Chapter 4
I didn't look back.
I stepped through the front door and into the elevator.
I returned to that apartment, thick with the smell of medicine and sweat.
I threw open every window.
I let the breeze sweep through the place.
I wanted to sweep out three years' worth of bad luck.
I pulled out my phone.
The neighborhood group chat was blowing up.
Someone had already posted the video of me at the square.
The footage was crystal clear.
It showed everything, from me pushing the wheelchair to Margaret passing out to the ambulance arriving.
Underneath, the comments were blowing up.
[Everyone, this is a disgrace to our neighborhood.]
[Which unit is David in? He needs to be kicked out.]
[I feel so bad for his wife.]
The group admin, who was also the property manager, quickly posted an announcement: [Mr. Summers' recent scandal has caused serious harm to our neighborhood's reputation.
[The property management reserves the right to take legal action if necessary.]
I looked at my phone, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
This was just the appetizer.
I tapped on the video.
It had already been shared to several local community groups.
The view count was skyrocketing.
The comment section was on fire.
[This is what passes for a filial son these days: mom's paralyzed, and he's off on a romantic getaway with his side chick.]
[Someone should dox this guy. Scumbags like him don't deserve to breathe.]
[Hey, isn't there company info in the pic? Lighthouse Technologies, David Summers.]
My heart skipped a beat when I saw that comment.
The way these people online could mobilize was even scarier than I'd imagined.
I refreshed the page.
Under the video, a new hashtag was blowing up: [Tech Exec Abuses Paralyzed Mother].
I smiled.
David, your good days were over.
*****
The internet went viral way faster than I ever imagined.
Overnight, the video with that hashtag blew up on the local trending charts.
And finally, it barely made it onto the national trending charts.
Its name showed up right at the bottom of the national list.
David's company, Lighthouse Technologies, was trending for all the wrong reasons.
Their official social media account was getting absolutely swamped with comments.
[What kind of trash does your company hire?]
[Is your company culture all about ditching your wife and mom?]
[Boycott Lighthouse Technologies. Let this heartless company go bankrupt.]
This was a PR nightmare.
Any company with half a brain would know exactly what to do.
At nine in the morning, Lighthouse Technologies posted an official statement on their social media account. The statement was formal and sounded sincere.
It read: [Lighthouse Technologies takes the video circulating online regarding our former employee, Mr. David Summers, very seriously.
[Upon investigation, Mr. Summers' actions were found to seriously violate social ethics and our company values, resulting in an extremely negative social impact.
[After an emergency meeting, Lighthouse Technologies has decided to terminate Mr. Summers' employment contract effective immediately.
[We deeply sympathize with Ms. Ross and will provide her with all necessary legal support.
[We appreciate the vigilance and oversight from everyone online.]
At the bottom of the statement was the company's official name.
It was clean, decisive, and to the point.
My heart was calm as I read the statement.
This was exactly what I expected.
Business was always about chasing profit.
When an employee's personal conduct started to hurt the company's reputation and bottom line, they would be thrown under the bus without a second thought.
David had lost the job he was so proud of.
That "project manager" title he used to flaunt in front of me? Gone.
My phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
I answered.
"Is this Ms. Ross? Hello, this is Mike Fox from Lighthouse Technologies' HR department." He sounded very courteous.
"Hello, Mr. Fox," I said.
"We sincerely apologize for what happened with David. We've already taken action against him."
"Additionally, the company has decided to pay you its quarterly bonus and year-end dividend, totaling about fifty thousand dollars, to help you and your family out."
I was genuinely taken aback.
I hadn't expected them to go this far.
"Thank you," I said.
"You're welcome. It's the least we can do. And if you ever need it, our legal team can help you with your divorce for free."
"Alright, I'll let you know if I need anything."
After hanging up, I let out a long sigh of relief.
David's first way out? I'd just shut it down for good.
Next up, Jessica.
I opened Twitter and searched for Jessica's name.
The netizens had exposed every last secret about her.
Her Twitter handle, her workplace, even her husband's account were all posted for everyone to see.
Her Twitter was a warzone, swamped with insults and trolls.
[You knew you were the mistress and still went for it? Breaking up someone else's family was shameless.]
[I heard you've got a husband. Does he know you're out here messing around like this?]
[You look all innocent, but your heart's rotten to the core.]
I was scrolling through the comments when my phone buzzed. My phone vibrated.
There was a WhatsApp friend request. The profile picture was blank, and the username was a single character: Carter.
The message popped up: [I'm Jessica Carter's husband.]