Chapter 8
Kaylee’s POV
Celebrity gossip Twitter accounts had posted eighteen photos.]
[BREAKING: Jax Puth spotted at hospital with mystery woman】 |
The story spread like wildfire. By the time I saw it, it had already morphed into multiple narratives.[]
Anonymous accounts claiming to be hospital staff were tweeting that Jax was there for a prenatal appointment with me.[]
[Writing love songs for Selena while knocking up another woman? The AUDACITY] [
Selena’s fan army was in full attack mode, flooding every post with hate comments.[]
[Two–timing trash.1
[Cancel this man IMMEDIATELY.] []
[Acts all unavailable in public while getting someone pregnant on the DL. I can’t.] [
As Twitter sleuths enhanced the photos, I was quickly identified.[]
【Wait isn’t that literally Selena’s assistant?】
【OMG yes! She’s in the background of all those fan pics from Selena’s press tour.]
[Doxxed her! Name’s Kaylee Taylor.]
Instantly, the hate train redirected toward me, my notifications exploding with vicious comments.]
[The audacity of this homewrecker.]
【Working for Selena while screwing her man behind her back. TRASH.1
J
[Snake in the grass! ???
A few lone voices attempted to be the voice of reason-
[Guys… have Jax and Selena actually confirmed they’re a thing? I thought that was just fan speculation?] [
But these rational takes were quickly buried under the avalanche of rage tweets.[]
Every thread was a battlefield between Jax’s fans and Selena’s supporters.
Jax’s defenders tried damage control: [Going to a hospital with someone doesn’t make you a couple. Y’all never helped a friend when they’re sick?)
Selena’s fans weren’t having it: [Bitch please. Look at his body language.] [
[The way he’s hovering over her like a guard dog.] [
ademie Clary (her Your Rockstar Fantasy
22.6%
Chapter 5
[Dude was stress–smoking outside the treatment room looking like his whole world was falling apart.】
[Might as well have “Baby Daddy” tattooed across his forehead.] [
I stared at the photos of Jax.
He stood watch outside my hospital room, looking absolutely wrecked with worry.
So when I collapsed from the pain, he was… actually terrified for me?]
Yet three years ago, he slammed the door on his way out, his parting words: “Don’t come crawling back even if you’re dying.”
My mind was spinning when an unknown number lit up my phone.
I fumbled to answer, and a voice I hadn’t heard in years came through:[]
“Kaylee dear, I assume you remember who this is?“]
My chest constricted; I could barely breathe.]
That voice–perfectly modulated, chillingly familiar.]
Jax’s mother.
Three years ago, she’d used this same icy, country–club tone to inform me: “Kaylee, your relationship with Jax has an expiration date. If you end things yourself, I’m prepared to offer a substantial financial package. If I’m forced to handle this matter personally, you’ll both suffer unnecessarily, and you’ll walk away empty–handed.]
“So let’s be practical–what’s your number? How much to walk away from my son?“]
