In the year when love was at its purest, Aaron MacBricc, the heir of the MacBricc Family, spent over a hundred million dollars to buy all the fireworks in the city and set them off all through the night.

The sparkling fireworks bloomed in the sky, spelling out six giant words, “Barbara Alvarez, I love you.” - all in hopes that I would glance his way.

Three years after our marriage, he had become infamous in our circle as a doting, wife-obsessed man.

When I was away on a business trip for a week, Aaron missed me so much he couldn't sleep. He chartered a helicopter to cross thousands of miles to see me for a moment.

When I suffered a minor injury, his eyes turned bloodshot with worry. And that night, he invested over a billion dollars to open a private hospital dedicated solely to serving me.

But when my mother was involved in an accident at the factory, her entire arm was caught and crushed in a mixing machine.

I begged the hospital to save my mother, but Aaron held Cecilia Jarrige tightly around her slim waist and coldly ordered the hospital director to kick us out.

“Cecilia's dog just got hit by a car,” he said, voice frosty. “Medical resources are stretched thin—no need to waste time saving some old hag!”

My mother was left partially paralyzed. I swore I would fight for justice for her.

But suddenly, a so-called “righteous” female influencer  posted a video:

“It was this old woman who was greedy for money. She intentionally staged an accident to extort money from the factory. Otherwise, why would so many workers be unharmed while she lost her arm?”

Under the conspiracy theories spread by online trolls, the number of likes on this video increased.

My mother was cyberbullied and doxxed. Her emotions broke down and she nearly jumped from the building.

I desperately posted comments to clarify and explain, but I was banned. Two hours earlier, just as I was about to seek help from Aaron, I discovered that.

Aaron had liked that video.

——

My blood felt as if it had frozen solid. I stood there stunned, unable to believe what I saw.

I thought the account had the same profile picture and username as Aaron's.

The next second, Aaron sent me a video link.

“Please give me some likes. The little girl is insisting on becoming a 'heroic citizen' influencer, but her data isn't reaching the required numbers. Cecilia is about to cry.”

The “little girl” he was referring to was none other than Cecilia, the female influencer who had been claiming that “my mother staged an accident to extort money and intentionally stuck her arm in a mixer.”

That video was also the one that had deliberately twisted the facts and slandered my mother.

I trembled as I dialed Aaron's number.

“Are you even human? My mom is the victim here. How could you like and share such a video that turns facts upside down?”

“This kind of baseless slander, painting victims as villains, isn't heroism at all. She's just morally bankrupt!”

There was silence for two seconds before Aaron's cold laugh came through the line.

“Immoral?”

His voice was as cold as ice, devoid of any warmth. “Barbara, you're so casual in your judgment of Cecilia. Aren't you the one who's immoral?”

Half an hour later, Aaron sat across from me with composure.

He slid his phone across the table.

“Barbara, look closely. It was your mother who put her arm in there herself. She didn't take proper safety precautions, did she?”

His voice was as gentle as ever, his tone as if he were soothing a child.

I recalled three years ago when my mother was hospitalized. Aaron held me, my eyes red from crying and reassured me repeatedly.

“Don't worry, your mother will be fine. I'll arrange the best medical resources for her.”

He had visited several spiritual pilgrimage sites and meditated to pray for his mother-in-law's safe recovery.

But only three years have passed.

He stood on the opposite side of me and my mom, twisting the truth for the sake of the gold-digger he was keeping on the side.

I clenched my fists tightly, staring at the surveillance video in front of me.

Anyone with eyes could see that the machine had malfunctioned, causing my mom's entire arm to be sucked into the mixer and ground into minced meat.

“Aaron MacBricc!” I said.

I clenched my teeth and my voice was shaking.

“You know my mother's character. She's not the kind of person who would stage an accident to extort money. She nearly lost her life and now has to endure such slander. I swear I will clear her name.”

Aaron laughed as if hearing a joke, waving his hand dismissively:

“Enough. What justice? It's just a small matter. It's just that the money wasn't paid on time.”

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a check and quickly wrote down an amount.

“How much do you want? I'll make it up to you. 20 million, is that enough?”

“30 million?”

I bit my lip so hard, tasting the strong taste of blood.

Aaron grew impatient.

“50 million should be enough. More than enough to buy your mother's life.”

He flung the check at me, then pretended to wipe away the tears on my face with the other hand.

“Barbara, your mother's arm is already gone. Causing more trouble won't change anything.”

“Cecilia is obsessed with becoming a influencer. She's stubborn and headstrong.”

Aaron gave an indulgent smile. “She's always so competitive at everything. If the likes for this video aren't good, she'll come crying to me again and I won't be able to comfort her.”

Before I could react, he snatched my phone away.

Just as he was about to like that humiliating video, I rushed forward like a madwoman, “Aaron!”

But the bodyguards acted quickly and stopped me.

I could only watch helplessly as Aaron lifted his hand carelessly and pressed down on the stamp that had brought shame upon me and my mother.

I collapsed in despair, tears streaming down my face.

