Chapter 5: The Aftershocks

Elara woke to the sound of her phone buzzing incessantly on the nightstand. Sunlight streamed through her bedroom windows, and for a moment, she felt disoriented—had she overslept? Then the events of the previous night came flooding back: the reunion, the confrontation, the look of absolute devastation on Aia's face as her world crumbled in real-time.

She reached for her phone, squinting at the screen. Forty-seven missed calls. One hundred and thirty-two text messages. Her email inbox showed 200+ unread messages.

The first text was from Jenny Martinez, sent at 11:47 PM: Holy shit Elara! The video is everywhere! Channel 8 wants to interview you!

The second was from an unknown number at 12:23 AM: This is Rebecca Santos from Dallas Morning News. We'd like to speak with you about the incident at Greenwood Elementary.

Her hands trembling slightly, Elara opened Twitter. The hashtag #GreenwoodTruth was trending nationally now, not just locally. The video from the reunion had been shared thousands of times, spawning reaction videos, think pieces, and heated debates about childhood bullying, accountability, and the performative nature of social justice activism.

But it was the notifications from her news alerts that made her pulse quicken with dark satisfaction.

Morrison & Associates Terminates Relationship with Controversial PR Director - Dallas Business Journal, 6:42 AM

Social Justice Advocate Exposed as Childhood Racist Bully - The Dallas Observer, 7:15 AM

PR Firm Cuts Ties After Viral Video Reveals Employee's History of Racial Harassment - Texas Tribune, 7:33 AM

Elara sat up in bed, her heart racing with adrenaline. She opened the first article with fingers that barely shook anymore.

Morrison & Associates issued a statement early this morning announcing the immediate termination of Senior Director Aia Adebayo following revelations about her history of racially motivated bullying. The announcement comes less than twelve hours after video footage from a school reunion went viral, showing documented evidence of Adebayo's systematic harassment of a Hispanic classmate in elementary school.

"Morrison & Associates has zero tolerance for discrimination in any form," the statement read. "Upon learning of these allegations and reviewing the documented evidence, we have terminated Ms. Adebayo's employment effective immediately. We extend our sincere apologies to any clients or community partners who may have been affected by this individual's actions."

Elara's coffee maker gurgled to life—she'd set it on a timer the night before, some distant part of her brain still functioning normally even as she'd orchestrated someone else's destruction. She padded to the kitchen, reading article after article on her phone.

The local news had picked up the story within hours. Channel 8's morning show was running segments about "The Dark Side of Social Media Justice" and "When Activists Become What They Fight Against." The irony wasn't lost on anyone—the woman who had built her career on crisis management was experiencing a crisis she couldn't manage.

Her phone rang. Marcus.

"Jesus Christ, Elara," his voice was a mixture of awe and concern. "Are you okay? The video is everywhere. I had no idea—why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

For a moment, she considered lying, maintaining the fiction that last night had been a spontaneous confrontation born of childhood trauma finally bubbling over. But Marcus deserved better than that.

"Because I knew you'd try to talk me out of it," she said simply.

The silence on the other end stretched long enough that she wondered if the call had dropped.

"Talk you out of what, exactly?" His voice was careful now, lawyer-precise.

"The research. The planning. The systematic destruction of her life over the past two weeks." The words came out matter-of-factly, as if she were describing her morning routine.

Another long pause. "Elara... what did you do?"

She told him everything. The box from her mother's attic, the evidence, the careful campaign to expose Aia's hypocrisy to her employers, her fiancé, her clients. As she spoke, she watched the news coverage on her laptop, CNN now picking up the story for their afternoon programming.

"Her engagement party was supposed to be this weekend," Elara said, watching a clip of David Chen's law firm issuing a statement distancing themselves from their "former associate's personal relationships." "David called it off after I sent him copies of the evidence. Apparently, he specializes in hate crime prosecution. The irony was too much even for him."

"Elara..." Marcus's voice was strained. "I don't know who you've become."

The words hit her like a physical blow, but she pushed the pain aside. She'd known this was a possibility—that her transformation would cost her the man she loved. But some prices were worth paying.

"I became someone who doesn't let bullies win," she said quietly.

After hanging up, Elara returned to her laptop and the endless stream of coverage. The story had legs—everything about it was perfect for the current cultural moment. A successful woman of color exposed as a hypocrite. The documentation of childhood racism. The performative activism industry getting a black eye. The satisfying downfall of someone who had seemingly had it all.

