Chapter 5

The next day, Fernando sent me an article on WhatsApp titled "Financial Planning in Marriage: Is Splitting Everything Down the Middle Really That Bad?"

I didn't bother to open it.

On the third day, he sent me a screenshot of a relationship influencer's post. The gist was that splitting bills in a marriage was actually a way to respect each other's independence.

I put him on mute.

On the fourth day, my ex-mother-in-law called again. This time from a different number.

As soon as I picked up, Rosalie started yelling, "Alivia Bradley, stop being so difficult. Fern is doing you a favor by coming back to you."

I said, "I don't need his so-called favor." Then I hung up and blocked her again.

On the fifth day, things got more ridiculous. When I got home from work, I saw a woman I didn't recognize standing at the entrance of my building. She looked to be in her fifties, with curly hair, and was dressed very nicely.

She called out to me, "You're Alivia, right? I'm Fern's aunt, Grace."

I stopped in my tracks.

I'd only met Grace once, at the wedding, but we hadn't really talked.

"Grace, is there something you need?" I asked.

She gave me a warm smile. "It's nothing serious. I heard you and Fern had a bit of a disagreement. I understand young people always have a falling out. And I want to give you some honest advice—"

"Grace," I cut her off, "we're not having a falling out. We're divorced. The papers are signed."

Her smile froze for a second. "I know. But isn't it possible to get back together, maybe remarry?"

"That's not going to happen." I nodded at her. "It's cold out. You should head home."

I went upstairs, opened the door, closed it behind me, and locked it.

Leaning against the door, I couldn't help but laugh.

Did the Werner family have some kind of family pow-wow or something? Now they were all taking turns showing up to convince me to get back with Fernando. Why were they so desperate?

I pulled out my phone and texted Kenna. [The Werners keep showing up at my door lately. It's getting annoying.]

She replied instantly: [Want me to get a lawyer to send them a cease-and-desist letter?]

I thought for a second. [Not yet. Let's see what other tricks they've got up their sleeve.]

Kenna sent me a meme of a cat eating popcorn.

Kenna: [Grabbing popcorn and waiting for the show. By the way, are you free tomorrow? There's something about the copyright I need to talk to you about face-to-face.]

Alivia: [Sure, tomorrow at noon.]

The next day at noon, Kenna met me at a pizza shop near my office.

As soon as she sat down, she slid her phone over to me. "Check this out."

On the screen was a screenshot of a trending topic on Twitter. [Gael Chapman's new book is getting a TV adaptation.]

"Who let it out?" I asked.

"Someone from Mercer Creative dropped the news early. They didn't use your real name, but it's already trending," Kenna replied.

I pushed the phone back to her. "That's out of my hands. As long as they don't expose my real name, I'm good."

"That won't happen. We signed a confidentiality agreement. But there's something else." Kenna lowered her voice. "The publisher saw the trending topic too.

"Your chief editor, David Merritt, asked me this morning if I was the one handling Gael's copyright."

I paused with my pizza halfway to my mouth. "What did you say?"

"I told him I was and asked why. He said he wanted to discuss a possible collaboration. I didn't respond, but I'm pretty sure he'll find out about you soon."

I frowned.

I'd always been super careful about this. The publisher put out The Last Days of Avalon, but everything went through Kenna's copyright company, using Gael's name.

Kenna did all the talking. David knew Kenna was the agent, but he had no clue the author was right next door in his office.

But now that the TV adaptation news was out, he was definitely going to get curious. Publishing was a small world. It wouldn't take much snooping before he figured out it was me.

"So, what do we do?" I asked.

Kenna was cool as ever, munching on her pizza. "You've got two choices. The first is to keep it under wraps, but that won't last forever.

"The second is to tell Mr. Merritt yourself, so he doesn't hear it from someone else and feel like you're snubbing him."

I thought for a moment. "Let's keep it under wraps for now. If Mr. Merritt comes to me about it, I'll handle it then."

Kenna nodded. "Alright, your call. But be ready. If your real identity gets out, your colleagues at the publishing house..."

"I know."

I took a bite of my pizza.

The taste was average.

I was wondering how Fernando would react if he found out.

Suddenly, I found myself wanting to see his reaction, not for revenge, not to brag, but out of pure curiosity.

Imagine the look on his face when he finally realized the woman he treated like a free maid was actually worth a hundred times more than him. That would be a sight to see.

Eh, not important.

I kept eating my pizza.

*****

Things moved faster than I expected.

On Wednesday afternoon, David called me into his office again.

This time, he closed the door. "Alivia, I need to ask you something. I hope you'll be honest with me."

I stood there, already knowing what was coming. "Go ahead, Mr. Merritt."

"Gael is you, isn't it?"

I didn't answer right away. I looked at him for three seconds. "How did you figure it out?"

He leaned back in his chair, and his hands crossed over his stomach. His expression was hard to read. "Everyone here knows Kenna was your college friend. Gael's agent is Kenna.

"When we signed the contract for The Last Days of Avalon, I never met the author, but in the emails, there were certain turns of phrase, certain writing habits..." He paused. "They were exactly like the emails you usually send me."

I didn't try to deny it. "Mr. Merritt, I'd prefer if this stayed between us at the office."

He nodded quickly. "I understand, don't worry, your secret's safe with me. But Alivia, actually, maybe I should start calling you Gael—"

"Come on, Mr. Merritt, I'm still Alivia."

He waved it off, straightened up, and his expression turned serious. "I'm not going to ask how much you sold your rights for, but I know Andrew doesn't make cheap offers.

"I'm surprised that you're still sticking around as an editor. I really respect that. You're a good editor. But there's something I need to tell you."

I waited to say.

He continued, "The company really is downsizing. With that streamlining plan I mentioned before, you were supposed to be safe.

"But this morning, the marketing team had a suggestion." He hesitated. "They want you to leave voluntarily."

"What do you mean?" I asked.