Breaking Hollywood(83)

“But she would know that no news site would touch the tapes because it was obtained illegally, and if they printed anything, they’d be looking at a lawsuit,” Julian says.

“Exactly.” Charly nods. “But, if it appears that it was the girlfriend who taped the conversation and she signed over the story to Sadie, then she could sell the tapes and story, no problem.”

“And, if Gabe did sue, then it’d be Ava who got hit with the lawsuit because it was her signature on the contract.”

“You got it, baby.” She smiles at Vaughn before looking back at me. “So, I decided to Google Sadie, see what I could find out about her. The name the lady at the cleaning company gave me was Sadie Black, so I searched that but came up dry. So, we went to Digby’s website to see if we could find anything on there, but there was nothing. Then, I clicked on Gabe’s story and saw that it was written by someone called Sandy White.”

“Sadie Black and Sandy White.” Julian lifts a brow.

“Exactly.”

“So, I Google Sandy White and Digby’s Dirt, and a bunch of stories came up that she’d written about other celebs. So, I went onto Images and scrolled through the pictures. Ava stopped me, pointing at a picture, saying that it was Sadie, and in the picture with her was Bradford Digby.”

“Fucking Digby,” Vaughn growls.

Charly pulls her phone from her pocket, swipes the screen, and turns it around for me to see. “Look familiar?”

I take the phone from her and stare at the picture.

Holy fuck, she’s right.

It’s her—the chick who cleans my apartment. She looks a bit different in this picture to how I normally see her, but it’s definitely her.

“That’s her.” I grit my teeth. “That’s the chick who cleans here.”

“That’s Sandy White the journalist, who pretended to be Sadie the cleaner, so she could bug your apartment and record your conversations.”

“You think her and Digby were in on it together?” Vaughn asks.

“Yeah. I think that Sandy is a staff writer for him, and I think, when he gets wind of a story, he sends her in undercover to sniff it out. She’s written all the big exposés that he’s done over the last few years. It was her who wrote the story about Piper and Cain,” Charly says to Vaughn.

I see his eyes darken with anger.

But all I can feel is my own anger. I blamed Ava. I yelled at her. I said some awful things to her.

I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to control the anger I feel.

“Gabe?” That’s Charly.

I open my eyes and hand Charly her phone back. “What I don’t get is how Digby would have known there was a story to be had about me. No one knew about my past.”

“Someone always knows,” Julian says.

And he’s right; there is.

“Maybe Digby heard something on the grapevine,” Charly says. “Or maybe he was after a completely different story. If so, then I bet they thought they’d hit the mother lode of all jackpots when they listened to your conversation with Ava.”

I tip my head back and cover my face with my hands.

“Gabe, you okay?” Julian asks.

I lower my head, dragging my fingers through my hair. “Yeah.” No. “I’m just trying to get my head around it all.”

“Ava was telling you the truth,” Charly says softly.

She was. And I didn’t believe her.

God, I’m such a fucking asshole.

“I can’t believe you figured this all out,” Julian says to her. “You’re seriously badass, Charly.”

“I can’t take all the credit.” She shrugs. “It was Ava as well. We figured it out together.”

I was here, hating on her, thinking that she’d betrayed me. All that time, she’d done nothing wrong, and she was out there, trying to clear her name.

I’ve never hated myself more than I do in this moment.

“She wanted to come, Gabe…to tell you herself, but she didn’t think you would listen to her,” Charly says.

And that hurts the most because she was right. I wouldn’t have listened.

Jesus, I’ve fucked things up so very badly.

I need to see Ava now.

“Where is she?” I ask Charly.

“She’s at the hotel. I can take you to her. I came in Ava’s car, so we should be able to get you out without the paparazzi seeing you, as I don’t think they’ll expect you to be driven around in a Smart car.”

“Is that the car that broke your foot?” Vaughn grins.

“Not now,” I growl at him. “Can you just call Gil, explain everything to him, and have him call my lawyers? Oh, and we need to get someone to do a sweep for bugs in my apartment as well.”