I made this a two-parter by adding Ellen’s POV and another chapter.
Chapter 329 is being edited and will be posted in an hour or two.
Dragonborn Conqueror and The Son of Ice and Fire chapters will be posted tomorrow.
Green Lantern will posted in the morning.
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Ellen stared at her phone.
Every refresh brought a new post, a new headline. People who had once cheered when she danced through the audience were now sharing stories, laughing at jokes, and twisting her name into something ugly.
“Ellen Degenerate,” she read aloud.
Her voice shook with disbelief more than hurt.
“They’re calling me Ellen Degenerate now.”
Portia, her wife, stood near the windows with her arms folded loosely across her chest.
Ellen scrolled again.
“They all turned on me.”
Her manager’s voice came through the phone on the table.
“Ellen, I need you to calm down.”
“I am calm.”
“You are not calm.”
“I did nothing wrong.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“We can fix this,” he said carefully. “But we need to stop reacting emotionally. We need time. We need to slow the story down, prepare a controlled statement, and let the network conduct a review.”
Ellen laughed, sharp and humorless.
“That is what you said last week. You said we needed time last week, and it has only gotten worse. Every hour, there’s another article. Another assistant. Another writer. Another person crying online about how fucking hard their job was.”
“Some of these claims are serious.”
“So what if some bad apples worked for me?” Ellen snapped. “That doesn’t make it my fault.”
Portia turned from the window.
“Come on, Ellen.”
Ellen looked up.
“What?”
“You knew about Brad.”
The room went silent.
Her manager did not speak.
Ellen’s face tightened. “That was complicated.”
“Was it?”
“Yes, Portia, it was. Brad was an important part of production. He kept the show moving. He handled things other people couldn’t handle.”
“He was accused of harassing an intern.”
“He was accused,” Ellen said, emphasizing the word. “People accuse powerful people of things all the time.”
Portia stared at her.
“It was bad, Ellen.”
“And I was supposed to destroy someone’s career because of one claim? What if she was lying? What if she misunderstood something? What if it was all about money?”
Portia’s expression cooled.
Ellen looked away first.
Her manager cleared his throat.
“Look, we can survive this.”
“My image is being ripped apart.”
“I know. Listen to me.”
“No, you don’t know. My whole life is being turned into a joke.”
Portia said, “I told you not to do that Adler thing. It was kind of low. Well, not lower than you trying to give champagne to Mariah Carey, but yeah, it was low.”
Ellen’s eyes snapped toward her.
“What does that have to do with this?”
“Everything.”
“That segment was Ryan joking. That was nothing.”
“It started the hashtag,” Portia said. “Ryan came on your show, you let him pile on Adler, and the whole joke was that Daniel hated you because you were too nice. Then people started asking who hated Ellen, and suddenly the answer was half your former and current staff.”
Ellen said nothing.
Portia continued, “You brought this down on yourself.”
“That is not my fault. You’re acting like I caused this.”
“I’m saying you poked someone you shouldn’t have poked.”
Ellen looked back down at her phone.
Daniel Adler’s name was everywhere now, sometimes directly, sometimes indirectly. Half the posts claimed he had known all along. Some said he had avoided the show for years because he knew what she was. Others accused him of orchestrating the entire collapse from behind the scenes.
It was ridiculous.
It had to be ridiculous.
Her manager spoke again.
“We have a plan.”
Ellen closed her eyes. “Good.”
“You make an apology.”
“No.”
“Ellen.”
“I am not going on television and begging forgiveness for things I didn’t do.”
“You don’t admit intentional wrongdoing. You say you were unaware of the full extent of the workplace issues, that you are heartbroken to learn people felt hurt, and that you are committed to making the show a safe, respectful place.”
Portia shook her head.
“That’s worse.”
The manager sighed. “No, it isn’t.”
“It makes her sound like she had no idea what was happening on her own show. It’s her show. Her name is on it.”
“That is better than sounding like she did know.”
Ellen’s grip tightened around her phone.
