Thud.
The phone slipped from Grace’s hand, landing softly on the carpet.
Startled, little Gianna let out a wail.
“Gianna!”
Grace quickly fumbled to comfort her.
That feeling was back.
The suffocating sensation of being condemned by the world, cursed by millions, with no way to defend herself.
“Grace!”
Lottie tossed her sketchbook aside, rushed over, and snatched up the phone.
She took one look at the screen, and her expression instantly darkened.
“What is all this nonsense?”
Lottie clicked on the so-called “recording.”
Listening to the AI-generated voice speak those twisted words, Lottie actually laughed out of sheer anger.
“Living in luxury? Cold-blooded?”
Lottie’s chest ached sharply at the sight of Grace’s ashen face.
She went over, knelt in front of Grace, and pulled both her and the still-trembling Gianna into a tight hug.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Lottie’s voice was soft yet firm. “Grace, look at me. None of this is real. It’s all fake.”
“But…” Grace looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. “They’re all attacking you. They’re saying we’re illegitimate, that Mom…”
She didn’t care if they insulted her.
She was used to it.
I’ve been through so much worse that this barely even stings anymore.
But Lottie was different.

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