Chapter 8 - The Media Circus
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Over the next four days, Dylan lived in a paradise of his own ego.
He appeared on two morning talk shows, sitting beside Sierra while Ryan sat on his lap holding a toy fire truck. The media dubbed them "The Modern Hero Family." Dylan spoke eloquently about duty, courage, and protecting the innocent, while Sierra wiped away artistic tears and called him her savior.
Back at the house, Dylan treated me like an invisible ghost. He would come home late, smelling faintly of Sierra's expensive lavender perfume, leave his dirty clothes on the bedroom floor, and barely speak three words to Haley.
On Thursday afternoon, I sat in the living room as Dylan adjusted his tuxedo tie in the hallway mirror, getting ready for a televised press conference at the Vance Capital headquarters.
"Are you sure you're not coming to the press conference, Elena?" Dylan asked, not looking at me through the mirror. "The PR team says it looks slightly odd that my wife hasn't made a public statement supporting my award."
"I have a doctor's appointment for Haley's lungs, Dylan," I said calmly, turning a page in my book. "Her chest is still inflamed from the dust inhalation."
Dylan waved his hand dismissively. "Mark can drive her to the clinic. It's important that we present a united front today. Sierra is giving a speech presenting me with the City Courage Medal."
I set my book down, looking at him with an expression of quiet curiosity. "You really believe you deserve that medal, don't you?"
Dylan turned around, his eyes flashing with sudden arrogance. "I saved a child's life, Elena! Yes, I deserve it! Millions of people are looking up to me right now! Do you have any idea what this kind of publicity does for my career? I'm being considered for the Board of Global Investments!"
"And what about Haley?" I asked softly. "Every time she turns on the television, she sees her father holding another woman's son, telling the world that Ryan is his priority."
Dylan stomped over to where I was sitting, leaning down until his face was inches from mine.
"Haley is five years old! She doesn't understand media coverage!" he hissed. "Stop trying to poison her against me because of your own petty resentment! You were always so cold, Elena. So independent. You never needed me! Sierra actually appreciates what I do!"
I looked at his flushed face, feeling absolutely nothing. No anger, no heartbreak—just pure, unadulterated disgust.
"You're right, Dylan," I whispered, smiling faintly. "I never needed you."
He frowned, thrown off by my tone, but his phone rang before he could answer. He checked the caller ID—Sierra's name flashed across the screen with a heart emoji—and his face instantly softened.
"I'm on my way, Sierra," Dylan said into the phone, his voice turning sweet and smooth. "Don't worry, I'll be there in ten minutes."
He didn't say goodbye to me. He didn't check on Haley in the kitchen. He simply walked out the front door, rushing to his true family.
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I picked up my phone and dialed Julian Thorne's direct line.
"Julian," I said cleanly. "Execute Phase Two."
