Oscar's face was livid. "Meryl slit her wrists because of you. They barely saved her."
"I've already got the press lined up. You're going to that hospital, you're getting on your knees, and you're going to tell everyone you photoshopped those pictures because you were jealous. You're going to clear her name yourself."
I looked at him like I was looking at a stranger.
"I didn't do it. I'm not going."
Meryl appeared out of nowhere, dressed in a hospital gown that made her look frail and pitiful, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.
"Oscar, please, don't make things hard for Barbara because of me. I'm the shameless one who fell for you. I don't blame her for hating me. If anyone's at fault, it's me for not being able to control my feelings."
Oscar looked at her—shaking, barely able to stand—and pulled her straight into his arms, something cracking behind his eyes.
"You're not the one who did anything wrong. Nobody gets to blame you for this!"
He lifted his gaze to me, every trace of warmth replaced by ice.
"Barb, I'm giving you one last chance. Post a statement right now—clear Meryl's name and apologize to her publicly. Every platform."
Meryl suddenly broke free from his arms, grabbed my hand, and started slapping it against her own face.
"Barbara, I just got my direct-admission spot at Kingsley University. I don't want my future ruined. Hit me, please. If you're angry, just hit me. Kill me if you want. I'm just begging you to let me walk away with my name clean."
She yanked me so hard I stumbled straight into the sharp corner of the coffee table, and the pain blacked out my vision.
But she was the one who let out a piercing scream and collapsed backward. "Ah! Barbara, don't kick me—"
Oscar caught her in an instant, eyes blazing. "Barbara, have you lost your mind? You hit someone right in front of me. Is there anything you won't do?"
He took a deep breath, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen a few times.
The familiar sounds spilled into the room—and every muscle in my body locked. The floor dropped out from under me.
"You promised me. You said if I signed the form giving up my direct-admission spot, you'd delete the video. You lied to me?"
The words ripped out of me raw, my voice cracking, something in my chest crushed so flat I couldn't breathe.
Oscar didn't flinch. His gaze was cold to the point of cruelty. "I gave you a chance. Eye for an eye. Seems fair."
His finger hovered over the send button, poised to press down.
"Don't!" I squeezed my eyes shut, tears of humiliation hitting the floor. "I'll apologize. I'll clear her name."
I opened my account and typed out a confession to crimes I never committed—admitted I'd photoshopped the images out of jealousy toward Meryl, smeared her reputation, and publicly apologized to her.
Less than two minutes. That was all it took for the tide to reverse.
Every drop of filth swung around and came crashing down on me instead.
Oscar smiled, the lazy kind. "I'll let this one slide. Think of it as a lesson learned. You're going to be my wife someday—I'd rather she not be a vicious woman."
He looked down at me—still on the floor, eyes unfocused, not moving—and something in his chest lurched, sudden and wrong, like something slipping out of reach.
A flicker of guilt crept into his voice. "I'll delete the video right now."
He was about to do it when Meryl's face went white and she slumped into his arms. "Oscar, I'm dizzy… I feel terrible…"
He had no choice but to carry her out. At the door, he tossed back a single line: "Think about what you've done. I'm taking Meryl to the hospital. I'll come check on you later."
The door opened and closed, and then there was nothing but silence.
Ten minutes later, my phone screen lit up.
On the other side of town, Oscar had gotten Meryl to the hospital, waited through every exam until the doctors confirmed she was fine, and only then pulled out his phone to call me.
But the moment the screen lit up, he went rigid.
Everywhere—trending, notifications, every timeline he touched—the uncensored, high-definition video from his phone. The video of me.
Comments beneath the post.
"That two-faced slut tried to run, hopped in a car right outside, but people chased her down and she crashed straight into the river. Current's brutal—she's dead for sure. Good riddance."
