The pain was unbearable.
It felt like ten thousand blades driving into my chest, shredding me to pulp, grinding me to nothing.
I shot to my feet, my gaze cutting straight to him, cold and unflinching.
"Dad, did you even check whether that's actually me in those photos? Did you ask me what happened? Have you ever—even once—believed me?"
"You don't ask questions. You don't look into anything. Just like every single time, you decide I'm the one in the wrong, and then you humiliate me in front of Philippa, over and over again, just so she can get her fix of revenge."
My father froze for a moment, then looked at me with disappointment.
"How can you say that? Your cousin was looking out for you. Think of it as nipping things in the bud—giving you a wake-up call before you go completely off the rails."
The relatives didn't bother hiding their contempt. Sneers and insults came one after another.
"And here I was holding her up as a role model, bragging about her to everyone I know. Talk about egg on my face."
"I was going to set her up with my sister-in-law's son—he's a government employee! Thank God I didn't. A girl like that doesn't deserve him."
"Shameless. Back in the old days, they would've drowned her. And she thinks one slap is unfair? If she were mine, I'd lock her in the house and beat her eight times a day until she straightened out."
"All that education, wasted. A master's degree, and for what? She's not half as well-behaved as Philippa."
Philippa's eyes gleamed with triumph, though she put on a show of humility.
"Oh, I wouldn't dare compare myself to Monica. She's prettier, more educated—she can thrive even in those kinds of places. And her career's been smooth sailing from the start. Not like me. After all these years, I'm still just a nobody at my job."
The implication was clear: my career hadn't been earned cleanly either.
My mother beat her fists against her chest, tears streaming down her face.
"What did I do to deserve this? We watched her like hawks, and it still wasn't enough! Your father and I scraped by, went without, but we never let you go hungry. Were you that desperate for money? I put you through school so you could go sell yourself?"
Her words drove into my chest like a steel blade, and the pain radiated outward until every inch of me ached.
My gaze dropped, and it landed right on that photo. The blurry face in the image grew more and more familiar the longer I stared.
I turned to Philippa with a cold smile.
"You know that spreading deepfake videos to frame someone is a crime, right? You think this is going to be like before—you cry a little, mumble some half-hearted apology, and it all goes away?"
"Philippa, you brought this on yourself. I'm done going easy on you."
I picked up my phone and started dialing 911.
Philippa burst into tears on cue.
"Monica, I know you hate me. I know you've always had it out for me. But no matter how immature I can be, I would never joke about something like this."
"Go ahead, call the police. I said what I said, and I'll stand by it. But Dorothy's son is about to take his civil service exam, and Janet's daughter is getting engaged any day now. If this scandal gets out, what happens to their reputations?"
Janet Hargrove's expression shifted instantly, her eyes turning into daggers aimed straight at me.
Dorothy looked at me, lips parting as if to speak, then pressing shut again. The worry for her son was written all over her face.
I smiled. My fingers didn't stop dialing.
"I didn't do anything wrong. If anyone should be embarrassed, it's you—the one spreading lies—"
Crack.
The phone was slapped out of my hand. It hit the floor hard, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks.
My mother stood over me, teeth clenched, finger jabbing at my face.
"You are NOT calling the police! You ungrateful animal! Dorothy and Gerald have been nothing but good to you. You want to drag your own name through the mud, fine—but you will NOT take this entire family down with you!"
"Get out. From this day forward, I don't have a daughter."
My chest seized. A bleak, hollow ache flooded through me.
I looked at her and smiled—a thin, broken smile.
