She’s Back, and Hell’s Coming with Her novel Chapter 57

Uliana’s voice rose, thick with indignation. “Mom, how can you take their side? I’m the one who got hurt—Sabrina dumped a whole plate of leftovers on me! I had to shower three times before I felt clean, and she didn’t even get a scratch…”

Her words ended in a trembling sob, tears welling in her eyes. The more she dwelled on it, the more wronged she felt, until she buried her face in the blankets and cried harder.

Wendy, standing by the door, watched her daughter’s outburst with a sigh. “I’ll come back when you’re finished,” she said curtly, pulling the door shut behind her.

Uliana was too worked up to listen to reason. Better to let her calm down before trying again.

Meanwhile, Chance was in the middle of a tense meeting with several top executives, trying to chart a way forward. He’d managed to steady his nerves—anger wasn’t going to solve anything, and the mess still needed to be dealt with.

“Let’s have PR bury the trending topic,” someone suggested. “People online forget things quickly. Give it a little time and all this will blow over.”

Everyone remembered the uproar from the last major boycott—protesters smashing up stores, refusing to buy certain brands. And yet, months later, those same brands were selling better than ever. Clearly, people said one thing and did another.

And this time, the issue hadn’t even touched on anything as explosive as national pride.

Chance was already considering teaming up with the Foster family to put a lid on the scandal. If both families kept their heads down for a while, the storm would probably pass.

But the marketing director shook his head. “Sweeping this under the rug isn’t a good idea. Ignoring it will only make people angrier. Most folks in Veridia aren’t wealthy. If we don’t say anything, we might actually see people show up at our stores, causing trouble.”

A tense silence settled over the room. “So what do we do? Have you read those comments online? Our stock’s already at a halt today. If this keeps trending, the price could keep dropping.”

When the secretary’s email came through, Wendy’s frown deepened. The more she read, the more the pieces didn’t fit. This wasn’t some adopted girl—Sabrina was the Fosters’ biological daughter, lost and only recently found.

Celine’s origins, on the other hand, were a well-kept secret. The Fosters and the Suttons had only started doing business together in recent years, so Wendy didn’t know much about the Sutton family’s private affairs. But if her hunch was correct, Celine was the one the Suttons had adopted years ago.

She vaguely recalled a story from a friend: the Suttons had lost a child, then adopted another. At the time, Wendy assumed that the adopted child was Caleb, the Suttons’ eldest son. But looking back now, it must have been Celine.

With a sudden sense of urgency, Wendy dialed Chance’s number.

Back at the office, Chance was beginning to unravel. Dylan Foster’s advice was blunt: pay whatever it takes to kill the story. It was the simplest, most effective way. Whether there would be backlash down the line hardly mattered anymore—at this point, they were out of options.