Chapter 2: The Unwanted Invitation

The notifications hadn't stopped. Three days later, Ellie's phone still buzzed with the relentless rhythm of viral infamy. She'd tried everything—turning off notifications, muting keywords, even switching her phone to airplane mode—but the anxiety remained, a constant knot in her chest that tightened every time she caught a glimpse of her screen.

Her apartment felt smaller now, the towering bookshelves that once provided comfort now seeming to loom over her like silent judges. Even her favorite reading nook by the window offered no solace as Seattle's persistent drizzle painted gray streaks down the glass.

"You need to respond," Jessica's voice crackled through the phone speaker as Ellie stared at her laptop, cursor blinking mockingly in another empty text box. "Seriously, El. People are making up their own narratives about why you're staying quiet."

"What's the point?" Ellie pulled her oversized cardigan tighter around herself, cocooning in its familiar softness. "Anything I say will just give him more ammunition. You saw what happened to BookishBae last month when she tried to call him out."

"That was different. You have history, you have credibility—"

"Had," Ellie corrected bitterly. "I had credibility. Now I'm just the girl who couldn't handle criticism and ran away."

She'd made the mistake of looking at the comments on Cal's duet this morning. The consensus was clear: Ellie Vance was a hypocrite who preached positivity while blocking anyone who disagreed with her. A fair-weather advocate who championed 'problematic' books without acknowledging their flaws. A pretty face with no substance, riding the wave of romance's popularity without truly understanding the genre's complexities.

The worst part was that some of it stung because it held kernels of truth wrapped in cruelty.

"Listen," Jessica's tone shifted, becoming gentler. "I know this sucks. But you can't let one toxic asshole drive you off the internet forever. Remember why you started @ElliesEndlessShelves? Remember all the readers who told you your content helped them discover their next favorite book?"

Ellie did remember. She remembered the shy teenager who'd messaged her about finding confidence through romance heroines, the recent divorcee who'd rediscovered joy in love stories, the dozens of small authors whose careers had been boosted by her genuine enthusiasm for their work.

But she also remembered the slow transformation of her comments section from celebration to criticism, the way her inbox had filled with demands to address every controversy, to take sides in every fandom war. The way her love of books had begun to feel performative, filtered through the lens of what would play well to an audience that seemed increasingly impossible to please.

"Maybe I'm just not cut out for this," she whispered. "Maybe he's right. Maybe I am too naive, too—"

Her laptop chimed with an email notification, interrupting her spiral of self-doubt. The sender made her heart skip: [email protected].

"Hold on, Jess." Ellie's hands trembled slightly as she clicked the message open.

Dear Ms. Vance,

We hope this email finds you well. We've been following the recent discourse in the romance community with great interest, and we believe your voice represents an important perspective that often gets overlooked in online spaces.

LitCon is committed to fostering meaningful dialogue about the books and communities we love. This year's theme, "Love, Literature, and the Digital Age," aims to explore how social media has transformed reader culture—both positively and negatively.

We would be honored to have you participate in our keynote panel: "The Future of Online Book Communities: Building Bridges or Burning Books?" The panel will take place on Saturday, November 16th, in front of our largest audience—over 2,000 attendees, plus livestream viewers.

We believe this could be an opportunity for you to share your vision for a more positive, inclusive book community directly with the readers and creators who matter most.

Ellie's eyes scanned quickly to the signature, her excitement building. LitCon was the romance convention—the one every author, blogger, and BookTuber dreamed of being invited to. This was career-making territory, the kind of opportunity that could rebuild everything she'd lost and more.

But then she saw the next paragraph, and her world tilted sideways.

Please note that this will be a debate-style panel with multiple perspectives represented. Your co-panelist will be Caleb Thorne (@TheLitCritik), whose critical approach to romance literature provides an interesting counterpoint to your more celebratory stance.

We believe the dynamic between your perspectives could create exactly the kind of thoughtful, nuanced conversation our community needs.

The email continued with logistical details—flight arrangements, hotel accommodations, a generous speaking fee that would solve her mounting financial problems—but Ellie couldn't focus on anything beyond those two sentences.

Caleb Thorne. Her tormentor. The man who'd just spent three days publicly eviscerating her would be sitting three feet away, in front of thousands of people, with a microphone and a platform to continue his destruction.

"El? You still there?" Jessica's voice seemed to come from very far away.

"They want me on a panel," Ellie said faintly. "LitCon. The main stage."

"Holy shit! That's amazing! That's—wait, why do you sound like someone just told you your dog died?"

"Because," Ellie scrolled back up to reread the nightmare scenario laid out in professional email formatting, "they want me to do it with him. With Cal. It's a debate panel."

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

"Jess?"

"I'm here, I'm just... wow. That's either the best opportunity you've ever been handed or the most elaborate trap in internet history."

Ellie laughed, but it came out cracked and bitter. "Right? I can see the headlines now: 'Local Book Blogger Destroyed Live on Stage, Thousands Watch.'"

"Or," Jessica's voice took on that determined tone Ellie knew meant her best friend was about to give her a pep talk whether she wanted one or not, "you could show everyone exactly why your voice matters. You could prove that positivity isn't weakness, that loving books doesn't make you stupid."

"Against him? Jess, you've seen his videos. He doesn't just argue—he demolishes people. He turns every conversation into a performance of intellectual superiority. I can't—" Ellie's voice broke. "I can't handle being humiliated like that in public."

"So don't let him."

The simple statement hung in the air between them.

"What?"

"Don't let him humiliate you. You know books just as well as he does—probably better, since you actually seem to enjoy them instead of just finding fault. You've read more romance novels than most people read books, period. You know this community, you know what readers actually want."

Ellie stared at her reflection in her laptop screen, seeing a woman who looked smaller than she remembered. When had she started believing that her love of books was somehow less valid than Cal's criticism of them? When had she decided that kindness was weakness?

"I don't know if I can do it," she admitted.

"You don't have to decide right now. But El? Don't let fear make the choice for you. You've been hiding for six months, and look where it got you—he dragged you back into the spotlight anyway, but on his terms. What if you took control of the narrative for once?"

After Jessica hung up, Ellie sat in the gathering dusk of her apartment, surrounded by thousands of books that had shaped her into who she was. Romance novels that had taught her about strength and vulnerability, about fighting for what mattered, about the power of love to transform even the most unlikely enemies.

Her phone buzzed again—more notifications from the video that refused to die, more strangers debating her worth in comment sections across the internet. She was already in the arena, already bleeding. The question was whether she'd face her opponent standing up or on her knees.

The LitCon email sat open on her laptop, cursor blinking in the reply box like a heartbeat.

Two choices stretched before her: retreat further into the shadows and let Caleb Thorne's version of her story become the only one that mattered, or step onto that stage and remind everyone—including herself—why she'd fallen in love with books in the first place.

Her fingers found the keyboard.

Dear LitCon Team,

Thank you for this incredible opportunity. I accept your invitation to participate in the keynote panel.

I look forward to representing the readers and creators who believe that criticism and celebration can coexist, and that the future of our community depends on choosing connection over conflict.

I'll see you on November 16th.

Best regards, Elara Vance

She hit send before she could change her mind, then immediately grabbed her phone to text Jessica: I did it. I'm going to die, but I did it.

The response came back instantly: You're going to be amazing. Time to remind everyone why they fell in love with your content in the first place.

But as Ellie sat in her apartment, surrounded by the books that had been her refuge and her battleground, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just signed up for the fight of her life against an opponent who'd never shown mercy to anyone.

The only question now was whether she remembered how to be brave enough to fight back.