I started going back over the whole date, calmly, detail by detail.
No arguing, no clash, nothing heated said the entire time. There was no reason for Drew to suddenly drop dead. Unless—
Then it came back to me. At the table that day, Drew kept taking deep breaths, his hands trembling now and then, drinking water constantly, his face pale.
At the time I'd chalked it up to nerves. Looking back now, it was deeply strange.
I went to the police station myself, laid out what didn't add up, and asked them to dig deeper. An autopsy, ideally.
The officer told me Drew's body had been cremated that same day, by his mother.
I froze for a second. I said nothing, and requested the security footage from the restaurant where we'd met.
I posted that footage online, meaning to show there had been no conflict at all between Drew and me.
His death had nothing to do with me.
Meanwhile, my most trusted subordinate, Josephine, paid a visit to Drew's company.
Drew's firm made EV parts, so Josephine arranged a meeting with his supervisor under the pretext of a business partnership.
Then I called a friend who worked at the health-insurance office and asked for her help.
I hadn't looked at my phone in half a day. My messages had blown up.
It turned out that after I posted the clarification video, Aileen had teamed up with the platform coordinator who'd matched me and Drew, and the two of them were smearing me even more shamelessly.
The coordinator, Emma Finch, said on camera, with open disdain, that I was spoiled and arrogant, that my requirements for a match were a man at least six-one, movie-star looks, and a top-tier fortune of over a hundred million.
She also spread the lie that I'd already run through thirteen boyfriends, that I'd had my fun and now just wanted to get married.
Regretfully, she added:
"I honestly thought she was only talking big, which is why I introduced Drew to her. Drew met every one of her requirements except the fortune. Who could have guessed it would cost him his life."
Then Aileen produced the chat logs from that night between Drew and me.
Drew: "Vera, I really like you. Don't be so quick to turn me down. How about we get to know each other a little more?"
Me: "We're not a good fit. No point wasting each other's time. I hope you find a girl who appreciates you soon."
Drew: "But I like you. Just tell me what you don't like about me. I'm willing to change for you!"
Me: "Since you put it that way, I'll be honest. You make less than thirty grand a month—what gives you the right to say you like me? Are you even in my league? To me, people like you are just the trash at the bottom of society!"
"Didn't the matchmaker tell you my requirements? I'm looking for a man worth over a hundred million, someone who can support my happiness for the rest of my life. Do you have any idea what you actually are?"
"A toad lusting after swan meat. Go take a good look at yourself in the mirror!"
"Stop bothering me. One more word and I'll report you for sexual harassment!"
I finished reading the screenshots shaking with rage.
I dug out my phone. My conversation with Drew still ended at:
"We're not a good fit. No point wasting each other's time. I hope you find a girl who appreciates you soon."
I never said any of those vicious things that came after!
The topic—"Blind-date woman looks down on ordinary man, drives honest guy to his death"—shot back up the trending list, and the whole internet piled on.
Round after round, strangers flooded my inbox:
"I'm a bottom-feeder making three grand a month. Mind if I finish you off?"
"Six-one, looks like a model, worth over a hundred million? You think you deserve that, you bitch?"
"Did you eat a mouthful of shit before you left the house this morning? Nothing but crap coming out of your mouth."
"So proper at the table, so venomous behind closed doors. Go die, you bitch!"
Relatives and friends, swayed by the rumors, all urged me:
"Just let it go. Pay them off and be done with it."
"The dead deserve respect. Drag this out and you're the only one who loses. Think of it as money to make the trouble disappear."
Right then, a message came in from Josephine:
"Vera, I found something."
