Forced to Sign for His Lover's Crime

Over the Fourth of July weekend, I took my boyfriend's sister to his flashy new influencer hub.

Fresh off brain surgery, Benedetta Griffin needed a break from her recovery, and I hoped the trip would lift her spirits.

In the hub, a streamer was hawking a face cream like a carnival barker. "Listen, fam! The boss lady is slashing prices. Get this $3,800 cream for just $398 today!"

Benedetta tugged my sleeve. "That cream is bad news."

She'd interned at the FDA last summer and could spot a scam from a mile away. "It's packed with steroids. Long-term use will ruin your skin."

Driven by her sense of justice, she marched up to the streamer. "You can't sell this unlicensed junk. The steroids exceed legal limits. Pull it from the shelves."

Morgan Lamb froze, but then her fake smile twisted into a scowl. "Who the hell are you to trash my product?"

Benedetta didn't back down. "You're scamming people, and you know it."

Morgan planted her hands on her hips. "I'm the boss lady here. How dare you slander my brand? Nobody leaves until you cough up $500,000 for damages."

"Boss lady?" My stomach churned.

My boyfriend's sudden venture into the streaming industry now made sense. He was sinking money into this hub to bankroll his lover.

I fumbled for my phone to call him, but Morgan was faster. "Babe, get to the hub. Two haters crashed the party, trying to tank our business."

Morgan Lamb's eyes glinted with malice when she caught my reaction. "Oh, so you're the one sniffing around my man, huh?"

Before I could get a word in, she flipped on her livestream, shoving the camera in my face.

"Fam, check out this shameless woman!" she screeched, her voice like nails on a chalkboard, blasting through the hub's speakers and her online audience. "She drags some half-dead kid here, accuses me of selling fakes, and claims she knows my man. Guess her little scheme's falling apart now that the real queen is here. What's next, playing the victim?"

Her words hit like a tidal wave of sewage, and the staff's whispers swallowed us whole.

"She's got some nerve, showing up like that. Total con artist!"

"Looks all sweet, but she's a lowlife, dragging a sick kid into her drama."

"Can't pay up? Then don't pick a fight with the boss lady."

Benedetta Griffin shook with rage, nearly collapsing. Her recent surgery had left her weak, and now her face was ghostly pale, her breathing shallow.

"You're all wrong!" she gasped, clutching her chest as dizziness hit her.

I steadied her, shielding her from the venomous glares with my body. I shouted, "She's selling dangerous products. We're just trying to protect consumers!"

The staff laughed, drowning out my voice.

Her eyes glinting with cruelty, Morgan signaled several burly security guys to close in, their broad shoulders blocking any escape.

"This hub is my castle, a gift from my man," she declared, thrusting her phone's camera closer to my face. "I call the shots here, and you're done!"

Benedetta clung to my arm, whispering, "Did we mess up? This can't be Nick's place, right?"

Nick Griffin had always been her hero—a flawless brother who could never be involved in such a sleazy operation or allow his staff to peddle harmful products.