Chapter 4

Marisol

By morning, I was a trending topic. Well, more accurately, Julian and Celeste were.

The clip of Julian's hand cracking across my face had been uploaded a dozen different ways, stitched with a dozen different captions, and every single one of them ended the same way — with his voice ordering guards to drag his own wife—me—out of a building like she was trash and then, my mind boggling question.

Someone had zoomed in on Celeste's face in the background, frozen mid-smirk, and that single screenshot alone had four hundred thousand shares by the time I finished my tea.