Chapter 3

The next day, I got a call from Director Lewis. "Ms. Summers, it's done. The Hope Foundation took the evidence very seriously. They've already rejected Emily Lane's application and blacklisted her for dishonesty."

"Good." I was in a good mood. With her financial aid cut off, I wanted to see how long she could keep playing pure and pitiful in front of Mr. Warren.

That afternoon, while I was in my office going through files, David called. He sounded anxious. "Are you still at the office? Don't leave yet. I'm coming to get you right now."

"What happened?"

"Check online and you'll see."

I opened my computer, and a trending topic popped up: [Socialite Publicly Humiliates Poor Student]. When I clicked in, it was a long post written from Emily's point of view, tearfully accusing a "vicious" rich wife who had first given her hope, then publicly humiliated her at a charity gala.

According to the post, that woman had pressured her again at the mall and even pulled strings to cancel her financial aid. With emotional writing and staged photos of Emily secretly wiping away tears, it wasn't hard for people to guess that the woman was me.

The comments section had already blown up. "Rich people really are heartless. They trample all over other people's dignity!" "That girl is way too pitiful. I support her speaking out!" "Someone expose her! A woman like that has no business being a mother!" "Boycott their company!"

The angry posts came crashing in from every direction, and it was far too much like what happened in my last life. Only this time, it had come a full ten years early. My hands and feet turned cold. The one I worried about most was Lily. In my last life, it was this exact online abuse that drove my daughter to her death.

I immediately called Lily's homeroom teacher and told her not to let Lily see anything online, no matter what. I had barely hung up when David pushed open the office door, strode over, and grabbed my hand. "Don't be scared. I've already had the PR team handle it. Cheap tricks like this won't bring us down."

I looked at him and felt myself calm down a little. It was good to have him with me. "It's not some petty trick," I said. "This is Emily's media war. She wants to ruin me." David's eyes turned cold.

"She won't get what she wants. I've already had someone trace the IP address behind that post." Sure enough, less than an hour later, the result came back. The IP traced straight to Mr. Warren's company.

David let out a cold laugh. "Good. Looks like Mr. Warren is hell-bent on going against us." As I watched the vicious comments keep refreshing on my screen, a plan slowly took shape in my mind.

"Honey, don't touch Mr. Warren yet."

"Why not?"

"I want Emily Lane to climb a little higher first." David looked at me, confused, and I explained my plan to him.

After hearing it, he stayed silent for a long time. In the end, he nodded. "All right. We'll do it your way. But you're not facing this alone again. If anything happens, you tell me right away."

"Okay."

Over the next few days, the online outrage only got worse. Even our company's stock price took a hit and started slipping, and some of our partners called too, trying to feel out what was going on. David took all the pressure without responding publicly. He let the whole thing keep simmering.

Emily got exactly what she wanted. She became the internet's favorite victim, gained a huge wave of followers, and was even approached by influencer agencies that wanted to market her as an inspirational poor student. Practically overnight, she became a minor internet celebrity and started posting about her "tragic" life.

She claimed she lived on one bun a day, stayed in an unheated basement, and even washed dishes at a restaurant every night just to scrape together tuition. Her followers were heartbroken and started sending money. In just a few days, she'd gotten more than thirty thousand dollars in tips and donations.

Watching that fake face of hers on camera made me sick. She was actually living in a luxury apartment Mr. Warren rented for her, eating fresh ingredients flown in, and her so-called dishwashing job was nothing but staged photos at his restaurant. My private investigator had all of it on record. The timing was almost right.

That day, Emily went live again. Crying on camera, she said she'd received a school warning that she might be expelled because she couldn't pay tuition. "It's all my fault. I never should've offended that lady. Now she's trying to ruin me, and I really don't know what to do anymore." Her fans exploded with anger, and the donation total shot up fast as the corner of Emily's mouth curled into a smug smile at the numbers.

Right then, someone knocked on her door. Emily froze for a second. "Who is it?"

A voice came from outside. "Utilities check."

Emily didn't suspect a thing and went over to open the door. The moment it opened, a group of uniformed police officers rushed in. The lead officer showed his badge. "Emily Lane? We've received a report that you're suspected of online fraud. Come with us."

All the color drained from Emily's face. The hundreds of thousands of viewers in her livestream saw the whole thing clearly. The comment feed froze for three full seconds, then completely blew up.