Forgiveness, Trust & Forever

Hero

Jo's voice was still in the room after the recording stopped.
Not literally.
The laptop had gone silent. Jen had clicked pause. Anna had stopped swearing under her breath. The studio office around us was quiet except for the faint hum of the CCTV monitor and the distant noise of photographers still gathered beyond the gates.
But Jo's voice stayed anyway.
You said if the story came out, Emily would run.
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
Run.
Emily always ran.
That was what everyone thought.
Ava.
Jo.
Me.
God help me, even me.
I had spent years believing Emily ran because she was cold. Because when life got ugly, she picked the nearest exit and left me to stand in the wreckage.
But now I could feel her behind me.
Halfway down the stairs.
Still.
Silent.
Not running.
I turned.
She stood with one hand gripping the bannister, face pale, eyes wide and fixed on the laptop like it had just reached inside her and dragged out every fear she had tried to bury.
Not this time.
She didn't say it aloud.
She didn't need to.
I saw it.
And for some reason, that was the thing that nearly broke me.
Not Jo.
Not Ava.
Not the article.
Emily standing there, terrified and staying anyway.
"Play it again," I said.
My voice sounded wrong.
Flat.
Dead.
Jen looked up. "Hero-"
"Play it again."
Anna shifted beside me. "You heard it."
"I said play it again."
Emily came the rest of the way down the stairs.
"No."
One word.
Soft.
Unsteady.
But it stopped me.
I looked at her.
She was still in Mum's borrowed jumper over the wrinkled dress from last night. Barefoot now. Hair loose. Face stripped of performance. She looked younger than she had any right to and older than any of us should have made her.
"Don't," she said.
My jaw tightened. "I need to hear it."
"No, you don't." She stepped into the office doorway. "You want to punish yourself with it."
I laughed once.
It was ugly.
"I'm not the one who leaked our daughter."
She flinched at our daughter.
But she did not correct me.
"No," she said. "You're the one who trusted them."
There it was.
The knife.
And the truth.
My hands curled on the desk.
Jen's eyes flicked between us. Anna looked like she wanted to physically remove every sharp object from the room, including our mouths.
Emily swallowed, and the fight in her face shifted into something softer.
"I didn't mean-"
"Yes, you did."
She didn't deny it.
I looked back at the laptop.
The CCTV image was frozen on the hooded figure standing inside Emily's driveway, phone raised towards the building. Jen had pulled the garage angle too. Whoever it was had come through the side gate before we arrived.
They had a code.
Or a key.
Or someone had let them in.
"Who else has access?" I asked.
Emily crossed her arms. "Staff. A couple of senior dancers. Mimi. My Dad. Hayden had the old code, but I changed it two months ago."
"Why?"
Her face tightened.
I knew the answer before she said it.
"Because he kept letting himself in after arguments."
My blood heated.
Anna muttered, "Charming."
Emily shot her a look, then looked back at me. "He didn't leak this."
"You keep saying that."
"Because I know him."
"You knew Jo?"
Her face snapped shut.
Too far.
I knew it the second I said it.
Emily took a step back.
Not running.
Retreating.
There was a difference, and I had just forced it.
"Emily-"
"No," she said, eyes hardening. "You don't get to do that. Not today."
I dragged a hand through my hair. "I know."
"Do you? Because I am not the one who let those women close enough to use Eleanora as ammunition."
Anna inhaled sharply.
Jen looked down.
Emily's face changed immediately.
Regret.
But I didn't move.
Because it was true.
Again.
Everything she said today had truth in it, and I was beginning to hate how much truth could feel like being skinned alive.
"You're right," I said.
The words stunned her quiet.
I looked at the CCTV again.
"I let Jo in because it was easier than admitting I was still in love with you."
Emily went completely still.
Anna whispered, "Oh, for fuck's sake."
Jen's eyes widened.
I didn't care.
Not anymore.
There were too many lies in the room already.
Too many narratives.
Too many people deciding what parts of me would sell better.
