Page 93 of Faking with Three

I turn back to my monitor, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. “Nice to see you too, Charlie.”

“I thought we were over this,” she says.

“We were?” I say drily.

“Don’t give me that,” she hisses, slamming her phone onto the desk in front of me. “Do you have any idea what kind of hate I’ve been getting? My inbox is flooded with threats, Ethan. Threats. You need to take that episode down. Now.”

I meet her gaze, unflinching. “I don’t know what you thought would happen, Charlie. Actions have consequences. You, of all people, should know that.”

Her face flushes deeper, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “You made me a villain. You painted me as some kind of monster.”

I stand, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “We told the truth,” I say, my voice low but firm. “If your own actions look ugly to you, imagine how ugly they look to everyone else.”

Charlie’s eyes widen slightly, but she recovers quickly, her posture stiffening. “This is defamation,” she spits. “I can sue you for this. I will sue you if you don’t take that episode down.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Defamation? Are you serious? Is that the only threat you can give us? Guess why your previous case is still pending in court?”

“Everything we said in that episode is backed by fact. You leaked Adam’s identity to the press. You weaponized Jax’s past to make him look unfit as a father. All we did was show the world what you’ve been doing.”

She glares at me, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t know the full story.”

“Then tell it,” I challenge, stepping closer to her. “Go ahead, Charlie. Explain yourself. But don’t come in here demanding we clean up your mess because you don’t like the fallout.”

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t respond.

“This isn’t over,” she says finally, her voice cold. “You’ll regret this.”

I’m about to fire back when I hear voices coming from the hallway.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Marcus’s voice drifts in, calm but insistent.

“Yes, yes, I’m okay,” Olivia replies, her tone quick and dismissive. A second later, the door opens, and they walk in.

Marcus looks ready to launch into something—probably about me ignoring his call—but his words falter the moment he sees Charlie standing in the middle of the room. His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene, and Olivia’s gaze darts between the two of us, her brow furrowing.

“What’s going on here?” Marcus asks, stepping further into the room.

“Charlie’s here to let us know how much she hates our latest episode,” I say dryly, crossing my arms.

Marcus’s expression hardens, and before I can say more, he turns to Charlie. “Ms. Green,” he starts, his voice calm but firm, “you seem to forget that I’m a psychiatrist. I’ve stayed out of this long enough, but let me make something clear. If you can’t forgive Jax for what happened all those years ago, the problem isn’t him—it’s you. He’s given up his life with us for the sake of his child. If that doesn’t prove anything to you, nothing will.”

Charlie’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t back down. “Oh, spare me the lectures. You think sacrificing his circus act with you is enough to erase the past? I have every right to protect my family.”

Marcus doesn’t flinch, but I can tell his patience is wearing thin. Before he can respond, Olivia steps forward, her posture straight and her voice sharp.

“And you forget that I’m rich,” Olivia says, her words cutting through the tension like a knife. “I employ very good lawyers who wanted to do far more to you than Jax allowed. But he wouldn’t consider it because he wanted to keep things civil. Let me tell you something—if you keep coming after us, I willinstruct those lawyers to take every measure possible to ensure you’re out of our lives.”

Charlie bristles, her face darkening. “Are you threatening me?”

Olivia’s smile is cold, her tone even. “No, I’m making a promise. And I’m very good at keeping my promises.”

The room is silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. Charlie stares at Olivia, her lips pressing into a thin line. Finally, with a glare that could burn through steel, she snatches her bag off the table and storms out of the studio, slamming the door behind her.

For a moment, none of us speak.

Olivia massages her forehead.

“Everything okay?” I ask, stepping towards us.

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