Paris: A Memoir for Young Women in the Age of Influencers

by Paris Hilton

I was in Australia when he called to tell me that a thirty-seven-second video clip of me having sex was circulating on the internet. My first reaction was, “What? No! I never did anything like that.” I thought someone made a fake video or something. It took me a minute to make the connection to that private video. I had to close my eyes and breathe. I felt like I was going to throw up. It was inconceivable to me. There’s no reason to think a random guy you meet in a bar could be that rotten. Or that smart. Within hours, news of the tape was everywhere, along with rumors that there was a full-length porno pending release. Everything I’d been working so hard for—I felt it all crumbling to shit. I called him and begged. “Please, please, please, don’t do this.” He sounded distant and cool, saying it was too late, it was already out there. He said he had every right to sell something that belonged to him—something that had a lot of financial value. More value than my privacy, obviously. My dignity. My future. Shame, loss, and stark terror swept over me. I hung up the phone, trying to think what I should do next. I’d have to tell the producers of the show. Worse than that, I’d have to tell my parents. I couldn’t even wrap my head around it. At first, all I could do was cry and cry—wrenching, raw, chest-deep sobs. I felt like my life was over, and in many ways, it was.