My daughter was upstairs asleep in Emily's room while two women had tried to weaponise the ugliest chapters of her existence because one wanted me and the other wanted revenge.
I was done editing myself.
Emily stared at me.
Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.
I kept going because stopping would kill me.
"I let the studio push Jo because it made everyone else happy. The fans. The director. The producers. Jo." I swallowed. "And because if the whole world believed I belonged to someone else, maybe I'd start believing it too."
Emily's eyes shone.
"Hero."
"No." My voice cracked, and I hated it. "You wanted to give Eleanora away, and I hated you for it. I hated you because I thought you were giving away the last piece of us. But I still loved you. Even in court. Even when I wanted to win. Even when I walked out with her and told myself I didn't need you anymore."
Silence.
Heavy.
Terrible.
Alive.
Emily shook her head once, barely.
"Don't say this now."
"When should I say it?"
"Not when the world is falling apart."
"That's the only time we ever tell the truth."
Her laugh was broken. "No, Hero. That's the only time you do. You wait until everything is burning, and then you say the thing that makes it impossible for me to breathe."
I stepped closer.
She didn't step back.
"I'm not asking you for anything."
"Yes, you are."
"No."
"You are." Her voice trembled. "You always are, even when you don't mean to. You look at me like if I just loved you enough, I'd suddenly know how to be her mother."
My chest tightened.
Upstairs, the floor creaked softly.
We both looked towards the ceiling.
Eleanora.
Still quiet.
Still asleep.
Still somehow the centre of every wound in the room.
I lowered my voice. "I don't need you fixed by tonight."
"But you need me fixed eventually."
I couldn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Emily's eyes closed.
"There it is."
"I want you in her life."
"I know."
"I want you in mine."
Her eyes opened.
The words landed.
I let them.
Whatever happened next, at least they were true.
Before Emily could respond, my phone rang from Jen's hand.
Jo.
Her name lit the screen like an accusation.
Nobody moved.
Anna broke the silence.
"Well. That timing is demonic."
Jen looked at me. "Do you want to answer?"
No.
Yes.
I wanted to throw the phone at the wall.
I wanted to hear Jo deny it.
I wanted her to explain how that recording could exist and still somehow not mean what I thought it meant.
I wanted to go back twelve hours and never let Emily leave that office with me, because then maybe she would not be here watching me realise how badly I had misjudged another woman.
The phone rang out.
Then immediately started again.
Jo.
I held out my hand.
Jen hesitated.
"Hero," Emily said quietly.
I looked at her.
She shook her head. "Not angry."
I almost smiled.
"What?"
"Don't answer angry."
Too late.
But I took the phone anyway.
Then I answered.
For one second, all I heard was breathing.
Then Jo's voice.
"Hero."
She sounded like she had been crying.
A month ago, that would have pulled guilt from me. I would have softened. I would have said her name gently. I would have let her explain before I understood why.
Now all I saw was Eleanora's face in that photo.
Tiny.
Unaware.
Threatened.
"What did you do?"
A sob caught in her throat. "I didn't want it to go this far."
Emily looked away.
Anna mouthed, unbelievable.
My grip tightened around the phone. "That's not an answer."
"I didn't release the photos."
"But you released the story?"
Silence.
My heart sank.
Even though I already knew.
Even though I had heard the recording.
There was something brutal about the silence of someone guilty.
"Jo."
"I thought..." She broke off, crying harder now. "I thought if people knew what she'd done, you'd stop protecting her."
Emily's face went white.
I turned slightly away, not because I wanted privacy from her, but because I could not bear the look on her face.
"What she'd done?" I repeated.
"She tried to give your baby away, Hero."
Our daughter.
I closed my eyes.
"She was scared."
"She hurt you!"
"So you hurt my daughter?"
"No!" Jo's voice cracked. "No, I would never hurt Eleanora."
"You handed her existence to the press."
"I didn't give them her name."
"Do you want a thank you?"
