Leonard had publicly accused me by name of being a homewrecker. He claimed I'd used cooking dinner as a cover story when I was really hunting for a sugar mama, trying to seduce someone else's girlfriend.
He sobbed through the whole video, tears streaming down his face:
"We just had a little fight, my girlfriend and I. I never imagined I'd run into someone like him. If my girlfriend didn't love only me, he might've actually stolen her away!"
He let my phone number, personal details, and home address slip into the post, as if by accident.
Within minutes, my phone was overwhelmed. An endless flood of slurs, threats, and abuse poured in from every direction.
A deafening crash came from outside my door. Someone had hurled red paint across it. On the wall beside it, someone had scrawled the words "HOMEWRECKER" and "SHAMELESS."
I stood there shaking with rage, wanting to confront Rowena.
But the moment I stepped outside, a rock struck me hard.
Searing pain exploded at my temple. In the last second before everything went dark, I heard a voice dripping with contempt:
"Homewreckers who have the nerve to show their faces in public deserve to die!"
I opened my eyes in a hospital bed.
The nurse told me it was only early-stage stomach cancer. There was still hope for a cure. She urged me not to give up on treatment.
I stared blankly ahead, my hand drifting to my stomach. Only then did the recent warning signs click into place.
Along with the pain came a crushing wave of irony.
The next day, I dragged my weakened body back to my apartment, only to find my landlord standing in the doorway, red-faced and furious.
"Get the hell out! I'm not renting my place to some man-stealing piece of trash!"
He'd rather forfeit my deposit than let me stay another night.
As I wheeled my suitcase through the door, he spat on the ground behind me.
"Disgusting. You look like a decent person, but you're nothing but a shameless homewrecker!"
Rowena called. Her voice was low, measured.
"Ulysses, I never wanted us to be apart. But you hurt Leonard. There has to be some kind of consequence."
"He's already calmed down. You can come back to Ashworth Group anytime. Ulysses, I truly want to protect you."
I hung up, hard. The nausea I'd been holding back surged through my chest, and I doubled over, dry heaving on the sidewalk.
Rowena probably assumed I had nowhere left to turn. That she was my only lifeline.
What she didn't know was that I'd already planned to leave.
I flagged down a cab heading for the airport. The draft in my phone was already finished, every word polished and ready.
Leonard wasn't the only one who could post online.
Laid out on a proper timeline, it was Leonard who was the real interloper. The one everyone should have been cursing.
I hit send. Then I turned around and took one last look at the city I'd poured seven years of my life into.
Then I boarded the flight to Southport.
Meanwhile, an assistant burst into the office in a panic.
"Ms. Ashworth, Mr. Henson just posted your entire relationship timeline online!"
"He's saying Leonard was the other man!"
