Then came the final blow.
"Mrs. Johnson," one of the officers said, his tone neutral, unfeeling. "Our lab just tested the biological evidence found in the hotel room. We identified your DNA, along with samples from multiple male individuals."
I couldn't breathe.
"And," he added, "we've traced the source of the original video upload. It came from your phone."
A sharp, broken laugh tore from Sean's throat. His shoulders heaved with fury.
All around me, eyes locked on—wide and glinting. Shock. Disgust. Cruel satisfaction. Like vultures circling the carcass of a truth they already believed.
And just like that, I was back there again. Right in the center of the same nightmare. Same humiliation. Same hopelessness.
Before I could react, a palm whipped across my cheek with brutal force.
The impact knocked me to the ground.
"You filthy whore!" a woman shrieked. "Seducing my husband and filming that trash? I'm going to beat you to death today!"
She lunged for me again, but the officers managed to hold her back.
"Why are you stopping me? Aren't you the police? She did something this disgusting—shouldn't she be arrested?"
"I swear, your days are numbered! The other wives are already on their way. You like messing around in bed, huh? Let's see if you're still smiling when we're done with you!"
I pushed myself up, barely able to find my voice.
"I didn't do it," I whispered, then tried louder. "It wasn't me! I was at my parents' apartment all night. They can vouch for me!"
But everyone only believed what they thought was true. My weak explanations just sounded like excuses.
"Her parents will definitely be covering for her," someone muttered. "It's obvious they're just as shameless."
The crowd thickened, drawn in by the spectacle.
"I know that woman," a new voice called out. "I saw her come home early this morning. She was wobbling all over the place, barely able to climb the stairs. I thought, 'Wow, young people really need to work on their stamina.' But now I get it—guess she just had too much sex."
"Her parents are both teachers. Who would've thought they'd raise a daughter like this? Maybe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
I looked up. The voice belonged to Laila Madison—my mother's colleague. She'd always held a grudge over a failed promotion, but I never imagined she'd seize the chance to publicly humiliate me to get back at my mother.