She sobbed again.
I felt nothing.
That frightened me.
"I loved you," she whispered.
Emily inhaled softly behind me.
My chest tightened, but not for the reason Jo wanted.
"Jo."
"No, listen to me. Please. I was there. I was the one beside you when you were exhausted, when filming was hard, when you missed calls from lawyers, when you had to leave set because something happened with Eleanora. I watched you fall apart over a woman who didn't even want the child you were killing yourself for."
I opened my eyes.
Across the room, Emily looked like every word had landed.
I wanted to stop Jo.
I should have stopped her.
But some ugly part of this needed to be heard.
Not because Emily deserved it.
Because I needed to understand the shape of Jo's betrayal.
"You let the studio use us," Jo continued, voice shaking. "You smiled at me. You touched me for cameras. You protected me from fans when they got too much. You made me feel like maybe, if Emily was finally gone, you'd see me."
I leaned against the desk.
"Jo, the cameras weren't real."
"They were real to me."
A horrible silence followed.
I believed her.
That was the worst part.
Her feelings were real.
Her choices were still unforgivable.
"Ava said Emily would run," Jo whispered. "She said once the story came out, Emily would prove she hadn't changed. That you'd finally see she wasn't worth destroying yourself over."
Ava.
My ex-lover.
My mistake that had cost me Emily's trust.
Still poisoning the ground years later.
"And you believed her?"
"I wanted to."
I laughed under my breath.
It hurt.
"Did you send the threats?"
"No."
"Did you send the photos?"
"No, I swear."
"Did Ava?"
"I don't know."
"Jo."
"I don't know!" she cried. "Ava had someone at the paper. She said she could control it. She said it would just be the article, no names, no pictures of Eleanora. Then this morning she stopped answering me."
Jen was already typing furiously on her laptop.
Anna had gone very still.
Emily stood near the door, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the floor as if the room had become somewhere else entirely.
"Who else was involved?" I asked.
"No one. Just Ava and the journalist. I gave her what I knew, but Ava had more. Court details. Old messages. Things from before I even knew you properly."
My stomach twisted.
Ava had not just used Jo.
She had built this over time.
A slow little revenge dressed up as concern.
"She hates Emily," Jo whispered. "You know that."
"I know."
"She hates that you always go back to her, even when you don't."
My eyes moved to Emily.
She was looking at me now.
Something fragile crossed her face.
I looked away first.
"What did you give her?" I asked.
Jo went quiet.
"Jo."
"PR schedules," she said quietly. "Hotel details. The opening night. That you'd be there."
The room went cold.
Emily's head snapped up.
"You told them where he would be?" Anna demanded.
Jo heard her and started crying again.
"I didn't know Emily would go back with him."
"No," Emily said suddenly.
Her voice was flat.
Everyone looked at her.
She stepped towards the phone.
"No, but you hoped I would be there, didn't you?"
Jo said nothing.
Emily's face hardened.
"You wanted him to see me with Hayden. You wanted me upset. You wanted me trapped in a room where Hero had to pick between the poor co-star who loves him and the ex who keeps ruining everything."
"Emily," Jo whispered.
I started to lower the phone.
Emily shook her head at me.
No.
Let her hear me.
So I did.
Emily came closer, eyes bright and deadly.
"You know what the funny thing is, Jo? If you'd waited, I probably would have done exactly what you wanted." Her voice trembled but did not break. "I would have run. I would have left him with Eleanora and convinced myself it was safer that way. I would have gone back to Hayden because he was easy to disappoint, and I already knew how to be the worst version of myself there."
My throat tightened.
Emily looked at me once.
Then back at the phone.
"But you brought my daughter into it."
My daughter.
The words hit me so hard I almost lost my grip on the phone.
Emily heard herself say it.
Her lips parted.
For a second, every wall fell.
Then she gathered herself.
"You brought a one-year-old baby into your jealousy," she said, voice shaking now. "You let strangers shout questions outside the house she was in. You let them scare her. You let them photograph places she might be. So whatever you think I am, whatever Ava told you I am, understand this."
