Scanning the room, a strange gleam flashed in Diane’s eyes.

"Alright, since everything here was bought with my family’s money, I won’t be polite anymore."

She barged into my walk-in closet, slung several designer bags over her shoulder, and muttered, "Let me collect some interest first."

She crammed one bag full of jewelry, then began piling on all the pieces she could find, wearing rings, necklaces, and bracelets like trophies.

Neighbors followed her inside, ransacking the place and taking whatever they pleased.

I was shoved and lost my footing, collapsing to the ground.

All I could do was watch helplessly as Diane slashed my sofa open with a knife and smeared ink all over my walls.

"You’re trespassing. I’m calling the police!" I shouted.

"Go ahead. If this house was bought with my money, then it’s mine. I have every right to be here. Let’s see who the police arrest first."

Wrapped in coats and jewelry like a bloated caricature, Diane shuffled out, dropping items as she went. She spat in my direction.

"Now you know not to steal from me. This is your lesson. You better return the money—fast."

She left, arrogant and unrepentant, surrounded by neighbors who seemed more like accomplices than witnesses.

Some were still chatting as they walked off, smug satisfaction on their faces.

"We’re just doing what’s right."

"Helping others really lifts your spirits."

"She deserves to lose everything she stole."

...

I sat on the floor, trembling in anger as I looked at the wreckage.

But more than the damage, what crushed me was betrayal.

I’d always tried to be kind, helping my neighbors whenever I could.

Just last month, Aunt Foster came to me in tears, and I lent her 50,000 dollars without hesitation.

Now, she was among the first to speak against me, twisting the story to support their false accusations.

I forced myself up, grabbed my phone, and started recording everything—every mess, every scratch.

Then I rushed to my room and pulled the memory card from the surveillance camera.

Preserving this evidence was the only way to fight back.

With the footage secured, I couldn’t wait. I went straight to the office to confront Calvin.

"Hey, look who’s here—the thief herself. Feel guilty and ready to pay me back?"

Calvin looked at me with smug confidence, like a victor taunting the defeated.

I ignored his mocking tone and held my phone up to his face.

"Did you tell your wife to come to my house and create that scene?"

He blinked innocently.

"What are you talking about? Maybe she was just worried about her mom and lost her temper. If you just return the money, she’ll calm down."

His colleagues chimed in, too.

"Vanessa, how can you be so cold? His mom’s in the hospital, his wife just scolded you a bit, and now you’re coming here to make a scene?"

I turned off the video playback. It was clear I wouldn’t get any truth from them, so I went straight to the facts.

"Fine. Do you want evidence? I’ll give it to you now!"

"This is the bank transfer record from my account to Calvin."

I held out my phone so everyone could see the screen clearly.

"Move aside! Make room!"

Lena suddenly charged over with a stack of documents and deliberately slammed them into my hand.

The phone flew from my grasp, tumbling down the stairwell—crashing into pieces at the bottom.

Lena smirked, the corners of her mouth curled into a proud grin.

"I barely touched you. How did your phone fall like that? Now that you have no evidence, you’re trying to blame me?"

My fists clenched. I stared at her coldly.

"The guilty always reveal themselves. It doesn’t matter—I still have a computer. The data must be synced there."

Without another word, I turned back and headed straight for my desk to boot it up.

I usually use the company computer for work, and several important accounts are logged into it.

Just as I turned it on, Calvin grabbed my arm and shouted,

"Stop pretending! Is it so hard to just pay me back? Why are you playing all these tricks?"

"Why should I return money I never took? Why are you stopping me—are you hiding something?"

Calvin’s face darkened instantly, his eyes darting around as he tried to figure out a response.

Then his phone rang.

"Hello? Okay, I’ll be right there!"

It was the hospital calling—perfect timing.

He seized my wrist again and dragged me along.

When we arrived, the hospital informed him that his mother’s medical fees were once again overdue.

The nurse spoke gently,

"If I were you, I wouldn’t waste money like this. Your mother’s condition..."

But Calvin cut her off, scowling, and pulled me away from the cashier’s desk.

"I’m begging you, please. My mother’s illness can’t wait. Just return the money, I’m desperate."

