Chapter 17 - THE LEAK
The security footage leaked on day twelve.
Not from us.
Building security had provided copies to counsel.
The salon had copies.
Celeste’s lawyer had requested one.
Somebody sent a thirty-eight-second clip to a celebrity news site.
It showed everything.
Celeste looking me over.
The line about Vera Wang.
The coffee tilt.
My stillness.
Naomi stepping forward.
Sabine moving in.
Lucian entering.
Kneeling.
The clip spread globally within hours.
That was the moment the story escaped everyone.
People slowed the coffee pour.
Added music.
Made reaction videos.
Called Celeste racist.
Called me a secret princess.
Called Lucian a billionaire knight.
Called the salon corrupt.
Called the whole thing staged.
I wanted to disappear.
Celeste called me.
“I didn’t leak it.”
“I believe you.”
She went quiet.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because this is bad for you.”
“That’s not exactly trust.”
“No.”
At least she laughed once.
Then her voice broke slightly.
“My wedding venue is getting calls.”
I closed my eyes.
That had nothing to do with accountability.
That was mob behavior.
“Your planner should tell them not to respond.”
“Two bridesmaids backed out.”
I said nothing.
“I deserve consequences,” Celeste continued. “I don’t know if I deserve strangers calling my mother’s grave.”
That sentence chilled me.
Her mother had died three years earlier.
The internet had found photographs.
Comments flooded memorial posts.
No.
Absolutely not.
I called our communications team.
Then Lucian.
Then Graham.
Within two hours, I released a statement under my own name:
The incident at Bellamy & Rowe was unacceptable. It is being addressed through direct consequences, internal review, and legal processes where appropriate. Harassment of Ms. Rutherford’s relatives, friends, wedding vendors, or deceased family members is unrelated to accountability and should stop.
Some people criticized me for defending her.
Good.
Moral clarity that depends on applause is branding.
Celeste texted:
You didn’t have to do that.
I replied:
Yes, I did.
Because I knew what it was like to become a symbol.
Her cruelty did not make every cruelty toward her virtuous.
That night Lucian came to my apartment with food.
I showed him the video once.
He closed the laptop.
“You don’t need to keep watching.”
“I’m looking for who leaked.”
“That’s not what you’re doing.”
I looked at him.
“What am I doing?”
“Trying to see whether the room looked the way it felt.”
Annoying man.
Again.
I leaned back.
“It did.”
“Yes.”
He took my hand.
“Then stop asking the footage to prove it.”
May you like
I did.
For that night.
