Solrine woke up to her phone ringing at 6:47 AM. It was Nova, and she sounded panicked.
"Sol, don't go online. Don't check social media. Don't look at anything."
"What?" Solrine sat up in bed, immediately alert. "What's happened now?"
"The video from yesterday. It's everywhere."
Solrine's stomach dropped. "How bad?"
"Bad. Really, really bad."
Against Nova's advice, Solrine immediately opened her laptop. The first headline that popped up made her blood run cold: "Socialite's Violent Meltdown: Solrine Cavaliere Attacks Innocent Business Owner."
The video was on every platform. Someone had edited it perfectly—cutting out all the context, all of David's confrontation with Melvine, all of Melvine's confession. It started with Solrine appearing "out of nowhere" and slapping Melvine, making her look like an unhinged aggressor attacking a helpless victim.
The comments were brutal:
*"This woman is completely unhinged. She deserves everything that happened to her."*
*"Poor Melvine was just trying to run her business and this psycho attacks her for no reason."*
*"Now we see her true colors. Violent and unstable."*
*"Thank God someone finally exposed what she's really like."*
Her phone rang again. Aria this time.
"I'm coming over," Aria said without preamble. "Don't answer the door for anyone else."
"I'm fine—"
"No, you're not. And don't pretend to be. This is serious, Sol."
Within an hour, all three of her friends were at her apartment, along with her mother. They'd formed what Remi called "crisis protocol"—phones off, curtains drawn, emergency wine supplies.
"We need to talk about damage control," Aria said, pacing the living room like a lawyer preparing for trial.
"What damage control?" Solrine laughed bitterly. "I look like a complete psychopath in that video."
"Because they edited out all the important parts," Nova pointed out. "David needs to come forward and explain what really happened."
"David's not going to do that."
"Why not?" her mother asked. "If he cares about you at all—"
"He cares more about protecting Melvine. You should have seen him yesterday. Even after everything she did, he still couldn't stand to see her hurt."
Remi pulled up the video on her phone. "This is so edited. Look—you can see the cuts where they took out David's part of the conversation."
"Doesn't matter. People don't look for editing tricks. They see what they want to see."
Solrine's phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number. Then another. And another.
"Reporters," she muttered, declining them all.
"Maybe you should talk to one," her mother suggested. "Tell your side of the story."
"What story? That I followed my ex-boyfriend to a restaurant and attacked his stalker? That sounds so much better."
"The truth sounds better than the lie they're telling," Aria insisted.
But even as she said it, Solrine could see the doubt in her friends' eyes. The video was damning. Even with context, she'd still physically attacked someone. Even with justification, she'd still lost control in public.
Her laptop chimed with a new email. Her landlord.
*Ms. Cavaliere, I've been made aware of some concerning videos circulating online. Given the recent publicity and the disruption it's causing other tenants, I'm afraid I'll need you to vacate the premises within 30 days. I apologize for the short notice, but this is a family building and we need to maintain a certain standard...*
"Motherfucker," Solrine breathed.
"What now?" Nova asked.
"I'm getting evicted."
Her mother gasped. "They can't do that!"
"They can and they are." Solrine closed the laptop. "Morality clause in the lease. I'm officially a disruption to their 'family environment.'"
Her phone rang again. This time it was a number she recognized—her insurance company.
"Ms. Cavaliere? This is Janet from Hartwell Insurance. I'm calling regarding your policy. We've received some concerning information..."
Twenty minutes later, she'd lost her car insurance. Something about being a "high-risk client" and "public liability concerns."
"This is insane," Remi said, watching Solrine pace around her apartment. "They can't just destroy your entire life over one video."
"They can. They are." Solrine stopped at the window, peering through the blinds. "There's a news van outside."
"What?" Aria rushed to look. "Shit. There's two of them now."
Nova was on her phone. "My building has underground parking. You can stay with me until this dies down."
"If it dies down."
Her mother stood up, her face set with determination. "I'm calling my lawyer. This has gone far enough. And you're staying with me tonight."