Strangely, the hospital lobby was crowded that day. As he dragged me through the crowd, he suddenly raised his voice, drawing attention from everyone around.

"I’ll give you all the interest I made. Just return the principal. I really have no other choice—just consider it a loan, please!"

Calvin looked pitiful, as if I’d committed a terrible crime.

A few bystanders with cameras quickly turned their lenses toward us, intrigued by the scene.

"I gave you money to invest with some selfish hope, but you benefited far more. My mother is innocent! Please, if you just return it, I’ll do anything."

I frowned and took a step back.

"Stop this drama. You know exactly where your money went. I have the proof and I’ll shove it in your face when I get back."

Suddenly, Diane appeared in the distance, screaming, still carrying one of my designer bags.

"How dare you show your face here, you shameless woman! You’ve ruined my mother-in-law!"

"Everyone, look at this! She took our money and refused to return it. My mother-in-law’s life is hanging by a thread!"

The couple performed a flawless act, flipping the truth upside down and making me look like a monster.

Onlookers murmured among themselves. A camera lens zoomed in on my face.

It took all my strength to push through the crowd and escape.

Back home, I learned that the person who snapped my photo was an entertainment reporter, originally there to stalk a celebrity.

Instead, he stumbled onto what he believed was a sensational scandal.

I laughed bitterly—looks like I was about to become "famous."

Sure enough, my social media accounts were soon flooded with hateful comments.

Calvin and Diane even had a heart-wrenching interview. By the end of the video, they issued a direct plea:

"Ms. Rowe, how can you steal life-saving money? Aren’t you afraid of divine punishment? Please return it quickly. The public has sharp eyes—we won’t be fooled by your excuses."

The video triggered a storm of online outrage. Netizens from all corners rushed to join the attack.

One even posted my location—just two kilometers away.

"Brothers, want answers? I can drive you there myself."

Another dug into my background.

"I found out she graduated from a top university. So much for that school’s reputation!"

"Don’t lump us in with her. It’s embarrassing to share the same alma mater. She probably bought her diploma!"

"Her parents are highly educated? If I were them, I’d hang myself in shame. How can they travel around while their daughter steals from the sick?"

“Maybe their travel money was stolen, too. If the head of the family is corrupt, the rest won’t be any better.”

“People sent you money because they trusted you. Even life-saving money wasn’t spared. No wonder you’re isolated now.”

In no time, netizens dug up every bit of my personal information. The insults spread far beyond me—they targeted my entire lineage.

Even on my old daily posts, people who once praised me now hurled vile insults, all because of unverified rumors.

Reading through the comments, I felt like a boulder was crushing my chest.

I couldn’t let this continue.

I organized every transaction and record, determined to print them out and throw them in Calvin’s face.

Just then, my mother called. Her voice was trembling.

“Honey, what’s going on? A group of young people confronted us just now. They started yelling at you. Your father got so upset he could hardly breathe.”

“Are you being bullied? Don’t be scared—Dad and I will come home right away to support you.”

I didn’t cry when strangers defamed me or spat venom online. But hearing my mother’s voice, my eyes burned, and tears finally fell.

I didn’t want them to worry, so I gently reassured her. I said I’d handle everything, step by step.

Then I noticed a new comment—someone had posted a photo of my parents.

“Hey, family, anything to explain? I’m about to give them a lesson on raising a daughter right.”

My ears rang instantly. I almost collapsed under the weight of panic.

“Mom, where are you and Dad? Are you okay?”

“We’re fine. Your father was struggling to breathe from anger, so we went back to the hotel to rest.”

I finally exhaled.

“Good. Stay there and don’t go out. Please don’t worry about me.”

After hanging up, I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

They could insult me all they wanted—but dragging my family into it was something I wouldn’t tolerate.

I called Calvin.

“Hello? What’s up? Thought of a way to pay me back yet?”

His smug voice oozed arrogance. I fought the urge to slam the phone against the wall.

“I’ll say it again. You transferred every cent voluntarily. You know exactly where the money went.”

“Oh, and you recently won the lottery, right? Just be honest, return the money, and I’ll help calm the netizens down for you.”

“If not… well, I can’t say what those impulsive people online might do.”