Her phone chimed with a new notification. A direct message on Instagram from an account she didn't recognize: AdebaV_2024

Please. I'm begging you. Can we talk? I lost everything. My job, my fiancé, my reputation. I know I hurt you as a child, but this... this is destroying my entire life. Please call me. Please.

Elara stared at the message for a long moment. Twenty-four hours ago, she might have felt a flicker of sympathy. But now, reading Aia's desperate pleas while watching news anchors discuss the "Greenwood Elementary scandal" on three different channels, she felt only cold satisfaction.

She typed back: You signed your work, Aia. Now you get to own it.

Then she blocked the account.

Her laptop chimed with a new email notification. The subject line made her breath catch: RE: Henderson Elementary School Administrative Review

Ms. Castillo,

I am writing on behalf of the Garland Independent School District regarding former Principal James Henderson of Greenwood Elementary School (now Henderson Elementary). In light of recent public allegations regarding mishandling of racial harassment complaints during Mr. Henderson's tenure, the district is conducting a comprehensive review of his administrative record.

We understand you may have relevant information regarding incidents that occurred during the 1998-2000 academic years. Would you be available for a formal interview with our investigative committee?

Additionally, please be advised that the district has voted to rename Henderson Elementary School pending the outcome of this investigation.

Sincerely, Dr. Maria Rodriguez Superintendent, Garland ISD

Elara leaned back in her chair, a smile spreading across her face. Even Henderson—the man who had enabled Aia's cruelty, who had dismissed her mother's concerns, who had suggested an eight-year-old might vandalize her own artwork for attention—was finally facing consequences.

The circle was complete.

Her phone rang again. This time it was her mother.

"Mija," Carmen's voice was proud but concerned. "I saw the news. Are you all right?"

"I'm perfect, Mamá." And for the first time in weeks, Elara meant it completely.

"That girl... she's lost everything, hasn't she?"

"Everything," Elara confirmed, watching a TMZ segment about Aia's "spectacular fall from grace." "Her job, her fiancé, her reputation, her clients. She'll never work in PR again. No social justice organization will touch her. Her name is permanently linked to racism and hypocrisy."

Carmen was quiet for a moment. "And how do you feel?"

It was a therapist's question, the kind Carmen had learned to ask during Elara's years of healing. But the answer came without hesitation.

"Satisfied," Elara said. "For the first time in twenty years, I feel like justice was actually served."

As the day progressed, the aftershocks continued to ripple outward. Aia's former clients began issuing statements distancing themselves from their former PR representative. The North Texas LGBTQ+ Center announced they were reviewing all their previous campaigns handled by Morrison & Associates. The Regional Anti-Racism Task Force called an emergency board meeting to discuss "recent revelations about our former communications partner."

By evening, #GreenwoodTruth was trending alongside #AccountabilityMatters and #ChildhoodTraumaIsReal. Think pieces were appearing in major publications about the long-term effects of school bullying, the importance of believing children who report harassment, and the hollow nature of performative activism.

Elara ordered Thai food and settled in to watch the evening news coverage. The local anchor was interviewing a child psychologist about the lasting effects of racial bullying, using Elara's story as a case study in resilience and delayed justice.

"What we see here," the psychologist was saying, "is a victim who was failed by the adults who should have protected her, who then spent decades healing from trauma while her abuser faced no consequences and actually profited from a career built on the very issues she helped create."

The screen showed the now-famous photograph of Elara's defaced self-portrait, Aia's initials clearly visible in the corner.

"The documentation in this case is particularly compelling because it shows premeditation. This wasn't just playground teasing—this was systematic, racially motivated harassment carried out by a child old enough to understand the impact of her actions."

Elara's phone buzzed with another message from the blocked Instagram account—somehow Aia had created a new profile: Please, I'm sorry. I was a child. I've learned and grown. This is ruining my life. My parents are getting death threats. Please make it stop.

Elara screenshot the message, then blocked this account as well. The desperation was almost beautiful—Aia finally experiencing the helplessness that Elara had lived with for years.

As she settled into bed that night, Elara's phone showed seventeen interview requests from major news outlets, forty-three speaking engagement inquiries, and an email from a literary agent interested in her story.

The little girl who had once cried over torn drawings had grown up to become exactly what Aia had pretended to be—a voice for the voiceless, an advocate for justice, a woman who refused to let bullies win.

The only difference was that Elara's advocacy was real.

And Aia Adebayo would never recover from learning that lesson.