Chapter 2

When I woke, the nurse had just finished changing my dressing. She reminded me,

"You've got acute gastric bleeding. You can't let yourself get worked up."

My phone lit up.

A message from Dean.

【Yvonne, I never meant to frighten you.】

【I was right outside the whole time. If anything had happened, I'd have burst in that same second. How could I ever let you get hurt?】

For three years, Dean really had been good to me.

When I wouldn't eat, he'd sit at the table and feed me, one bite at a time.

When I jerked awake in the middle of the night, he'd hold me and soothe me, patient: "Don't be scared. I'm here."

When my changing body made me break down sobbing, he pulled me into his arms.

"Yvonne, you don't have to turn into anyone else."

"Just staying alive is already brave enough."

He made me believe he was someone I could hand my whole life to, made me lay every fragile part of myself bare in front of him.

And now he was using that fragility as a chip in his bet with Martha.

Another message came through.

【Martha didn't do it on purpose either.】

【Just apologize to her and this whole thing goes away.】

I stared at the screen, and my stomach twisted again.

Of course. His apology had never been about comforting me. It was only ever about getting me to comfort Martha.

Out in the hospital corridor, someone pointed at me.

"That's her, isn't it? The woman online who threw herself at some guy for a hookup."

"I heard she even faked having an eating disorder, fishing for sympathy."

I froze for a few seconds, then pulled up my phone.

There was a video going viral online.

In it, a man had me pinned to the floor, my clothes in disarray.

But the first half had been cut. All that was left was me scrambling up, slapping him, and finally running away.

The caption read: 【Girl arranges a hookup, gets there, decides he's too ugly, then loses it and starts hitting him.】

The comments were a flood of filth.

I clicked into Martha's account. She'd just posted a long statement.

【I didn't want to say too much about a friend's private business. But seeing everyone pile on the guy, I still feel I have to say a fair word for him.】

Screenshots of a chat were attached.

【Martha, can you introduce me to a guy?】

【I want to give it a try. I'm tired of playing the innocent one.】

Those messages really did carry my avatar and my name. But I had never said a single word of that.

Martha replied in her own comments:

【She's just emotionally unstable since she got sick. Everyone, please don't attack her too hard.】

【I'll stay by her side through her treatment.】

It looked like she was clearing my name. In reality she'd dumped every bit of dirt onto me.

A few minutes later, a voice message from Dean landed.

"Just kowtow to Martha and apologize, and this is over. She'll take the video down, in a few days no one will remember what got said online, and you won't have to be afraid anymore."

I listened to it and slowly closed my eyes.

He was still doing it. Shove me into the pit first, then stand on the edge and tell me not to be afraid.

That afternoon, Dean and Martha came to the hospital together.

Dean's voice was heavy.

"Yvonne, apologize to Martha and I'll get someone to take the video down."

I looked up at him and almost laughed.

"Why should I?"

He frowned. "You slapped her. That's still not enough?"

"And what about me?"

"You're fine, aren't you?!"

The moment those words dropped, the last flicker of hope in me went out for good.

Martha came over to the bed.

"Yvonne, I know you don't like me. But I really do think of you as his wife."

As she spoke, one of her fingers hooked suddenly.

The IV stand crashed over, the needle dragged across the back of my hand, and blood welled up.

The pain made me suck in a sharp breath.

But Dean's first move was to steady Martha, bending to check her hand.

"Martha, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just a bit startled."

He turned back, his brows knotting hard.

"Yvonne Harding, do you have to be this aggressive all the time?"

I looked at him and suddenly felt filthy. So filthy I didn't even want his concern anymore.

That night, my company suspended me. The reason given was a disorderly personal life.

And my mother, after seeing the video online, had a heart attack and was rushed into the ICU.

When I got to the hospital, Dean was standing at the payment window, having paid a sum for me.

He saw me and said, flat, "Just apologize to Martha and I'll pull the video and clear your name."

"Your mother's medical team, I can help arrange that too."

I stood there, cold all through.

"So you came here to force me into an apology?"

"No one's forcing you."

Martha's face was all innocence. "You did something wrong yourself. You should just bear the consequences."

I stared at her.

"You faked the chat logs, filmed me in secret, put the video online. So who exactly did something wrong?"

Dean's voice dropped low.

"Yvonne Harding, do you really have to be this stubborn? Fine, then. Let your mother keep lying in there."

I tilted my head back, fixed my eyes on the ceiling, and forced the tears down, bit by bit.

"I'll say it one more time. I did nothing wrong, and I won't apologize."