie paused, her coffee cup halfway to her mouth.

"Dominic isn't even all that," Melanie continued, waving a hand dismissively. "He's just secondhand goods you tossed in the trash. Jace is younger, hotter, and has way more star power."

Valerie arched an eyebrow, looking entirely unimpressed. "I dare you to march up to Dominic and say those exact words to his face."

Melanie deflated instantly. She didn't have a death wish. Dominic Thorne was ruthless in the business world, and crossing him directly was a terrible idea. "We are civilized women, Val. It's beneath us to throw a public tantrum. Instead, we strike where it hurts—their egos. We embarrass them with sheer class and refinement. Trust me, if you walk into that gallery with a superstar like Jace King on your arm, the internet will lose its mind, and everyone will side with you!"

"Drop it," Valerie said, taking a sip of her dark roast. "Stop trying to drag Jace into my personal mess. Did you not read the comments under his last post? His fans are rabid. Half of them want to be his girlfriend. If I show up with him, I'll be torn apart online."

"That doesn't matter!" Melanie insisted, leaning in. "Jace is transitioning. He wants to be recognized as a serious, talented actor, not just an idol. He needs to shed that obsessive girlfriend-fanbase anyway. This is a win-win."

Valerie stared at her best friend, almost believing the ridiculous logic for a fleeting second. She set her mug down with a clink. "Cut the crap. Tell me the real reason. What game are you playing?"

Melanie bit her lip, looking uncharacteristically guilty. "Uh... well, my sources told me that Chloe explicitly invited Dominic to be her special guest of honor."

Valerie froze. The casual atmosphere in the room evaporated. After a few agonizing seconds, she slowly turned her head to look at Melanie. "Are you seriously trying to entertain yourself by throwing me into a room with those two?"

Melanie dodged Valerie's sharp gaze, suddenly very interested in the ceiling. She threw an arm over Valerie's shoulder, her tone turning uncharacteristically serious. "Don't look at me like that, Val. Think about it. Think about all the mistreatment, the snide remarks, and the sheer disrespect you swallowed for three years while living with the Thorne family. And Dominic ignoring you was the root cause of it all. They treated you like dirt because he let them."

Valerie remained silent, her jaw tight.

"It's not just Dominic," Melanie pushed on, her voice rising with indignation. "Chloe didn't just invite him. She invited Evelyn and Bianca too. The whole Thorne family is going. Do you have any idea what people in their circle are saying about you right now? They're laughing. They're whispering that even though you gave three years of your life to that family, you mean absolutely nothing compared to a simple piece of cardstock from Chloe Frost."

The mention of Bianca and the Thorne family's blatant disrespect acted like a key, unlocking a vault of painful memories Valerie had tried to bury.

She was instantly transported back to two years ago. It was her twenty-fifth birthday.

At the time, she had still harbored hope. Melanie had helped her meticulously plan a small, elegant birthday party at a high-end venue. Valerie had made a massive decision: she was going to use that night to finally tell Dominic and his family the truth about her background and her wealth. She wanted to bridge the gap, to prove she wasn't the penniless nobody they thought she was.

She had sent out the invitations with genuine hope.

But when the night arrived, the venue remained painfully empty. Aside from Melanie, Nathan, and a few close friends from her own circle, not a single member of the Thorne family showed up. Not Dominic. Not Evelyn. Not Bianca.

The real blow came hours later.

Bianca, cruel and petty, had taken a screenshot of a private group chat she created with the high-society guests Valerie had invited. Bianca had sent a mocking message to the group, asking if anyone was actually going to attend the charity case's party.

The responses in the screenshot were a wall of unanimous text: No. No. Of course not.

Bianca had leaked that screenshot to the entire upper-class circle. By midnight, everyone was laughing at Valerie. They mocked her for overestimating her own worth, for foolishly believing that marrying a rich man and wearing designer dresses made her one of them. They found it utterly ridiculous that she dared to organize a birthday bash like she belonged in their world.

A fresh wave of visceral misery welled up in Valerie's chest as the ghost of that humiliation washed over her. The sting of rejection, the sound of their phantom laughter—it all burned.

She lowered her gaze, staring blindly at the dark surface of her coffee. The pain threatened to choke her, but she swiftly shoved it down, locking it away behind an iron fortress of resolve. "There's no point in going with Jace," she murmured, her voice laced with cold detachment. "It won't change the past."

Melanie clicked her tongue loudly, sensing the shift in Valerie's mood. "What do you mean there's no point? Listen to me. Bianca is a notoriously obsessed fan of Jace King. She practically worships him."

Valerie looked up, her interest slightly piqued.

"Recently," Melanie whispered, a wicked grin spreading across her face, "Chloe's PR company reached out to Jace's team. They begged for a collaboration. They wanted Jace to make an appearance at this exact art exhibition to boost her profile. We rejected them flat out."

Melanie grabbed Valerie's hands, her eyes gleaming with vindictive delight. "Think about the poetry of it, Val! Two years ago, you couldn't get the Thorne family to show up to your party. Today, they couldn't get Jace King to show up to their precious event. But you can walk in with him on your arm! Oh, this is entirely too thrilling. It's the perfect slap in the face!"

Valerie stared at her best friend. The misery that had gripped her chest completely evaporated, replaced by a dark, calculated anticipation. She gave Melanie a slow, meaningful look.

"You really amaze me sometimes," Valerie commented softly. "You've even figured out how to set the perfect trap for me."

Melanie blinked innocently. "Who, me? No, I wouldn't dare."

A heavy, electric silence hung between them for a long moment. Melanie practically vibrated with impatience.

Unable to hold herself back a second longer, Melanie squeezed Valerie's hands. "So? Are you going or not?"

Valerie picked up her mug. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her coffee. As the warm liquid slid down her throat, a genuine, razor-sharp smile touched her lips.

"Of course," Valerie said smoothly, her eyes practically shining with the promise of flawless execution. "Why wouldn't I go?"

She leaned back against the plush velvet, her mind already racing with the details of her revenge. She could picture it perfectly. She eagerly anticipated exactly how purple Bianca's face would turn, and just how furious the spoiled girl would be, when she realized her ultimate idol belonged exclusively to the ex-sister-in-law she had treated like trash.