The others seated at the table hurriedly tried to smooth things over.

"You know what Gretchen is like, Melinda. She runs her mouth when she's drunk," someone said.

"It's Shirley's big day today, so you and Gretchen shouldn't argue. It'll give others something to talk about," another added.

I snarled, "Gretchen has to apologize to me right now if she doesn't want me to cause a scene. I want her to tell everyone that she was only making things up earlier, or I'll call the cops and take her to court for libel!"

Gretchen glared at me. "Who do you think you are, Melinda Dashner? No daughter-in-law would dare demand an apology from her mother-in-law!"

I roared, "Are there mothers-in-law who falsely accuse their daughters-in-law of being loose and having STDs? Aren't you afraid of going to hell because of these rumors you've spread?"

Everyone in the banquet hall turned to look at me when they heard my shouts. Gretchen's face turned red with rage. "Keep your voice down! Or do you think you haven't shamed yourself enough?"

Things were starting to get out of hand, and Shirley looked like she was about to cry. "Mom, please stop talking! Do it for my sake!"

Jacob was at another table. He hurried over when he heard the ruckus. "What are you and Mel arguing about, Mom? I heard you guys from way over there."

I grabbed his arm, looking aggrieved as I said, "Your mother is going around spreading lies about me. She says I've cheated on you and contracted an STD."

No man could accept being suspected of having been cuckolded, especially with so many people around. Jacob's expression darkened, and he snapped, "How can you spout such nonsense, Mom? I know what Mel is like—there's no way she could've done something like that!"

The guests started to speak up for me after Jacob defended me.

"Everyone says mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law are natural enemies, but Gretchen is particularly ruthless, don't you think? She cursed her son with being cuckolded just so she could make Melinda look bad."

"Some people are just naturally nasty with their words. It's like they can't live if they don't make up rumors about others."

"I would rip her to shreds if I were her daughter-in-law!"

Gretchen immediately yelled, "She's hoodwinked you, Jake! I wouldn't go around talking about this if I didn't have proof, would I?"

I looked at her. "I'll kill you if you can't produce your so-called proof right here and now!"

I had a clear conscience, so I wasn't afraid of her. Since marrying Jacob, I was sure I'd done everything required of me as a wife and daughter-in-law. I loved Jacob and cared for Gretchen; I hadn't done wrong by them at all. I wanted to see what sort of proof she could produce!

Gretchen whipped out a piece of paper from her bag and handed it to Jacob. "Take a look at this, Jake!"

He took it from her, and his expression turned even uglier. I was about to see what it was when he slapped me and threw the paper in my face. "To think I had so much faith in you, Melinda! How could you have done this to me?"

I had no time to consider my stinging cheek. I grabbed the paper and saw what it was. It was a diagnosis for syphilis—my name and identification were clearly indicated on it.

I was stunned. What was going on?

Gretchen looked smug at the sight of me being slapped. "There's the proof you wanted, Melinda—you have syphilis! What else can you say now?"

I clutched the diagnosis tightly and pointed to the date on it. "You must've forged this. I was at work on the 14th of July. I didn't go to the hospital at all!"

She pointed at the sky. "I swear to God that I'll die of an accident the moment I leave this place if I forged that!"

The guests started believing her when they heard her swear on her life like that.

"Stay away from her, everyone. Syphilis is contagious."

"You really can't judge a book by its cover. I can't believe she has an STD when she looks so upstanding!"

"Anyone would be unlucky to have her as a daughter-in-law."

Everyone was starting to side with Gretchen. If I couldn't prove my innocence, things would only end up the same as they had in my past life. I would have to spend the rest of my life being wronged and the target of mockery.

But where would the diagnosis have come from if it hadn't been forged? I'd never been to the hospital!

Just then, Shirley held Gretchen's arm, looking ashen as she asked, "Didn't I tell you to destroy that, Mom? Why do you still have it?"

I looked at her. "You knew about this, Shirley?"

