"Then we fight harder." Harper grabbed my hands, pulled them away from my face. "Vi, look at me. This is what they want. They want you to give up. To roll over. To accept their version of events. Are you going to let them win?"
"I don't know how to fight this," I whispered. "I don't know how to fight lies that everyone believes."
"One truth at a time." Harper's voice was fierce. "We have the emails. The bank statements. The proof. And when the time comes, when we're in court, when it matters, we're going to destroy them with facts."
I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to.
But right now, sitting in Harper's apartment while my reputation burned down around me, it felt impossible.
My phone buzzed again. Another unknown number. Another journalist probably.
But this text was different.
