Chapter 8

8 There I was, spilling tea on the same hill where I lost my dad years ago. By my calculations, those two truth-bombs I'd dropped in the mail should've made some waves by now. The first? A sweet little exposé on how Isabella, that sneaky snake, jacked my artworks, stirring up more drama than a season of "Riverdale." The second? I @'d the Art Association. I mean, hello? Isabella tried to pass off some stolen artworks like it was her latest TikTok dance. Classic catfish move. TBH, I knew it was a total Hail Mary trying to get people to second guess dad's so-called "random" car crash. But sis, tonight? The voice memos on my new iPhone were about to drop like a diss track. Before heading here, I slid into the DMs of a few media peeps, spilling all the tea, every screenshot, every piece of evidence I'd collected over the years. Tonight wasn't just about some schoolyard beef. Nope. I was about to set the internet on fire with a reveal more shocking than any Twitter thread or Reddit expose. I hit record, gave my best intro, and spilled, "Last thing, I want every piece labeled 'Aurora Wilde' AKA Isabella Andrews to get a full-on X-ray glow up. 'Moon in the Sky'? Yeah, that's mine. And just FYI, I left a little Easter egg beneath it for all you art nerds. Peace out." I shot that clip to every contact, blogger, and influencer I knew. Mic. Drop. With everything out in the wild, I let the cops know where to find me. Just as the fire truck's wails crashed into the night, I took a sip from my "special" drink, the poison I prepared for myself, just for this moment. Ever since I stumbled upon that shady admissions dude five years back, I'd circled this date for the ultimate clapback. It was a one-way street. Before the cops got here, I should have already bid my farewell. I wanted Isabella's life to go from top influencer to cancelled faster than a bad tweet. And trust, her fam's DMs? They're about to be flooded. Not like they could read them. Tomorrow? It's officially sweater weather. And me, Autumn "Savage" Miller, your favorite drama queen, will take my final bow before my next sunrise. Regrets? Sorry, can’t relate.