“We need to make it clear I’m a victim too,” she said.
Portia went still.
Her manager hesitated only a second too long before answering.
“There may be a way to frame some of it that way.”
“Good.”
“Not as a victim of the employees,” he clarified. “But as the victim of a toxic production environment that grew beyond your direct control. You can say you trusted people who failed to uphold the values of the show.”
“Yes,” Ellen said quickly. “Exactly. I trusted them.”
The manager continued, gaining confidence.
“We bring together a group of celebrities who support you. People who have been on the show. People you helped. People who can talk about your kindness and generosity.”
“That would work,” Ellen said.
“It could help stabilize the public narrative.”
“Jennifer will say something. Kevin. Maybe Oprah.”
“We’ll reach out.”
Ellen stood and began pacing.
“They know me. These people know me. They owe me.”
=========
Three days later, Ellen was back on the phone once more, talking to her manager.
She sat on the edge of the couch, one hand pressed against her forehead, staring at nothing while her manager spoke.
“They’re distancing themselves.”
“What do you mean, distancing themselves?”
“I mean they’re declining to comment. Most of them don’t want to be involved.”
“Declining to comment.”
“Yes.”
“For me.”
“Ellen.”
“All these years,” she said. “I just talked to Jennifer. She said she will. I…”
“It’s not personal. It’s business. The story is too hot right now.”
“No,” she said. “They’re cowards.”
Her manager’s voice lowered.
“I think we misread the scope of this.”
She looked up slowly.
“What does that mean?”
“It means this is bigger than former staff complaining online. The industry is watching very carefully. Privately, some people have started framing this as Adler versus Ellen.”
“There is no Adler versus Ellen.”
“I have nothing against him.”
“This is not about Daniel Adler.”
She said it all in quick succession.
“Maybe not to you,” the manager said. “But to other people, the timing is hard to ignore. You had Ryan bring him up. The hashtag started there. Then, almost immediately, former staffers came forward, and major outlets had stories ready.”
“You know the rumors, Ellen. About Weinstein. I know they can’t be true, and no one talks about it openly, but there are rumors. Adler has gained a reputation among us representatives. You know a lot of firms try to stay cordial with him.”
Ellen swallowed.
“You think he’s behind this?”
“I think people are saying he might be.”
“People?”
“Agents. Producers. Publicists. A few executives.”
“That’s insane.”
“It is all circumstantial. Rumors. Industry gossip. No proof. But the belief alone matters.”
“If people think Adler is behind this,” Ellen said quietly, “they don’t want to get in the middle of it.”
Her manager said nothing.
“He has too much reach,” he continued after a moment. “Studios, streaming, tech, publishing, gaming, social media, talent relationships. Even people who like you, your closest friends, are asking whether defending you publicly is worth potentially angering him.”
Ellen stared at the floor.
After a moment, he said, “The network is discussing a hiatus.”
“No.”
“It may only be temporary.”
“No.”
“Ellen, listen to me.”
“No.”
“They want time for the investigation. They want advertisers to calm down. They want the story off the air.”
“They can’t take me off.”
“No one is saying permanently.”
“They can’t take me off my own show.”
“Ellen.”
“I did nothing wrong.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. Nobody knows. Everybody wants a villain, so now it’s me.”
“We can still recover,” he said, though he sounded less certain than before. “But we need to reduce the pressure inside the industry. That means making sure this does not become a feud with Adler.”
“I told you, there is no feud.”
“Then we need to make that clear. We should reach out to Mr. Adler’s people. Quietly. Make sure there is no bad blood. If he signals, even privately, that he is not involved and has no interest in piling on, some of the fear may cool down.”
Ellen laughed once. It was weak and bitter.
“The network can’t do this,” Ellen whispered.
Her manager said nothing.
“I built that show.”
“I did nothing wrong.”
The manager’s voice came softly through the phone.
“I know, Ellen.”
She stared at the black television screen across the room and saw her own reflection staring back.
Smaller than she remembered.
“I did nothing wrong.”