“Aaron MacBricc, I won't let you get away with this. No matter what it takes, I will get justice for my mom.”

Aaron stood up calmly, about to leave, but paused upon hearing my words.

He turned back coldly, a mocking smile on his lips.

“Barbara, my patience has its limits.”

“You know what I'm capable of when I decide to protect someone.”

With bodyguards at his side, he strode away while I lay sprawled on the floor, feeling as if icy water had been poured over me. I knew he wasn't lying.

In the purest years of our love, Aaron had once risked his life to protect me.

I was kidnapped by one of Aaron's admirers, my body bound with ropes, about to be thrown into a den of men to be abused. Aaron stabbed several people and rushed in recklessly to save me.

When he held me, his voice trembled, “Be good, Barbara. It's okay now...”

The next day, I heard that the suitor had been imprisoned, his family had gone bankrupt and he was kneeling in repentance for what he had done to me.

Because of this incident, Aaron rose to fame—he became known as the most devoted husband in our circle.

He traveled across the ocean to celebrate my birthday, bringing my favorite strawberry cake and appeared before me at midnight sharp.

When I suffered a minor injury, his eyes turned red with worry.

That night, he invested over a hundred million to open a private hospital exclusively just for me.

But everything changed just months after he met a little-known influencer.

At the time, migrant workers who had been owed two years' wages climbed onto a rooftop and threatened to jump to their deaths unless the capitalists paid them back, making headlines on social media.

Cecilia was determined to become a popular influencer. That day, she capitalized on the news and posted a video criticizing these “shameless migrant workers.”

She accused them of being ugly beggars, intentionally playing the victim, trying to guilt-trip others with death threats.

“You're not helpless migrant workers at all. You know how to use the media and public opinion to stir up trouble. Don't tell me you didn't plan this in advance with ulterior motives?”

“In truth, all real migrant workers are doing honest work. We live in a civilized society now—if you're truly putting in the effort, how could you possibly not get paid?”

I stumbled across this video at the time and discussed it with Aaron MacBricc. “This influencer is so irresponsible. She didn't even investigate properly before making such reckless statements.”

Aaron's expression turned grim after watching the video.

“My wife is right. Who would threaten their own life on a rooftop just to claim what's owed, unless they were driven to desperation?”

“This influencer has no attitude. She should be banned.”

He reported the video with a click and then buried his face in the crook of my neck.

“I absolutely can't let this kind of nonsense appear in front of my wife and make her angry. I'll make sure you never have to see it again.”

Half a year later, unexpectedly, Cecilia posted a video saying that Aaron, the heir of the MacBricc Family, had invited her to join the “Million-Follower Influencer Training Program.”

In the video, Aaron, wearing his wedding ring, held Cecilia's waist and the two of them were acting very affectionate.

Seeing it, my eyes rimmed with red and I demanded an explanation, but Aaron only chuckled and tried to soothe me.

“Barbara, you know I've also started a media company and am looking for promising influencer candidates.”

“Cecilia Jarrige may be a little reckless, but she's still young. With some guidance, she might just become a big influencer.”

He looked admiringly at her photo on the promotional poster.

“Plus, she's straightforward and bold. Honestly, she reminds me of you back in your school days.”

Though I felt a strange sensation, I didn't think much of it.

What I never expected was how his attention always drifted back to Cecilia.

He mentioned that girl more and more often and nights away from home became frequent.

Until one day, an assistant hesitated before confiding, “Mrs. Barbara, there's something I'm not sure if I should tell you.”

“Mr. Aaron bought a villa in the suburbs a few days ago and said he wanted to keep it a secret from you. And that villa is...”

I looked up sharply. “What about it?”

“It's for Miss Cecilia to live in.”

As soon as the assistant finished speaking, Aaron's message came through.

[I'll be working late tonight and won't be coming home. You go to bed and don't wait for me.]

Hands shaking, I simply replied “Okay,” then stormed off to the villa with the assistant.

The moment the door was kicked open, I saw scattered underwear on the floor and a torn jacket thrown on the sofa.

The tie I had personally picked out for Aaron was tied tightly around Cecilia's wrist.

They clung together against the giant window, lost in each other's arms. When Aaron saw me, his face was drained of all color. “Barbara ... How did you find out about this place?”

But his first reaction was to tear off his jacket to shield Cecilia. The young girl hid behind him, flashing me a smug and victorious smile.

I coldly dropped the words “divorce” that day and ran out. My assistant was fired and we were in a cold war for several months.

Until my mother had an accident.

After calling my mother “Mom” for three years, I thought Aaron would at least stand by her and help us seek justice.

But instead, he was deeply in love with Cecilia, ensnared in their swirling romance, recklessly sacrificing my mother's reputation to boost her follower count.

I forced a smile and pulled out my phone, preparing to consult a lawyer to take legal action and sue everyone who had slandered and defamed my mother.

But just then, my mother's caretaker called, panic in her voice, “Miss Barbara, come to the hospital immediately! Something's happened to your mother!”

I rushed to the hospital like a madwoman. Before even reaching the building, I saw a crowd gathered below the inpatient ward.