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.

Their voices carried on the wind, low with worry and pity.

“That old woman is truly tragic. Apparently, there was a malfunction in the factory machinery and both her hands were crushed. Her daughter was kneeling and begging the hospital director. Her head bleeding from the ground, before they managed to save her life.”

“Who would've thought she'd jump off the building just a few days later?”

“Sigh, she lost both her arms. No one could endure such a blow.”

“And they say she was very kind. She took in over 500 stray cats while she was alive. Guess she tried to take her own life just so her daughter wouldn't be burdened.”

My breath hitched. Heart pounding, I pushed through the crowd.

“Mom!”

I shouted hoarsely, rushing forward to embrace my mother. Her sleeves were empty and she lay motionless in a pool of blood, as still as if she were asleep.

The blood beneath her body was flowing more and more.

“Please, please save my mother! Call a doctor!”

My cries tore through the air as I hugged her chilled body, oblivious to the blood that soaked me, bowing my head to the ground before the onlookers, desperate for help.

People looked at me with sympathy. After what seemed like an eternity, a hand pulled me to my feet.

“Miss Barbara, you have my condolences.”

A doctor in a white coat offered a pained apology. “Your mother has already passed away...”

Watching the doctors rush around cleaning the scene, they covered my mother's face with a white sheet and carried her into the morgue.

On the day my mother died, an online frenzy was underway.

Cecilia used the video slandering my mother, quickly gained followers, breaking the million mark.

Aaron threw a lavish party to celebrate, inviting everyone in the company to attend and proudly posted the event on his social media.

“I knew my little girl could do it. Congratulations on becoming a million-followers. You'll climb even higher in the ranks now.”

I clenched my phone so tightly, feeling a piercing pain in my chest.

Below, Cecilia commented:

[Thank you, dear. If it weren't for you helping me, this little dummy wouldn't have reached a million followers anytime soon. Looking forward to my reward tonight.]

Cecilia was eating the blood-soaked buns made from my mother's flesh and still brazenly flaunting her success.

While my mother's body was still cold in the morgue, they toasted expensive champagne, basking in the glow of her death.

Why should they get to celebrate?

The comments under Aaron's post were flooded with congratulations—except for one starkly different reply:

[Aaron, do you have any shame left? Keeping a mistress is bad enough, but you're publicly posting disgusting things on your social media? Do you even remember you have a wife? Who was it who created the 'wife-obsessed husband' persona for you? Who was the unlucky one who married you.]

Within a minute, the comment was deleted.

Immediately after, Aaron posted another photo of a divorce agreement. My own signature stamp was prominently displayed on the page.

 “Let certain people open their eyes and see clearly. I am now single. My young girlfriend is not a mistress and I will never let anyone question her status.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. It turned out the assistant was right all along.

Two months ago, while I was asleep, Aaron had quietly pressed my seal onto the divorce papers.

I sat outside the morgue all day into the night, before I finally asked the caretaker beside me, “My mother was fine. Why would she want to jump off the building? How could my mom do this? She was always so strong. Even losing both arms, she promised she'd keep living for my sake.”

“She made it through, she said she would never give up—so what could have happened that made her desperate enough to die?”