Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine

Chapter 57

What kind of suffering did she endure to be so dismissive when recounting these experiences?

"In the future, if anyone hurts you, I won’t let them get away with it," I tell her.

She pats my hand. Treating me very much like the younger brother she professes me to be.

And that pisses me off.

But I know better. I’ve gotten close to her and I’ve seen how she responds to me.

She might try to keep me at arm’s length, but we are far past that.

“Jay, I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. Don't keep saying stuff like that.” She smothers a

yawn. “Hurry up and eat." She smiles at me. “I’m ready for bed.”

* * * * * * * * *

LILY

The incident with Grace has indeed been blown out of proportion. It’s all over the fucking internet.

I’m trending on multiple social media sites and it’s taking almost a dozen people on my PR team to field

the inquiries and squash the haters.

There are simply too many sites and too many people talking about the event.

And while my people can bribe some news outlets, there are simply too many and the scene of her

standing at the roadway while an entire dumpster of garbage was opened and sorted…that was what

was sweeping the world and trending.

Damn it!

Between the missing ring and speculation of what it cost and looked like, and the sanitation workers

going through the trash looking for it, there was more than enough fodder to keep people talking.

The corresponding images were especially publicized. In it, I’m dressed like I’m ready to walk down

Rodeo Drive. Lux heels, Hermes bag. 3 carat diamond earrings. Rolex watch. And my friggin’ Maserati

key chain in my hands.

The stark imagery of me, in glam mode, compared to a slew of minimum wage workers who are literally

sorting through trash… it is NOT a good look.

I knew it was going to take a bad turn the moment I saw my fans and the spectators whipping out their

cell phones.

Such a contrast immediately generated the ire of many. I’m being accused of being morally flawed and

putting on airs.

The ‘rich bitch’ who watched while others labored. Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

There are even some online who stated, "She lost her own ring and still wanted the sanitation workers

to find it!?! They have already been working hard sweeping the roads for the entire day. Why didn't she

look through the rubbish herself?"

"So she's better than everyone just because she's a celebrity?"

"Who is she to hog the city's resources? She doesn't pay the sanitation workers' salaries. Why does

she need so many people to help her look for a ring?"

Even with my fans working hard to clear my name, there is no stopping the flood of negative

comments. There had been plenty of people at the scene and many of them had recorded videos of the

incident and uploaded them online.

It’s a PR nightmare!

"Why can't the top search be taken down?" I scream.

"There's nothing we can do. I don't know what's wrong with these key influencers. We’re reaching out

and asking them to stop posting. We’re offering to compensate them. But they just aren't willing to take

down all of the related content."

“This is absurd!” I shout. “Offer them more money!”

“We have,” my manager says. “And we have to be careful not to push too hard because that could blow

up in our faces too. We don’t want them to start saying that we’re trying to buy them or silence them.

Free speech and all that.” There’s some rustling on the other end of the phone as if he’s covering the

mouthpiece. “Not for nothing, but if you’d called me immediately, instead of just your agent and

publicist, I would’ve told you to keep your money and to lavish it on the workers. Or to forget about the

ring and go buy a new one—it would’ve cost a fraction of what we’re spending now on damage control.

Damn it, Lily, you could’ve spun this way better, if you’d rewarded those poor people or if you’d actually

gotten your hands dirty yourself.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just run your mouth at me,” I say icily.

But his words struck a chord.

I could have handled this better.

Better if I hadn’t started this fiasco in the first place.

The manager relents. “Sure. Fine. Hopefully, we won’t run into a situation like this again.”

I’m furious at this human for running his mouth at me and chastising me. But he is good at his job and

there’s a reason I keep him around.

I’m quiet for a moment. Thinking. Surely there is a way to spin things. Some grand gesture or some

other major event to draw attention away.

Hell, we could blow a building up and I could go rescue a kitten to some shit.

My manager says quietly: “Lily, did you offend someone, I mean not the public or those workers today?

I mean someone big…”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because money cures most everything, and this situation…we aren’t able to pay to sweep it away. So

I’ll ask again, who did you piss off?”

"Who could I have offended?" I ponder over it. “I’m an Atkinson, and I’m engaged to Sean Stevens.”

We come from two of the wealthiest and most powerful packs in this city. Even for humans who don’t

know our true prowess, they still know that we move in higher circles. We’re untouchable. Everybody

should be afraid of offending me, unless...

I freeze. Could it be Jason Reed?

There are very few people more powerful than my pack or Pack Stevens. And it would take a lot of

power and money for me to be refused. The ones who are capable of hiding the truth from the masses

and who would be able to influence those key opinion leaders and the media…are few, and Jason is

one of them.

Could it really be that because of Jennifer’s death, he’s taking out his anger on me and Sean?

But why? And why now?

There had been no change, and their businesses had continued as usual with Reed Pack. Jason had

accepted their wedding invitation.

And yet, ask think of the previously taken-down projection ads, I’m suddenly not so sure.

“Oh no,” my manager whispers.

“What!? What is it?”

“Turn on your television.”

I flip on the tv. It shows aerial footage of the Sanitation Center and people sweeping the street and

spraying it down where they’d emptied the dumpster to sort through the garbage.

Then the scene cuts to security footage photos of her, with closeups of her hand.

‘Police in the city launched this investigation in a matter of hours. And they made a shocking

discovery…’ the reporter says.

‘A composite of a series of security camera footage prove that Lily Atkinson had not lost a ring.’ The

reporter shakes her head at the camera. ‘It’s clear from the photos that she wasn’t even wearing one.

The cameras show that she had only been wearing a pinkie ring. Other than that, there had been no

other ring.’ The reporter shrugs. ‘The ring in question was purported to be worth hundreds of thousands

of dollars.’ She shakes her head with disgust. ‘Perhaps Miss Atkinson just misplaced it.’

At that line, the co-anchor arches a brow. “Oh, yes, Joann. I can see how hard it must be to keep track

of millions of dollars of jewelry.”

The sarcasm and snide tones are brutally effective.

My phone starts beeping incessantly with DMs.

In the blink of an eye, I’ve become the most hated person on the internet.