3.Chapter 3 The Scape Goat

“Byron, are you crazy?” Sylvia shot back. “I’m here to divorce you, not clean up your childhood sweetheart’s mess!”

“Calm down, I won’t let you go to jail,” Byron said, his voice low and rough, a storm brewing in his eyes.

His heavy brows furrowed tight as he went on, “You’ve owed Joanna so much for years. Don’t you think it’s time to make it right?”

Sylvia clenched her jaw, then let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Fine. I’ll make it right.” She turned and pushed through the crowd.

Byron frowned, sensing something was up, but he followed her anyway.

At the traffic police station’s entrance, Joanna stood trembling, her slight frame shrinking from the reporters swarming her with questions.

“Miss Moore, didn’t you just post about following traffic laws? How could you drive drunk?” one yelled.

“Your fans trusted you! Are you lying to them?” another demanded.

Joanna’s face went white, her voice shaky. “It’s not what you think, I… uh…”

She stumbled over her words, but before she could finish, Byron strode up, pulling Sylvia along. He grabbed a microphone from the stand.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he told the crowd. “Joanna wasn’t driving. Someone else was.”

He shoved the mic toward Sylvia.

Every eye in the crowd zeroed in on her.

Joanna caught Byron’s hint and let out a breath, shooting him a quick, playful tongue-stick-out.

The reporters turned their cameras and questions on Sylvia like a pack of hounds.

“Ma’am, were you really the driver? Not Miss Moore?” a woman asked.

Sylvia’s grip on the mic tightened. She glanced at Byron, then spoke, each word clear and steady. “No. Byron dragged me here to take the blame for Joanna.”

The crowd gasped and buzzed with whispers.

Byron’s stare turned ice-cold, his eyes drilling into Sylvia. Through clenched teeth, he growled, “You’re done now. Keep this up, and I will divorce you.”

He’d given her chance after chance to make things right with Joanna, and she’d slapped it away.

If she pushed him further, he’d decided that he would end it for good.

Joanna glared at Sylvia, her face red with anger. She couldn’t believe Sylvia had just thrown her under the bus in front of all these reporters.

But before she could say anything, the paparazzi pounced, hammering her with questions and tearing into her.

“Miss Moore, too spineless to own up and pinning it on someone else? That’s low!” one reporter snapped.

Joanna’s eyes filled with tears, the words cutting deep.

Byron saw the chaos spiraling and moved fast. He slipped off his suit jacket, tossed it over Joanna’s head.

With bodyguards clearing a path, he hustled her through the crowd to a waiting car.

The reporters, sensing a juicy story, chased after them, cameras flashing.

A squeaky-clean starlet caught drunk driving and dodging blame? This was the scandal of the year.

Sylvia stood alone at the station’s entrance, Byron’s earlier glare, sharp with disappointment and anger, flashing in her mind.

Once, that look would’ve crushed her. Now, her eyes were calm, like a frozen lake.

Her heart had gone numb.

She’d planned to finalize the divorce today, but Byron was clearly focused on Joanna. That would have to wait.

She took a cab back to the motel. Still weak from the blood she’d been tricked into giving Joanna, she collapsed onto the bed and passed out.

When she woke, it was evening, and she felt strangely rested. She hadn’t slept that well in years.

Out of habit, she opened a video app. Joanna’s traffic station mess was trending at number one, the comments a flood of hate.

But as Sylvia scrolled, every related video disappeared. The trend vanished, replaced by a new story: Joanna had been quietly raising money for underprivileged schools for years

The story flipped overnight.

Sylvia turned off her phone with a bitter smirk. No doubt—Byron’s doing. A few smooth moves, and Joanna’s image would be spotless again.

Back at the Blair family mansion, a black Maybach rolled into the garage.

Byron climbed out, his face dark as a storm. His sharp eyes narrowed with cold anger as he stormed into the living room, snapping, “Sylvia! Do you realize you’ve made a huge mistake today?”

“Mom, you went way too far!” Zack chimed in, following his dad inside. “You almost ruined Joanna’s life!”

He slung his oversized backpack onto the couch, puffing up with annoyance before even checking if Sylvia was there.

“And you didn’t even pick me up from kindergarten today!” he added, crossing his arms. “If my teacher hadn’t called Dad, I’d still be standing outside the gate like a loser.”

The two wore matching frowns, venting their frustration. They didn’t notice Sylvia wasn’t even there.

Footsteps shuffled from upstairs. Liana came down in her slippers in a hurry.

She yelled, her voice cutting, “Byron, is Sylvia back? You need to straighten her out. Making a big deal about divorce and vanishing all day—what’s wrong with her?”

Byron’s sharp features tightened, his jaw clenched. “She’s still not here?”

The three exchanged looks, realizing Sylvia had been gone since morning.

“Byron, you don’t think she’s for real, do you?” Liana asked, leading him to the dining room.

She handed him a stack of papers. “Here’s the divorce agreement she left for you. She doesn’t want any property, gives up custody of Zack, and has one condition: she’s done covering his expenses.”

Zack, unbothered, shrugged it off. “Grandma, don’t sweat it. Mom’s just trying to spook us. Dad’s been so busy at the company, and Mom’s got it easy staying home. No way she’s leaving this place.”

He scampered to the living room and flipped on the TV to watch cartoons.

Sylvia wasn’t around to cap his screen time. He knew he should take the advantage.

Byron, too, thought Sylvia was bluffing. His deep eyes burned with annoyance. “Mom, forget her. Let her pout out there. She’ll come crawling back when she has enough hard times out there.”

“Exactly,” Liana snorted. “Let her see how tough life is without us. When she comes back, she’s writing an apology. A farm girl like her thinking she can run the show? Laughable.”

Byron’s eyes narrowed slightly, his already hard face growing colder.

Before, Sylvia’s outbursts always fizzled out fast. She’d come back, smoothing things over with apologies.

But this time, she’d crossed a line.

His phone buzzed, slicing through the tension.