Celebrity Groom Calls Past Life 'Garbage,' Ex-Wife's Son Asks About Name Change at Wedding
My resolve was immediately put to the test. Within hours of my meeting with Chloe, the first volley of Julian’s counter-attack landed. It wasn’t subtle.
I was making Leo a sandwich, trying to maintain some semblance of normal routine, when my phone buzzed with an alert. A news article popped up on my screen, a major entertainment outlet. The headline screamed: “Celebrity Groom’s Ex-Wife Accused of Wedding Day Stunt.”
My hands went cold. The article quoted Marc Thorne directly. He dismissed Leo’s question about changing his surname as a “child’s tantrum” fueled by a “disgruntled ex-wife” — me. Thorne claimed I was bitter, jealous, and attempting to sabotage Julian’s happiness out of spite.
“Ms. Roberts has always struggled with Mr. Vance’s success,” Thorne’s statement read, “and unfortunately, this appears to be another desperate attempt to regain relevance by exploiting her son and disrupting a joyous occasion.”
My stomach churned. It was exactly what Chloe had warned me about. The swiftness and brutality of it left me reeling.
Then, things got worse. My phone buzzed again, this time with a link from a notorious tabloid site. The headline was even more vicious: “Maya Roberts: The Real Reason Behind Julian Vance’s Split?”
Beneath it were photos. Photos of me from years ago, when Julian and I were first together, long before his fame exploded. Photos from my early twenties, when I was still a struggling costume designer, wearing oversized shirts and paint-splattered jeans, caught off-guard and looking tired. They were unflattering, clearly chosen to portray me as unkempt, desperate, and unattractive—a stark contrast to Seraphina’s polished celebrity image.
The accompanying article painted me as emotionally unstable, always demanding, always wanting more than Julian could give. It twisted every interaction, every struggle from our early days, into a narrative of my supposed inadequacy and ambition. It was a complete fabrication, but it was presented as fact.
“Sources close to the couple suggest Ms. Roberts always resented Julian’s rising star,” the article claimed, “preferring him to remain a struggling artist she could control.”
I dropped my phone on the counter, my hands shaking. My privacy, which I had so carefully guarded for years, was shattered. Every embarrassing moment, every unguarded expression, was now fodder for public consumption.
Leo walked into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He must have heard the alerts. He picked up my phone, his innocent gaze falling on the screen. His eyes widened as he saw the unflattering pictures of me, then he read a snippet of the article.
“Mom,” he whispered, his face crumbling. “They’re saying… they’re saying bad things about you.”
He looked up at me, hurt and confusion warring in his eyes. He didn’t understand the venom, the calculated cruelty of it. He just saw his mother being attacked.
I knelt down, pulling him into a hug, trying to shield him from the screen, from the ugly words. “It’s not true, sweetie,” I murmured, my voice trembling. “It’s just… noise. People trying to cause trouble.”
But he had already seen it. He pulled away slightly, picking up the phone again, scrolling through the comments section. The anonymous vitriol was even worse than the article itself. People calling me a gold digger, a bitter hag, saying I deserved to be alone. Some even commented on Leo, calling him a “spoiled brat” for his question at the wedding.
His small shoulders began to shake. He didn’t cry loudly, but silent tears streamed down his face. He quickly wiped them away, as if ashamed.
My heart shattered all over again. This wasn’t just about me anymore. Julian, through Marc Thorne, was using the media to attack Leo, to make him feel like his very existence was a problem. This wasn’t just a smear campaign; it was an attempt to isolate us, to discredit any truth we might bring forward.
A wave of profound anger washed over me, eclipsing the fear and the shame. For years, I had quietly managed the emotional fallout of Julian’s neglect. I had let him build his empire on the ashes of our marriage, telling myself that Leo’s peace was more important than my own vindication. I had focused on protecting Leo from the chaos of his father’s celebrity life, from the inevitable disappointment.
But this was different. This was Julian and his team actively targeting us, painting me as a villain and making Leo a casualty in their twisted public narrative. They were trying to silence me by destroying my reputation, and in doing so, they were hurting my son.
My caretaking limits had been pushed to their absolute breaking point. The quiet, resilient Maya, who always avoided confrontation, was gone. In her place was a fierce, protective mother who had finally had enough.
“They won’t get away with this, Leo,” I said, my voice firm, devoid of its earlier tremble. I pulled him back into a tight hug, holding him close. “No matter what they say, no matter what lies they spread, we will stand together.”
I knew what this meant. There was no going back to anonymity, no retreat into a quiet life. Julian Vance and Marc Thorne had declared war, and they had chosen my son as a target.
I pulled away from Leo, wiping his tears with my thumb. His eyes, still red-rimmed, met mine. He looked small and vulnerable, but also, I thought, a little less broken now that I had spoken with such conviction.
“Go wash your face, sweetie,” I instructed, my voice unwavering. “I need to make some calls.”
He nodded, giving me a weak smile, and padded off to the bathroom.
I picked up my phone again, my fingers no longer shaking. I scrolled past the hateful comments, past the unflattering photos, and found Chloe Davies’s email.
“They’ve started,” I typed, quickly. “We need to talk. Now.”
I hit send, a new kind of resolve hardening in my chest. Marc Thorne wanted to paint me as unstable and desperate? Fine. He wanted to isolate me? He had just forged an unexpected alliance. He wanted to keep Julian’s lies buried? I would make sure they saw the light of day. This relentless character assassination had just backfired spectacularly. They had pushed me too far, and now, I was going to push back.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours