Chapter 5: Blackmail, Lawyers, and Allies

He had the kind of effortless cool you can’t fake. He’d post a selfie eating pizza, and it would go viral.

A rare breed.

Most guys in the industry were behind the camera, not in front of it. Tyler was different.

In other words, Tyler is the kind of person everyone envies—can eat and still stay thin. Three months ago, after seeing him for the umpteenth time, I followed him, and he immediately messaged me: "You finally followed your bro."

He’d been waiting, apparently. I laughed, feeling a little less alone.

Turns out he’d been following me for a while.

I scrolled back through our old messages, realizing he’d always been there, just out of sight.

I joked, "Maybe you’re the little brother."

He sent back a laughing emoji. I could almost hear his voice through the screen.

Later, we found out we were both born in the summer, and he’s a month younger than me—so, technically, my little brother.

He started calling me “big sis” as a joke. It stuck. I kind of liked it.

Tyler and I are in the same city. In my last life, he sometimes organized blogger meetups, but I was so caught up in my romance with Mitchell that I never attended.

I regretted it now. I could’ve used a friend like Tyler. Better late than never.

Today he messaged me out of concern. I hadn’t planned to reply, but feeling so down, I answered, "Would you believe it? I want to break up, but I can’t."

I hit send before I could overthink it. His side just kept showing "typing..."

Five minutes later, a message popped up: "Does he have something on you?"

He didn’t mince words. I appreciated that.

Quickly another: "No judgment—if you need help, just say the word."

It was simple, direct. I felt a little less alone.

I thought for a bit and asked, "Do you know any good lawyers?"

I almost didn’t send it, afraid of looking weak. But I hit send anyway.

He sent a facepalm emoji: "You’re in this deep and you don’t have a lawyer?"

He was right. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

I was embarrassed too, not wanting to admit I used to share a lawyer with Mitchell.

I typed and deleted a dozen explanations. Tyler just sent another message.

A few minutes later, Tyler sent me a contact—a female attorney named Julia Ramirez.

He sent her number, her website, even a LinkedIn profile. He thought of everything. Typical Tyler.

He added, "She’s recommended by my lawyer, and since you’re both women, it’ll be easier to talk."

He was thoughtful, careful. I felt my guard slip a little.

I thanked him and immediately reached out to Julia, briefly explaining the situation.

I sent her a long email, laying it all out. Within an hour, she called me back.

Julia told me not to worry. If Mitchell dared to leak my video, first, it would be invasion of privacy; second, defamation; and third, distribution of obscene material.

Her voice was calm, steady. She sounded like someone who’d been through worse and come out the other side. That’s what I needed.

Julia was firm: "If he really tries it, I’ll personally see him in court."

I believed her. She sounded like she could take on the world and win.

"However," she softened, "since you’re a young woman, if the video leaks, it could affect your reputation, so we’ll do everything to stop him from going that far."

She was honest, but reassuring. I felt a little less afraid.

Julia’s words calmed my heart, and as I was about to thank her, she added,

"No matter what you’ve done, no matter where this goes, no matter what people say online, never blame yourself. You did nothing wrong."

Her words hit me like a wave. I hadn’t realized how much guilt I was carrying. My throat tightened.

"The ones who are wrong are people like Mitchell."

She said it with conviction, like a judge handing down a sentence.

Julia’s words made my eyes sting.

I blinked back tears, swallowing the lump in my throat. I hadn’t heard kindness like that in a long time.

In my last life, everyone thought I was depressed because I lost money, love, and a baby.

They saw the headlines, the gossip, the rumors. No one saw the pain underneath.

But the deeper reason was, rather than hating Mitchell for treating me so badly, I actually hated myself the most. That’s the real poison.

I replayed every mistake, every bad decision. I blamed myself for trusting, for hoping, for loving.

When I agreed to film those intimate videos, it was like handing him a knife and turning my back. So stupid.

I thought it was love. I thought it was trust. I never imagined he’d use it against me.

In my last life,

People said, as a woman, I was shameless and had no self-respect.

The comments were brutal. They cut deeper than any breakup.

People said, as a woman, why didn’t I protect myself?

They blamed me for being naive, for letting my guard down. I started to believe them.

People said, didn’t you agree to it? Why did you agree?

They made it sound so simple, like love was a contract you could cancel at any time.

Some even said, you weren’t a victim at all, but an accomplice. That one cut deep.

I agreed with them.

I let their words poison my mind. I thought I deserved it.

I blamed myself over and over.

I replayed every conversation, every decision. I couldn’t escape the guilt.

Until I couldn’t take it and tried to disappear.

I hit rock bottom. I thought the world would be better off without me.

Luckily, you only get one rock bottom.

I got a second chance. I wasn’t going to waste it.

Julia’s words gave me real comfort and strength.

She was the first person to tell me it wasn’t my fault. I clung to her words like a lifeline.

I decided, no matter how arrogant or shameless Mitchell was, I’d fight him to the end.

I wiped my tears, took a deep breath, and squared my shoulders. I was ready to fight.

With tears in my eyes and my voice shaking, I said, "Thank you, Julia. I know what to do now."

She laughed, told me to call anytime. I believed her.