He Erased Me From The Photo I Erased Him From My Life Chapter 22
Sloane finally realized her microphone was still on.
She ended the livestream in a panic.
But the screen recording had already gone viral among Owen’s old social circle.
Within half an hour, her post attacking me was deleted. The “family photo” and the fake ER post vanished from her feed.
But deleting them didn’t stop the fallout.
Cal’s relatives were demanding in group chats why she had used his estate as an excuse to check into a hotel, and how she could claim to miss her dead husband while sleeping with his best friend.
This time, no one was making excuses for her.
Liam posted the exact words he had said to me at the restaurant tasting.
“I told Natalie that Sloane felt more like family and that she should be the bigger person. Looking back, I see that we were all just enabling them, normalizing their behavior until it destroyed everything.”
He tagged me in his public apology.
I didn’t like it.
I didn’t reply.
Their belated clarity meant nothing to me.
That afternoon, my lawyer called.
“Sloane is willing to post a public retraction, delete all accusations against you and the company, and sign an agreement not to contact your employer again. In exchange, she wants you to remove the screenshots of the hotel and pharmacy receipts.”
“The statement has already been released. It stays up.”
“She’s claiming it’s an invasion of her privacy.”
I looked out the window. Down on the street below, people walked past—someone with a dog, someone else carrying a fresh cup of coffee. No one knew or cared about the melodrama unfolding in Chicago.
“My lawyer’s statement was a direct response to her public, defamatory accusations, and all private identifying details were redacted.”
I turned my gaze back to my office.
“She deletes her lies and posts the retraction first. We can discuss when the facts are no longer public once the damage she caused has been contained.”
My lawyer gave a short, satisfied laugh. “Understood.”
By evening, Sloane had posted the retraction.
She admitted that I had never asked Owen to abandon Lucy, and that I had not “forced” anyone to do anything.
She also admitted that by naming me and my employer, she had intentionally created a false and damaging narrative.
The statement was short and to the point.
No tears.
No mention of her dead husband.
At the bottom was the 72-hour pin requirement demanded by my counsel.
I forwarded the link to HR.
They replied with a single line: “Archived. Matter closed.”
By the time I shut down my email, Naomi was already standing at my desk with her bag over her shoulder.
“Are we still going to that concert tonight?”
I checked the time.
The e-ticket, for the concert we’d had to skip weeks ago because of a deadline, was still sitting in my phone’s wallet.
“Yes.”
Before walking out of the building, I deleted Instagram from my phone.
How many people had seen the livestream, what other friends Sloane might lose—none of it required my attention.
I had placed the evidence in front of the people who needed to see it.
The rest, they had said with their own mouths.