She took another step closer.
"I may be a shit mother, but I am still her mother. And if you come anywhere near her again, I will make you wish the press was the thing you had to fear."
Silence.
Complete.
Then Jo cried softly on the other end of the line.
Emily stepped back, face pale like the words had cost her everything.
I stared at her.
Her mother.
She had said it.
Not because I forced it.
Not because court ordered it.
Because someone threatened Eleanora, and somewhere beneath the fear, something had answered.
My chest hurt.
"Hero," Jo whispered.
I lifted the phone back to my ear.
"Give Jen everything. The journalist's name. Ava's number. Messages. Emails. All of it."
"I'll lose my job."
"You should have thought of that before you used my child as bait."
She sobbed.
I did not soften.
"And Jo?"
"What?"
"Do not call me again unless it's to send proof."
I ended the call.
For a second, no one moved.
Then Anna exhaled a long, vicious breath.
"Well. That was worse than expected."
Jen nodded, already working. "But useful."
I looked at Emily.
She was staring down at her own hands.
Like she didn't recognise them.
Like she didn't recognise herself.
I wanted to go to her.
I didn't know if I was allowed.
"You said my daughter," I said quietly.
She closed her eyes.
"Don't."
"I'm not making it a thing."
"You are absolutely making it a thing."
I smiled despite everything.
Tiny.
Painful.
She opened her eyes and glared at me.
"It slipped out."
"Okay."
"I was angry."
"Okay."
"It doesn't mean I suddenly know how to do this."
"I know."
"Stop being reasonable. It's irritating."
The smile almost became real.
Almost.
Then Eleanora cried upstairs.
All humour vanished.
Emily's face changed before she could hide it.
Fear first.
Then panic.
Then that same awful pull.
I moved towards the stairs automatically.
Emily caught my wrist.
I froze.
Her hand was cold.
Her fingers trembled.
"I'll go," she said.
The room went still.
Anna looked at Jen.
Jen looked at me.
I looked at Emily.
"You don't have to."
"I know."
She didn't look sure of that.
She looked terrified.
But she did not let go of my wrist.
"I'll go," she said again. "You need to deal with this."
"Emily-"
"If she gets worse, I'll call you."
I couldn't breathe.
"You can call me even if she doesn't get worse."
Her mouth trembled.
Then she nodded once.
She released me and turned towards the stairs.
I watched her go.
Every instinct in me wanted to follow.
To hover.
To protect Eleanora from Emily's fear and Emily from Eleanora's need.
But I stayed.
Because she had asked for a chance without asking.
Because not running meant nothing if I chased her down every hallway to make sure she did it correctly.
Upstairs, Eleanora's cries rose.
Then softened.
Not stopped.
Softened.
Emily murmured something I couldn't hear.
A broken little sound left Eleanora.
Then Emily again.
Quiet.
Uncertain.
Trying.
I put both hands on the desk and bowed my head.
Anna came to stand beside me.
"Breathe," she said.
"I am."
"You're really not."
I forced air into my lungs.
It shook going in.
Jen's laptop pinged.
She leaned closer to the screen.
"Jo's sending files."
My head lifted.
"What files?"
"Screenshots first. Messages with Ava. A contact at News Today." Jen clicked quickly, eyes scanning. "There's a name."
"Who?"
Jen's face changed.
"What?"
She looked up at me.
"It's not just a journalist."
Anna moved closer.
Jen turned the screen.
I read the email chain once.
Then again.
My stomach turned.
Because halfway down the thread was a forwarded message.
Not from Ava.
Not from Jo.
From someone at the studio.
My director's assistant.
Subject line:
Re: Controlled disruption strategy
Anna swore softly.
Jen kept scrolling.
The words appeared on the screen, clean and corporate and somehow uglier than every threat that had come before.
If the child angle comes out before production begins, we can reframe him publicly through Jo. Vulnerability sells. Redemption sells. The ex must remain the instability factor.