"Mom, I'm fine—"
"No arguments, Solrine Marie. I've already cleared out your old room. You're coming home where I can take care of you properly." Her mother's voice brooked no disagreement. "I should have insisted on this after the first scandal. I won't make that mistake again."
"Mrs. Cavaliere is right," Nova said. "You need family right now, not just friends."
"I'll be bringing dinner every night this week," her mother continued, already making plans. "And Dr. Matthews from our church—he's a therapist, very discreet—he's agreed to see you privately if you'd like."
"Mom, I don't need therapy—"
"Everyone needs someone to talk to during times like this. There's no shame in getting help, sweetheart."
Another knock at the door, followed by a muffled voice: "Ms. Cavaliere? Channel 7 News. We'd like to get your comment on yesterday's incident."
"Jesus Christ," Solrine muttered.
Her phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: *You got what you deserved. Hope you learned your lesson.*
Then another: *Violent psycho. Stay away from decent people.*
And another: *You should be in jail.*
"They found my number," she said quietly.
Aria took the phone from her hands. "We're changing this today. New number, new email, everything."
"I can't hide forever."
"You're not hiding. You're regrouping."
But Solrine knew the truth. This wasn't regrouping. This was her life imploding in real time, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
The irony wasn't lost on her. She'd spent weeks angry about a sex tape that had cost her job and damaged her reputation. Now she'd created an even bigger scandal that was costing her everything else.
"We need to pack your essentials," Nova said pragmatically. "You can't stay here with reporters camped outside."
As her friends began gathering her clothes and important documents, Solrine sat on her couch and watched her world disappear piece by piece. Job, apartment, insurance, privacy, dignity—all gone.
"Sol?" Remi sat down beside her. "You know this isn't your fault, right? Melvine created this situation. You just reacted."
"I reacted badly."
"You reacted humanly. Anyone would have lost it in that situation."
Would they have? Solrine wasn't so sure. Other people managed to handle betrayal and injustice without physically attacking anyone. Other people kept their composure even when they were furious.
But maybe other people hadn't spent their whole lives being called a "red flag" and a "bad influence." Maybe other people didn't have reputations that made everyone ready to believe the worst about them.
Her phone rang—David's number this time.
"Don't even think about it," Aria said, grabbing the phone before Solrine could reach it. "Absolutely not."
"He might want to help—"
"He had his chance to help yesterday," Remi interrupted. "Where was he when that video was being edited? Where's his statement defending you?"
"We're cutting him off completely," Aria announced. "David Laurent is banned from contacting you, period."
"You can't just—"
"Yes, we can," Nova said firmly. "And we are. He chose his side yesterday when he protected her instead of you."
Solrine's mother nodded approvingly. "The girls are right. That boy has caused enough trouble."
Her phone buzzed again. Another unknown number, another hateful message.
"That's it," Aria announced, taking the phone and turning it off completely. "No more of this today."
Outside, Solrine could hear the news crews setting up, probably preparing for their evening broadcasts. She wondered how they'd frame the story tonight. "Socialite's Downward Spiral" or "When Privilege Turns Violent" or maybe just "The Fall of Solrine Cavaliere."
All of them would be accurate, in their way.
As Nova helped her pack, Solrine made a mental inventory of what she had left: good friends, a mother who loved her despite everything, some savings, and her health.
It wasn't nothing. But it wasn't much either.
And somewhere across town, Melvine was probably watching all of this unfold with satisfaction, seeing Solrine finally get what she "deserved."
The thought made Solrine's anger flare again, but she pushed it down. Anger was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.
"Ready to go?" Nova asked, shouldering one of Solrine's bags.
Solrine looked around her apartment one last time—at the photos on the walls, the books on the shelves, the life she'd built for herself over the past few years.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I'm ready."
But as they prepared to sneak out through Nova's car in the underground garage, Solrine knew she was lying.
She wasn't ready for any of this.
She wasn't ready to lose everything, to start over, to become the villain in her own story.
But ready or not, that's exactly what was happening.