Chapter 4

I didn't expect them to move this fast.

Several gossip accounts, TikTok creators, and paparazzi were swarming outside my house, live-streaming with their lenses pointed right at my front door.

People were throwing trash bags. Someone splashed red paint. The words "ADRIAN CHEATED" were sprayed on my wall again.

I stood a short distance away, watching the absurd witch hunt.

The one who was betrayed was being crucified as the homewrecker.

While the real betrayer was sleeping soundly in the arms of my wife—who I was still legally married to.

I texted Victoria.

"Who did this to my house?"

She didn't reply.

Fifteen minutes later, an instant bank transfer hit my account.

The note attached was a single word:

Compensation.

I stared at the money and laughed.

Hush money. Again.

She always thought money could erase anything.

I remembered the first time she sent me "compensation."

I had come home early from a business trip. I pushed open the bedroom door.

Eli's shirt was tossed at the foot of the bed.

Victoria walked out of the bathroom, her hair still wet.

I asked her what the hell was going on.

She looked at me, her expression completely unchanged.

"It is exactly what it looks like."

I interrogated her. I screamed, cried, smashed things, begging to know why.

She stayed silent the entire time.

Finally, she wired me a sum of money.

"We can get a divorce."

I asked her what gave her the right to kick me out of my own home.

She was quiet for a long time before she finally looked up at me.

"Adrian, you have that history. I was the only one who didn't care back then. I was the only one willing to marry you."

The room went terrifyingly quiet.

What happened in college wasn't my fault.

The design portfolio I submitted had been stolen, and I was the one accused of plagiarism. I filed complaints with the Office of Academic Integrity, hired copyright lawyers, and even went to the police. But the chain of original files was broken, and I lacked witnesses.

For three years, the label of "plagiarist" crushed me.

Victoria had stayed by my side back then. She told me she believed me.

But later, she weaponized that exact scar to prove I "didn't deserve her."

She apologized afterward, claiming she only said it in the heat of the moment.

But I knew.

It wasn't just anger.

That was how she truly saw me.

I snapped back to the present, staring at the Compensation transfer on my screen.

I didn't accept the money, but I took a screenshot and saved it.

Every payoff was a receipt.

Then, I texted the screenshot to Eli.

By the next day, rumors of "Adrian Cole's plagiarism" flooded the internet.

My photos, my name, my deepest college trauma—all of it was chopped into screenshots, spliced into short videos, and dumped onto gossip pages.

I never imagined Victoria would tell Eli about that.

What did she think my deepest wound was?

A talking point?

A bargaining chip to entertain her new lover?

The comments rolled endlessly across my screen.

Why did the people who did wrong get to parade around in triumph?

Why was the one who got betrayed being hunted by everyone?

Right then, Maya sent a text.

"I have the receipts."

"Good."

Immediately after, a push notification popped up.

In three days, Victoria and Eli were hosting a high-profile engagement party at the InterContinental New York Barclay in Midtown Manhattan.

I made a call.

"Check my RSVP. As Victoria's legal spouse—since the divorce isn't finalized—I'm still technically on the co-host list."

Three days later, dressed in a black suit, I walked through the front doors of the engagement party after the staff verified my ID at the entrance.

Eli was linking arms with Victoria. He was wearing a white tuxedo, smiling like he deserved everyone's blessing.

I pulled out my phone and opened Instagram Live.

"Hi everyone. I'm Adrian Cole."

I walked toward the stage.

My dress shoes clicked against the marble floor.

Victoria finally spotted me. Her pupils shrank.

I looked straight into the camera.

"Welcome to the engagement party of my wife—who I'm still legally married to—and my brother."

Chapter 4

I didn't expect them to move this fast.

Several gossip accounts, TikTok creators, and paparazzi were swarming outside my house, live-streaming with their lenses pointed right at my front door.

People were throwing trash bags. Someone splashed red paint. The words "ADRIAN CHEATED" were sprayed on my wall again.

I stood a short distance away, watching the absurd witch hunt.

The one who was betrayed was being crucified as the homewrecker.

While the real betrayer was sleeping soundly in the arms of my wife—who I was still legally married to.

I texted Victoria.

"Who did this to my house?"

She didn't reply.

Fifteen minutes later, an instant bank transfer hit my account.

The note attached was a single word:

Compensation.

I stared at the money and laughed.

Hush money. Again.

She always thought money could erase anything.

I remembered the first time she sent me "compensation."

I had come home early from a business trip. I pushed open the bedroom door.

Eli's shirt was tossed at the foot of the bed.

Victoria walked out of the bathroom, her hair still wet.

I asked her what the hell was going on.

She looked at me, her expression completely unchanged.

"It is exactly what it looks like."

I interrogated her. I screamed, cried, smashed things, begging to know why.

She stayed silent the entire time.

Finally, she wired me a sum of money.

"We can get a divorce."

I asked her what gave her the right to kick me out of my own home.

She was quiet for a long time before she finally looked up at me.

"Adrian, you have that history. I was the only one who didn't care back then. I was the only one willing to marry you."

The room went terrifyingly quiet.

What happened in college wasn't my fault.

For three years, the label of "plagiarist" crushed me.

Victoria had stayed by my side back then. She told me she believed me.

But later, she weaponized that exact scar to prove I "didn't deserve her."

She apologized afterward, claiming she only said it in the heat of the moment.

But I knew.

It wasn't just anger.

That was how she truly saw me.

I snapped back to the present, staring at the Compensation transfer on my screen.

I didn't accept the money, but I took a screenshot and saved it.

Every payoff was a receipt.

Then, I texted the screenshot to Eli.

By the next day, rumors of "Adrian Cole's plagiarism" flooded the internet.

My photos, my name, my deepest college trauma—all of it was chopped into screenshots, spliced into short videos, and dumped onto gossip pages.

I never imagined Victoria would tell Eli about that.

What did she think my deepest wound was?

A talking point?

A bargaining chip to entertain her new lover?

The comments rolled endlessly across my screen.

Why did the people who did wrong get to parade around in triumph?

Why was the one who got betrayed being hunted by everyone?

Right then, Maya sent a text.

"I have the receipts."

"Good."

Immediately after, a push notification popped up.

In three days, Victoria and Eli were hosting a high-profile engagement party at the InterContinental New York Barclay in Midtown Manhattan.

I made a call.

"Check my RSVP. As Victoria's legal spouse—since the divorce isn't finalized—I'm still technically on the co-host list."

Three days later, dressed in a black suit, I walked through the front doors of the engagement party after the staff verified my ID at the entrance.

Eli was linking arms with Victoria. He was wearing a white tuxedo, smiling like he deserved everyone's blessing.

I pulled out my phone and opened Instagram Live.

"Hi everyone. I'm Adrian Cole."

I walked toward the stage.

My dress shoes clicked against the marble floor.

Victoria finally spotted me. Her pupils shrank.

I looked straight into the camera.

"Welcome to the engagement party of my wife—who I'm still legally married to—and my brother."