My vision went white at the edges.
Anna gripped my arm.
"Hero."
I read the next line.
Ava says Emily will crack under pressure. Jo can be positioned as the safe romantic contrast.
The room disappeared.
The article.
The threats.
Jo.
Ava.
My director.
All of them circling the same conclusion.
Emily as the problem.
Jo as the solution.
Eleanora as the leverage.
Upstairs, my daughter whimpered.
Then Emily's voice came faintly through the ceiling.
"Shh. I know. I know, sweetheart."
Sweetheart.
I closed my eyes.
Something inside me settled.
Not calmly.
Not gently.
Like a blade finding its place.
When I opened them, Anna was watching me.
"What are you going to do?"
I looked at the laptop.
Then at my phone.
Then towards the stairs where Emily was trying to soothe our daughter.
I thought about the contract.
The director.
The franchise.
The career everyone kept telling me had to come first.
I thought about Jo crying because the fantasy had been real to her.
Ava laughing because she thought Emily would run.
My daughter's face in a photo sent by a stranger.
And Emily upstairs, terrified and staying.
"I'm going to make a statement," I said.
Jen looked up sharply. "Legal hasn't-"
"Not through legal."
Anna's eyes narrowed. "Hero."
I picked up my phone.
"My director wanted a story."
I opened the camera.
My hands were steady now.
Too steady.
"So I'll give him one."
Anna stepped in front of me.
"Think."
"I have."
"No. Think past the next ten seconds. If you do this angry, they'll use it."
I looked at her.
"I'm not angry."
She stared at me.
Then swallowed.
Because that was the problem.
I had moved beyond anger.
From upstairs, Eleanora made a softer sound.
Almost settled.
Emily murmured again.
I glanced towards the ceiling.
Then back at the phone.
"I'm not naming Eleanora," I said. "I'm not dragging Emily. I'm not giving them details. But I am ending this fake romance. I am telling them my daughter is not a marketing tool. And I am making it very clear that anyone who comes near either of them will answer to me."
Jen's voice was cautious. "Either of them?"
I looked at the staircase.
Emily appeared at the top before I could answer.
Eleanora was against her chest.
Awake.
Not calm exactly, but no longer crying.
Emily held her awkwardly, one arm too stiff, the other hand spread carefully over her back like she was afraid to move wrong and shatter her.
Eleanora's head rested against her shoulder.
My heart stopped.
Emily looked down at us, eyes wide, almost panicked.
"She wouldn't settle in the cot," she said quickly. "I tried the rabbit, and then she kept reaching, and I didn't know if I should pick her up, but she was crying, and I-"
"You picked her up," I said.
Emily swallowed.
"Yes."
Eleanora's tiny hand had curled into the neckline of Emily's jumper.
Not mine.
Hers.
Emily looked close to tears.
"I don't know what I'm doing."
I smiled then.
Small.
Real.
"Neither did I."
Her face changed.
Eleanora shifted, cheek rubbing against Emily's shoulder.
Emily froze, then carefully adjusted her.
Not natural.
Not yet.
But gentle.
So painfully gentle.
I forgot the statement.
The studio.
Jo.
Everything.
For one perfect second, I remembered something instead.
The first time I had held Eleanora and felt no lightning. No instant certainty. Just terror and awe and the horrifying realisation that love was not always a feeling first.
Sometimes it was a decision made with shaking hands.
Emily stood on the stairs with our daughter in her arms.
Shaking.
Staying.
Trying.
And I knew with absolute certainty that if the whole world wanted to turn her into the villain, they would have to get through me first.
My phone buzzed.
Another message.
Unknown number.
Last chance. Noon is close.
I looked at Emily.
Then at Eleanora.
Then I lifted the phone and pressed record.
"Hero," Anna warned.
I held her gaze.
"This is me thinking."
Then I turned the camera on myself.
And for the first time since the article broke, I stopped letting other people speak for my life.