Chapter 4

The next day, my phone pinged. I'd been added to a group text.

"Johnson Family Chat."

Oh, joy.

Messages started flooding in immediately. Aunts, cousins, people I'd met maybe once.

"Sarah, what is this we hear about you disrespecting Brenda?"

"You need to apologize to Kevin's mother. She was only trying to help."

"Breaking up with Kevin over a little argument? That's not how family works."

"You Austin girls are all the same, thinking you're too good for us."

They were attacking me, defending Kevin and Brenda without knowing any real facts beyond Brenda's skewed version of the hospital incident.

I took a deep breath. I wasn't going to be their punching bag.

I typed back:

"Brenda was removed by hospital security and then police for causing a disturbance and trying to force me to ingest an unidentifiable substance while I was recovering from surgery. My health decisions are mine alone."

Then, to the broader accusations:

"Kevin prioritized a hotel bill over my life-threatening medical emergency. He then slandered me online. The engagement is off. This is not up for discussion or family debate. Please remove me from this group."

A cousin I vaguely remembered, Darla, shot back: "You think you're so high and mighty. Kevin deserves better."

I replied: "He certainly does. And I deserve someone who doesn't leave me to bleed internally. Enjoy your delusions."

I then blocked every single number from the group chat.

A few days of blessed silence followed. I was discharged from the hospital, slowly recovering at home, focusing on getting my strength back and preparing to return to work.

I almost believed the worst was over.

I was wrong.

I walked into my open-plan tech office in Austin a week later. My colleagues were welcoming, aware of my surgery and the online drama Kevin had started. My manager, Linda, had been incredibly supportive.

I was just settling at my desk when the commotion started near the entrance.

A loud, familiar voice. Brenda Johnson.

She stormed into the office, her face a mask of fury. She was carrying a stack of papers.

"Sarah Miller!" she bellowed, her voice echoing through the usually buzzing workspace. "You thought you could humiliate my family and get away with it?"

Before anyone could react, she started flinging the papers into the air.

They scattered everywhere, landing on desks, the floor, in people's coffee.

Printouts.

Of me.

Intimate photos. Or what looked like them.

My stomach dropped. I felt dizzy, exposed.

"See what kind of trash my son almost married!" Brenda shrieked, her voice dripping with malice. "A cheap, shameless hussy!"

Colleagues were staring, frozen in shock.

My mind raced. I'd never taken photos like that. Never.

Brenda was still ranting, pointing at me. "She's a disgrace! She tried to ruin my Kevin!"