Her gaze darted around, and she stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Gretchen said, "You threw this away at home; Shirley and I found it together. She was kind enough to try to preserve your dignity and told me to destroy this. She wanted me to act like none of this ever happened."

I suddenly recalled a time when Shirley told me she'd lost her identification and was waiting for her new one to be ready. She'd borrowed mine so she could go out with her friends.

I connected the dots and finally understood everything—the diagnosis was real, but Shirley was the one with syphilis. She was afraid of people finding out she had an STD, so she'd taken my identification when going to the hospital.

Gretchen had discovered the diagnosis at home, so Shirley had taken the opportunity to push the blame on me. At the same time, Shirley had still been afraid of Gretchen spreading the word, ultimately leading to the truth coming out. That was why she kept trying to get Gretchen to shut up.

In my past life, I'd been overwhelmed by mockery and had ultimately lost my life because of it. Yet Shirley had been happily enjoying her honeymoon in Moldove with her newlywed husband.

Since she was the cause of my misfortune, she couldn't blame me for being ruthless.

I went onstage while holding the diagnosis. I snatched the emcee's microphone and said, "This diagnosis from Inkton Hospital is falsified. I demand an explanation from the dean."

I repeated my words thrice before a balding middle-aged man in a suit stepped forward. He was the dean of Inkton Hospital and a relative from Shirley's husband's family. We'd been introduced in the past.

"How can you make up lies, miss? It's been over half a decade since Inkton Hospital's inception, and we've always prided ourselves on our medical prowess and word of mouth. There's no way we would falsify a diagnosis!" he cried.

"How do you explain this, then? I've never been to your hospital, yet this report indicates that I have syphilis. How is that not falsified?" I asked.

Off stage, Shirley was panicking. She said to Jacob, "Hurry up and get Mel off the stage, Jake. It's my wedding today—what will my husband and his family think of me if she keeps causing a scene like this?"

Jacob hurried on stage and grabbed me, wanting to drag me away. "Haven't you disgraced yourself enough, Melinda? Do you want the whole world to know about the dirty things you've done?"

I shook him off and slapped him. He owed it to me. "We've been together for seven years, Jacob. Don't you have even the slightest bit of faith in me?"

He shoved me to the floor and roared, "The report makes it clear that you have syphilis! How do you expect me to believe you?"

I fell to the floor, scraping my palms and knees. The pain couldn't compare to the pain in my heart, though. This was the man I'd given everything up to marry.

Gretchen fanned the flames, saying, "You should divorce this shameless woman right now, Jake. We have proof of her cheating—we can make her leave the marriage without a penny to her name!"

They were staying in the house I owned, and they now wanted me to leave without a penny to my name. They already had everything planned out, huh?

I would make Gretchen pay for this, but first, I had to clear my name with everyone watching.

I got to my feet and approached the dean with the diagnosis report. "Your hospital falsified this diagnosis, leading to my husband wanting to divorce me. You have to clear my name!"

He took the report and looked at it, saying that it was authentic and that I shouldn't be unreasonable. However, I insisted that I'd never been to the hospital.

We were at a stalemate. That was when the dean said the hospital had installed surveillance cameras in each room to ensure patients like me couldn't cause trouble when there were disagreements. He called someone and had them send him that day's surveillance footage.

I suggested playing the footage on the large screen in the hall so that everyone could see what had happened. This made Shirley pale in fright. She hurried over to put a stop to everything. "No, you can't—"

I grabbed her arm. "I know what you mean, Shirley. You want to wait for your husband to join us so he can watch it, too, right?

"You're the only one who believes I'm innocent; I won't let you down. I will prove my innocence with everyone watching—I won't let your in-laws look down on you."

Someone immediately asked Shirley's husband to join us. When everyone was ready, I asked the dean to play the footage. The large screen lit up, and a doctor in a white coat called for the next patient.

The door opened, and a slender woman entered the room.