Chapter 5 - Olivia's Counter-Attack
Sebastian didn't take the phone immediately. He stared at the screen as if it were a ticking bomb, his chest rising and falling beneath his tailored vest.
"Send it to my encrypted server," he finally whispered. "I want my legal team to review it before I pull the trigger on anything."
"Your legal team won't need to review it, Sebastian," I replied, sliding the phone back into my pocket. "Because by tomorrow morning, you won't be the only one listening to it."
That evening, the storm broke across Chicago's media landscape—not from my end, but from Olivia's.
True to her ruthless nature, Olivia Bennett didn't wait to be discarded. When a billionaire heiress and PR maven is cornered, she doesn't go quietly; she launches a nuclear strike.
By 9:00 p.m., push notifications began lighting up smartphones across the city.
“CARTER HOLDINGS HEIRESS ANNOUNCES CHARITY GALA AMIDST BASELESS EXTORTION ATTEMPTS BY LOCAL CATERER.”
The articles, syndicated across multiple Chicago lifestyle blogs and tabloids, painted a carefully orchestrated portrait: Sebastian Carter’s devoted fiancée, Olivia Bennett, was bravely standing by her man while fighting off a deranged former spouse attempting to shake down the Carter family using lookalike children and fabricated paternity claims.
Photos of me carrying grocery crates into Little Harvest Kitchen were splashed across the internet, juxtaposed with glamorous photos of Olivia in white evening gowns.
My phone started buzzing incessantly. Reporters from local news outlets staked out the front of my apartment building on the North Side.
"Mommy, why are people outside our window?" Ethan asked, peeking through the living room blinds with wide, frightened eyes.
I knelt down, pulling him and his siblings into a tight hug. "Nothing to worry about, sweethearts. Just some silly people who don't know how to mind their own business. Let's go make some popcorn and watch a movie."
As I settled the children on the couch with a blanket, my phone rang.
It wasn't a reporter. It was an incoming video call from an unrecognized, encrypted number.
I swiped to answer.
Sebastian’s face filled the screen, illuminated by the harsh blue light of his laptop in what looked like the back of a moving car. His tie was gone, his collar open, and his eyes were bloodshot.
"Have you seen the press releases?" he asked without preamble.
"I've seen them," I said calmly, walking into the kitchen to keep my voice away from the kids. "Olivia is fighting dirty. Exactly as expected."
"She didn't just fight dirty, Hannah," Sebastian said, his voice trembling with a rage I had never heard from him before. "She used Carter Holdings PR budget to syndicate those articles. She's trying to preemptively destroy your credibility before I can file for a formal paternity investigation."
"And what are you going to do about it?"
"I'm coming to your apartment," Sebastian said flatly.
"My apartment is currently surrounded by tabloid reporters and camera crews," I warned. "If you show up here tonight, you'll feed right into Olivia's narrative."
"Let them take pictures," Sebastian growled. "Let them print every front-page headline in the country. I'm done hiding behind my mother's lawyers and Olivia's PR stunts. Open your email, Hannah. I just sent you a court-admissible DNA test request drafted by the top family law firm in Illinois. We're doing this legally, publicly, and permanently."
The phone beeped with an incoming notification.
I opened my inbox. There it was: a formal petition for a court-ordered paternity determination, signed by Sebastian Carter, demanding immediate DNA testing for Ethan, Sophie, and Lucas.
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"You're moving fast," I murmured.
"I lost five years of my children's lives because I trusted the wrong people," Sebastian said, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "I'm not losing another five minutes."
