The online outrage spread like wildfire. Within hours, my photos topped every trending list. People called me names such as “unfilial daughter,” “scammer,” and “garbage woman.” Those labels became who I was.
Then the live streamers turned the crowd against me. Spectators began hurling rotten vegetables and eggs, shouting insults as I forced my way through the chaos.
Despite that, I stepped over trash and broken shells, walked straight up to Caleb, and asked quietly, “Do you really have to go this far, Caleb?”
He frowned, and before he could answer, Brielle spoke up with tears shimmering in her eyes.
“Aria,” she whimpered, “I know your mom’s gone, but I’ve been suffering too! Please, just let me go. Stop tormenting me already!”
Seeing her pitiful act, Caleb’s gaze softened instantly.
Then he turned to me, his tone filled with cold contempt. “Aria, you brought this on yourself. Your mom got hit because she was faking an accident. You shouldn’t have dragged Brielle through endless lawsuits. She even had to pay to fix her car after your mom wrecked it, and she never asked you for a dime. That’s called kindness. But you, you just kept pushing. With a heart as rotten as yours, it’s no wonder your mother died early!”
The words had barely left his mouth when a familiar voice cut through the crowd.
“Who did you just say is dead?” my mother asked sharply, stepping out from the onlookers.
