Chapter 3

The next day, rumors started swirling around our small apartment complex.

When my mom went downstairs to take out the trash, neighbors who used to greet her with a smile now steered clear, as if she carried some contagious disease.

A bunch of old ladies huddled together, pointing and gossiping in our direction, their voices pitched just right so my mom could hear every word.

"That's Briana, right? Out there selling herself, and she still had the nerve to come back as a bridesmaid. No shame at all," one whispered.

"I heard her rates aren't cheap either," another chimed in.

"No wonder they remodeled last year. So that's where the money came from. So dirty," a third voice added.

My mom stood there, frozen with the trash can in her hand, her face shifting from red to pale.

That night, one of my dad's buddies called him up, saying the rumors had spread all over his workplace.

People were gossiping in full color, talking about how I got busted at the wedding and how some clients showed up right in front of everyone.

My dad, who'd always been obsessed with keeping up appearances, was so pissed off he skipped dinner entirely.

But Monica, the one who started all this, acted like nothing was wrong. She went wild on social media, showing off her picture-perfect newlywed life.

One day, she flaunted a designer bag Philip bought her. Next, she posted about their fancy dinner at some upscale restaurant. Then she bragged about the gift from Philip's family.

Under every post, our mutual friends were all over it, liking and commenting, gushing about how lucky she was and how happy she looked.

No one remembered how cruelly she destroyed another girl's life.

The harassing calls and texts just wouldn't stop, and some people even tracked down our home phone number.

I ended up yanking the cord out.

But it didn't stop there.

That afternoon, Linda showed up at our door with a bunch of relatives, looking like they were ready for a fight.

"Briana, get your ass out of here." Linda pounded on the iron gate, making a racket that echoed through the whole building.

My mom opened the door and stepped in front of me. "Linda, what do you want now? Isn't it enough what your daughter did to Briana?"

"We hurt her?" Linda scoffed, as she'd just heard the biggest joke ever. "She's the one acting all trashy, messing with Monica. She's nothing but a hooker, and she thinks she has the right to ruin our wedding?

"Now the whole White clan is making fun of us. They're saying our family's neighbors are with a hooker.

"How am I supposed to show my face now?

"You'd better give our family an answer."

I stepped out from behind my mom, fixing Linda with a cold stare. "What kind of answer are you looking for?" I said coldly.

"First, you need to apologize to us in the family group chat, on your social media, and to every neighbor in person. Tell everyone you were just jealous of Monica, so you acted crazy at the wedding on purpose.

"Second, you owe us sixty thousand dollars for the emotional distress you caused our family.

"You ruined the most important day of Monica's life. That sixty grand is so you never forget.

"Not gonna agree? Then we'll go make a scene at your dad's office with banners."

One of the relatives behind her, with a sharp face and beady eyes, chimed in, "Let's see if he can keep his job. Your whole family will be humiliated because of you."

My dad came out, so furious that he was shaking all over. "You've gone too far."

"Yeah, we're bullying you, so what?" Linda shot back, looking smug. "Guess that's what happens when you raise a daughter with no morals."

In the chaos, Linda suddenly charged at me, her hand swinging wildly, ready to slap me across the face.

My dad yanked me back and threw himself in front of me.

Her slap smacked my dad square in the face.

It echoed through the hallway, crisp and clear.

My dad staggered back two steps, banging his head against the doorframe with a dull thud.

He clutched his head, slowly crouching down, his face twisted in pain.

"Dad," I cried out, hurrying to steady him.

Linda was startled for a second, but then she stuck out her neck and shouted, "Faking it, huh? I barely touched you, and you're already down? Trying to milk us for money, is that it?"

With that, she marched off with her relatives, still mouthing off and cursing as they left.

I stared at the blood on my father's hairline and the despair in my mother's tears.

That last thread inside me broke for good.

Monica, Linda, your time of prosperity was coming to an end.