In an instant, every gaze in the hall felt like a physical weight, pinning me to the spot.

"Oh my God… is she really a homewrecker?"

"So that's what the CEO of VanceTech is really like?"

"She drove a man's wife to her death! That's so vicious!"

The murmurs swelled into a roar of condemnation. The university’s security guards finally reacted, trying to rush the stage to intervene.

"Who let him up here during such an important dedication ceremony? Get him down from there, now!"

But Ethan’s rage exploded. He pulled a folding knife from his pocket, its blade glinting coldly under the lights. He lunged forward, yanked me in front of him, and pressed the icy blade to my throat.

"Don't come any closer!"

The guards froze. The trustees' faces went pale with fear.

I took a deep breath, fighting to maintain a sliver of clarity amidst the chaos. I slowly raised my hands.

"I never knew your mother existed," I said carefully. "If you believe I ruined your family, we can call your father here right now. Let him tell everyone the truth."

I needed answers, too. I needed to know what was really going on.

But before I could finish, Ethan cut me off furiously.

"You've had my dad under your thumb for years! I'm not letting you hurt him again!" he roared.

"I want you to confess everything, right now, in front of all the media," he said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and shoving it in my face. "Read every single word of this 'public apology'! And then agree to transfer all your shares in VanceTech!"

I glanced down at it. It was a viciously worded, insulting confession that painted me as a shameless slut who had used power and her body to secure a marriage.

My face hardened, a cold fury rising in my chest. I stared at him and said, word by word.

"Never."

Ethan's expression turned savage. He had run out of patience. Then he played his trump card—he took out his phone and played a video.

The moment the video appeared, my breath hitched, my heart constricting in my chest as if squeezed by an invisible vise.

It was my daughter, Sophie. She was tied to a chair in a basement, her mouth sealed with duct tape, her small body trembling with fear.

"No!" I gasped.

"If you won't confess, I'll have her confess for you," Ethan sneered, his face filled with vengeful glee. "The little bastard born from a mistress… her blood is just as filthy."

He issued a command into his phone: "Let her get a good look."

In the video, a masked man pulled out a knife, the sharp blade hovering dangerously close to Sophie’s delicate cheek.

"Stop! No! Please, don't hurt her!" Panic consumed me, my heart hammering like it would explode. I couldn't lose her, my eight-year-old daughter.

In desperation, I choked out the words. "I'll do it… I'll confess to anything…" I cried, my voice shattering.

Ethan’s twisted smile deepened. He kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to the ground.

"Then speak," he commanded ruthlessly.

"However," he added mockingly, "to show everyone your 'sincerity,' perhaps this would be better—slap yourself for every sentence you read."

The next moment, as Ethan demanded, I raised a trembling hand and slapped myself hard across the face.

The sharp sound echoed through the microphone, filling the entire hall.

"Harder," Ethan's voice was a demonic whisper. "If you don't feel it, I'll make sure your daughter does."

I gritted my teeth and struck again, harder this time.

"I am a shameless woman…" I forced out the humiliating words. "I used despicable means to destroy an innocent family. I drove a kind wife to her death. I deserve to die…"

The only sounds in the silent hall were the sharp crack of each slap and my broken voice, echoing through the speakers.

The humiliating confession dragged on for what felt like a century, until I finally choked out the last sentence.

"…I voluntarily relinquish all my shares in VanceTech as compensation to the Basset family."

When I finished the last word, my face was numb and stinging.

But Ethan’s smile only grew more cruel. "It seems you really do care about your daughter."

He paused, then laughed coldly. "But, to make sure she doesn't turn into a bitch like you, I think I should help purify her first."

"You promised!" I screamed, panic drowning me again.

Ethan, however, looked even more smug. He spat a single word into his phone: "Do it."

On the screen, I watched in horror as the masked man's knife sliced a long gash into my daughter Sophie's tender arm.

"No!"

Blood instantly gushed out, staining her sleeve red. Sophie's cries were muffled by the tape, reduced to pained whimpers.

The moment I saw my daughter bleed, the last thread of sanity in my mind snapped.

My maternal instincts erupted. Like a crazed lioness, I lunged at Ethan with no regard for myself.

But he was faster, kicking me hard in the ribs.

"You bitch! You still dare to fight back!" he roared, as I stumbled and fell, the sharp pain nearly making me pass out.

Not satisfied, he kicked my abdomen again and again until I could no longer move.

Just then, the piercing wail of sirens cut through the air.

Someone shouted, "It's SWAT! The special police are here!"

Suddenly, a team of heavily armed tactical officers stormed the stage. Everything became a blur, but through the chaos, I saw Ethan being pinned to the ground and handcuffed.

A pair of hands gently helped me up, and I heard a concerned voice in my ear: "Eleanor, are you all right?"

It was my husband, Julian.

I ignored him, staggering forward to grab a police officer’s uniform, my voice raw as I screamed that my daughter had been kidnapped and begged them to save her.

I only breathed a sigh of relief when the officer assured me they would act immediately.

I turned my head and looked at Julian’s hypocritical face.

Without a moment's hesitation, I summoned all my strength and gave him a resounding slap.