Chapter 3
News of my death was making waves online.
The hashtag "Homewrecker kills herself out of guilt" shot straight to the top of the trending topics.
I hovered behind Alvin, watching him type rapidly.
On the screen was my Twitter profile.
The latest post was the one I'd made right before I jumped. [I'm not a homewrecker.]
There were over a hundred thousand comments below it.
[Good. She should have been gone ages ago. I hate people like her.]
[Out of guilt? That sounds way too nice. All the terrible things you did should be exposed. Your whole family should hang your heads in shame.]
[Guys, watch your mouth. She's dead. Honestly, I just wonder what happened. You know, she must have done something wrong.]
[This is so satisfying. Jane, you're finally free. Congrats.]
Jane had just posted on Twitter about half an hour ago.
She posted a close photo with Fabian, captioned: [The storm has passed. Thanks for always being there. Just forget about the past. May the dead rest in peace.]
All the comments were supportive.
[Don't cry, Jane. We're all here for you.]
[I'm happy for you, Jane. You finally got rid of that nasty woman.]
[I wish Mr. Watts and Jane all the best. Don't let that crazy woman get to you.]
Fabian shared it instantly and commented, [I'll always be by your side.]
How ironic.
I read the cruel messages and the twisted lies, and it hurt my soul.
All year long, this was my life.
I tried to explain myself, but nobody cared. I called the cops, but they said online harassment was too hard to prove and told me to figure it out myself.
I sent lawyer letters, but they just mocked me.
They leaked my address, phone, and ID, turned my photos into scary images, and sent me nasty letters.
They drove me into despair.
Alvin watched everything with a blank expression. He clicked on an ID, one of the main culprits harassing me online, a beauty blogger who went by "JudgeOfDrama".
Just earlier, she'd left a comment under my Twitter post. [Good to see her dead. Let's celebrate. Everything in today's livestream is half price.]
Alvin tapped a few keys, and a window popped up.
Inside was all that blogger's personal info.
Her real name was Molly.
Alvin had her address, right down to the house number.
There was a password-protected folder, and Alvin cracked it in seconds.
Inside were all kinds of compromising videos and photos of Molly with different guys, and even files showing exactly how she dodged her taxes.
"Got you," Alvin said quietly.
He didn't rush to leak anything. Instead, he carefully sorted all the files into categories, then launched another tool on his computer.
It was a black screen, with lines of code scrolling by.
I couldn't make sense of it. "Alvin, what are you doing?"
I couldn't help myself, even though I knew he couldn't hear me.
He paused, glanced back at my room, his eyes lingering on my framed photo.
"Elise, you always loved fireworks, didn't you? The real show takes ages to set up, and only explodes in the darkest night," he murmured. "Right now, I'm just collecting the gunpowder."
As he spoke, he pulled up a list crammed with usernames.
Every single one had used the nastiest words against me.
JudgeOfDrama was right at the top of the list.
Alvin selected her name and put a tiny red checkmark next to it.
Then he kept scrolling, moving on to the next name.
The next target was a guy who called himself a college professor. He'd written a long post, analyzing why I was supposedly so morally corrupt.
Alvin tapped a few keys, and the professor's computer desktop flashed onto the screen.
He was video chatting with someone while his wife walked into the study carrying a plate of fruit.
Alvin sneered.
He closed the window and marked a red check next to the professor's name.
One after another, he went through each person's deeds like a judge, marking them for punishment.
I looked at him and suddenly understood that he wasn't just collecting gunpowder.
He was drawing up a death list.