“Uncle Conrad.”
On the other end of the phone, Conrad was clearly still awake, sounding a bit surprised. “Myra? It's so late, what's up?”
“Start the emergency audit process for the ‘Sunshine Teaching’ project.”
Conrad paused for a long time on the other end. “Myra, I know you're upset, but... Samuel is the project’s spokesperson and its central figure. Auditing him now will spark public backlash.”
I laughed. “Then audit him too. Uncle Conrad, listen carefully. Immediately send him a formal legal notice on behalf of the foundation.”
“Inform him that, prior to the audit’s conclusion, in accordance with the supplementary agreement to Article 32 of Chapter 7 of our original contract,”
“Samuel is prohibited from leaving the mountainous area under any circumstances.”
“Otherwise, he will face liquidated damages equivalent to ten times the total project investment.”
Conrad sucked in a sharp breath.
Ten times the damages—that’s a nine-digit astronomical figure. Enough to ruin Samuel for life.
“Myra, you…”
“Uncle, this project was funded with my own money. His public image was built with my money. Now, I'm taking it back.”
Samuel's calls never came through to my phone again.
My assistant, Jane, told me he was nearly driving her phone crazy with calls.
From initial questioning, to mid-point threats, to final panic.
Jane said that when Samuel found out the foundation’s legal notice had been delivered to the village committee by a special messenger, he roared on the phone.
He was trapped in the mountains he once boasted about.
I laughed; this was just the beginning.
Lucy’s official account was updated.
The new title was: [When Kindness Meets Misunderstanding, All We Can Do Is Persevere].
In the article, she portrayed herself as an innocent, selfless person who was ruthlessly oppressed by a jealous woman from a wealthy family.
[Mr. Brown said, the darker it is, the more we must hold on to the light.]
[I don't know why Mrs. Brown hates me so much. Maybe it's because I shouldn't have been by Mr. Brown's side, taking away the care and attention that should have been hers.]
[But the children in the mountains are innocent. I am willing to bear all the misunderstandings, as long as they are not harmed.]
It’s written so well.
I was almost starting to feel sorry for her.
As expected, the comments section was filled with criticism directed at me.
[Just because you have a few stinking dollars, you think you can do whatever you want. Mr. Brown, run away!]
[This crazy woman can’t find her son, so she wants to destroy everyone else?]
[Poor little angel Lucy, give her a hug.]
Samuel’s colleague, the project manager I personally interviewed and hired, reposted the article on social media with the caption: [Five years of hard work destroyed in an instant, the hero’s downfall, the rise of the villain.]
The villagers who had benefited from my foundation also began to vent their grievances on various short video platforms.
They said I, the “heartless rich woman,” had cut off their livelihood and their children's hopes.
The public opinion fermented quickly.
My name and terms like “unscrupulous rich person” and “driving a hero to death” trended on social media.
Looking at the vile insults on the screen, I told Jane, “Compile a list of all project-related personnel who publicly supported Samuel in attacking me.”
Jane's pen flew across the tablet.
“Add them all to the ‘never collaborate’ blacklist for our foundation and all my personal businesses.”
“Additionally, notify finance to suspend all aid projects for the village, effective immediately.”
