Page 62 of The Southern Submission

“Perfect, I love Ina. Her recipes are so approachable,” Harlowe says, guiding us into the party and waving over a server with a tray of cocktails. “These are the Harlowe, which is a spicy mocktail kind of like a jalapeño margarita, and that’s the F-Bomb, which is a French 75 variation with a rose cordial and rosé champagne,” she says, gesturing at the two drinks on the tray. They’re both perfectly fitting for her. Ainsley takes the pink bubbly drink and I grab the green mocktail with a red rim.

“Congratulations on your show,” I tell her, tapping my glass first against Harlowe’s and then Ainsley’s.

“Thanks! But you’re on your own now. I have to mingle. Zander and Hayes are somewhere over there.” She gestures toward a corner as she gives us one of her supermodel smiles and wiggles her fingers before turning toward another group of people.

I face Ainsley, intent on finding out what her deal is now that I have her to myself. “You’re going to talk to me. I don’t care what I have to call you or what it takes. You’ll let me in and give me this burden to carry. You know I can handle it. I hate seeing you like this. Don’t fucking say you’re fine again. I know you’re not,” I say, cutting off the retort she’s about to interject.

She shakes her head, looking ill, and now I’m getting worried. What the fuck happened? She was irritated this morning,but something’s wrong now.

“There are some things I can’t let you have,” she whispers, her voice strained and face warped in a way I’ve never seen. “I wish I were a better person, someone who didn’t have regrets and mistakes and irreparable things in my life that would absolutely destroy us.”

Destroy us?What the fuck is she talking about. She’s not going to slip away from me that easily. I can get past anything. “Baby, we can work through whatever it is. If there was someone else, or you did something you think is wrong, I can get past it. I just want you now and what we’ve built together.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket at the same time I hear text tones go off all around the room. It buzzes again and I look around as people pull their phones out. Faces turn our way, people talking behind their hands like that’ll disguise that Ainsley and I are the focus of their conversation. I spot Hayes and Zander making their way toward us, their faces set in scowls that make people move out of their way without complaint. Paige is behind Hayes, her hand in his and a worried look on her face as she bites her crimson lip and looks from me to Ainsley. Harlowe gets to us before they do, holding her phone in front of her.

“Is this fucking true?”

I look over Ainsley’s head at the screen and my blood runs cold. At the top, in crisp, bold font, I see exactly why Ainsley was worried I’d hate her earlier. The headline is spelled out clear as day, and I know exactly who has been writing about my family for the last two years.

The Atlanta Haute List

Gossip Girl Uncovered: Ainsley Montgomery the WhoreBehind The Haute List

That’s right. The traitorous bitch now reporting on herself and her newrelationshipwith a fucking Olsen brother has been behind this gossip site for over two years. Want proof? I have receipts. I built this site for her three years ago to use. The dumb skank didn’t know how to cover her tracks well enough to keep me out when I discovered she’s still using the same platform. Of course I gave myself a backdoor to get in whenever I wanted, and the code was exactly the same. She just changed the domain and the design, the ignorant twat.

And Ainsley, your VPN wasn’t enough to hide from me, you cunty bitch. You shouldn’t have spread your legs for the first rich man willing to give you a story and a place to stay when you once again fucked up your life. You’re so pathetic you couldn't even get out of the hole you dug for yourself. And it had to be a fucking Olsen. I might’ve left you to your own devices knowing you’d blow it up on your own, but you picked him? That can’t stand.

But that’s not the worst, is it, you twisted fucks? You’re not even fucking together. This whole relationship’s been for show. The brainless cunt had the fucking relationship contract saved to the site with notes on how to be your girlfriend. Damn, you’re both pathetic.

Payton, you slow-witted prick, the girl is a fucking fraud. She’s using you and the blog post drafts on this site are proof. She’s planning to run a story about your Fourth of July party tomorrowand another about some investments you’ve been making into local real estate and how that affects the city. Looks like even your business deals aren't sacred when it comes to the snooping slut. She’ll use anything against you, even if your contract says she should keep her dick-sucking lips shut. I’d say watch your back, but I hope you go down in flames, you entitled piece of shit. You deserve to have your life fucked up by someone as messy and devoid of feelings as Ainsley. She’ll fuck you over and fuck herself in the end, every time.

Deuces, dickbags and anyone who reads this stupid shit.

*Bow and Arrow*

I scan the article, every word committed to memory without any desire to remember it, feeling myself growing angrier and more detached with each line. When I finish, I look over at Ainsley, who’s shaking, her face ashen and eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“My ex-boyfriend is trying to ruin me,” she whispers to Harlowe. “He’s mad I’m with Payton because of some business dealings between his father’s company and Olympus. He’s cruel and manipulative and everything he says is hurtful and meant to break me down.”

“But it’s true,” Harlowe presses, popping her fist on her hip as Zander puts his arm around her waist. Hayes and Paige flank our other side, effectively shielding us from the rest of the party, but creating a hostile huddle that has Ainsley looking around like she’s trapped. She’s about to bolt. Do I want to let her go, or keep her here? The choice is harder than I thoughtit’d be.

Her next words slam a knife into my heart and rip it to shreds.

“I did start the Haute List, but what Archer said is meant to—”

“We don’t care about Archer. We’ll deal with him. We care about the countless stories you’ve written about our family. About my wife and child. Everything you’ve posted has harmed us in some way, and I don’t suffer anyone who fucks with my family,” Hayes says, his presence more menacing than ever as he towers over Ainsley and gives her a green-eyed death glare that makes grown men shit their pants.

Ainsley shrinks into herself even more, the smallest person in this huddle by several inches from the next woman, and a foot shorter than Zander and Hayes each. I want to defend her, to stop my brothers from intimidating her, but they aren’t wrong, and she admitted to being behind the Haute List. Her words and stories have played a devastating role in our lives as long as she’s had the blog. She’s been critical, judgmental, shared sensitive personal and business information, and made choices that are now coming back to bite her in the ass.

She couldn't have expected to remain anonymous forever. She had to know there would come a time when she’d have to own up to the fact that she was behind the page.

“Ainsley,” I say with quiet authority, and everyone looks at me.

Paige’s gaze is full of sorrow and pity. Harlowe is pissed. Zander and Hayes are waiting for me to cast my judgment with hard expressions. Ainsley slowly brings her eyes up, like a weight is attached to her neck, making it the hardest thing she’s had to do. They’re red-rimmed and full of tears that begin to spill over her lashes when she meets my eyes.

“Is this what’s been weighing on you today that you wouldn't tell me? You didn’t trust me enough to help when Archer was blackmailing you and had you locked out of your site that I could’ve gotten into if I’d known?”

“I couldn’t,” she says, her voice thick with tears, eyes pleading.

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