I didn't give a damn about her wailing. I grabbed her and started dragging her toward the exit.

Claude rushed over and pried my fingers off Emma's wrist.

When I refused to let go, he drew back his arm—and slapped me across the face.

Crack.

The sound cut through the ballroom like a gunshot. The chatter died instantly.

Half my face went numb, then erupted in stinging fire, as if a thousand needles had pierced my cheek. My right ear rang with a high-pitched whine.

Claude looked stunned. He stared at his own hand like it belonged to a stranger, unable to process what he'd just done.

"Ha."

I ran my tongue over the corner of my lip. Tasted copper. A hollow laugh escaped me as I took one step closer to him.

Emma immediately threw herself in front of Claude like a hen shielding her chick, every muscle tensed for battle.

"What do you think you're doing?" she spat. "Even if Mr. Stephens hit you, it's because you couldn't keep your legs closed! You betrayed this relationship first!"

I looked at her—this martyr's performance, this breathtaking audacity.

I was so tired. Bone-deep exhausted.

"You keep saying I filmed explicit videos overseas." My voice came out flat, drained. "Where's the proof?"

"Little girl, you think you can just flap your lips and destroy someone's reputation?"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"She has a point—you can't just take one person's word for something like this."

Emma bit her lip, the picture of wounded innocence—a delicate white flower, trembling but unbowed.

"Fine." Her voice hardened. "You forced my hand."

She pulled out her phone and connected it to the venue's main screen.

The slideshow of engagement photos—Claude and me, smiling, happy—vanished.

In its place: a video.

A woman tangled with a tall foreign man, bodies intertwined. Her face was flushed with pleasure, lips curved in a dazed, intoxicated smile.

And that face—displayed in high definition for three hundred guests to see—was mine.

The ballroom erupted.

Mothers clapped hands over their children's eyes. Others leaned forward, gawking. Phones appeared everywhere, recording.

"Holy shit, she's wild!"

"Look at the way she moves—damn."

"Who would've guessed? She looks so wholesome, but behind closed doors? Absolute trash."

"'Studying medicine abroad'—yeah right. How many beds did she warm over there?"

"That's bold. Think she'll stay faithful after marriage? To just one man?"

The whispers were filthy, relentless, a tide of sewage rising around me.

Claude's face had gone a sickly green—the exact shade of the blanched vegetables on the banquet table.

Cynthia swayed on her feet, nearly fainting. She clutched at my gown, pounding her fists against me.

"I pitied you! Orphaned so young—I treated you like my own daughter!" Her voice cracked. "How could you be so shameless? How could you do this to my son?"

Emma sobbed, her whole body trembling, fingers clutching Claude's sleeve.

"Mr. Stephens, I just—I couldn't stand watching you get deceived by this... this used-up whore any longer!"

"You've done so much for me. Even if you fire me after this, I'll accept it!"

I folded my arms. A cold, bitter smile tugged at my lips.

"'Used up by men'?" I tilted my head, eyes locking onto hers. "I doubt anyone knows that feeling better than you."

Emma flinched like I'd struck her. Her gaze darted away—just for a second—before she shrank back into Claude's arms.

That tiny retreat was all it took.

Claude snapped.

He pulled Emma protectively against his chest, shielding her completely. His eyes were bloodshot when they fixed on me.

"Candice." His voice shook with rage. "How much longer are you going to humiliate her?"

"You're the one without shame. You're the one who's disgusting and depraved." He stepped forward, towering over me. "You think everyone else is as filthy as you?"

His chest heaved violently, his ragged voice laced with anguish.

"Ten years! I held you in my heart like the moon in the sky—untouchable, sacred. I couldn't bring myself to lay a finger on you because I thought you were pure. Precious!"

"And this is how you repay me?"

I stared at his contorted face and let out a bitter laugh.

"The moon in the sky? Claude, if you ever truly cared about me, why didn't you believe a single word I said? Not once."

"You didn't even bother to verify if the video was real or fake before deciding I was filthy?"

"Did it never occur to you that it could be an AI face-swap?"

Emma's shrill voice cut me off.

"Mr. Stephens put you on a pedestal, and this is how you treat him?"

"The evidence is right there! What, is he supposed to gaslight himself into believing you're innocent?"

I didn't waste another breath on her.

I stepped forward and grabbed her wrist.

"Emma, spreading rumors might only cost you an apology. But creating and distributing deepfake pornography? That's detention and fines at minimum. Prison time at worst."

"If you want to dig your own grave, I'll hand you the shovel."

Emma's face went chalk-white. She clutched her stomach and shrieked.

"Ah! My stomach... don't push me!"

She threw herself backward, slamming into the champagne tower behind her.

Crash!

The crystal pyramid collapsed in an instant—glass exploding outward, champagne flooding the floor in a glittering cascade.

"Emma!"

Claude's eyes blazed red with panic. He lunged to shield her, then whirled around and shoved me hard.

I didn't see it coming. My legs buckled and I crashed to the ground.

Several jagged shards of glass drove deep into my palm. Blood welled up instantly.

Claude's gaze flicked to my bleeding hand. For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—a reflex of concern.

It vanished just as quickly. He looked away, his voice turning harder.

"Save the victim act. Candice, I must have been blind. You make me sick."

"Don't think you're irreplaceable. Plenty of women would kill to be with me."

"I don't want you anymore. Get out."

Whispers rose around us like vultures circling carrion, every word dripping with contempt.

"Always knew there was something off about her. Finally showing her true colors."

"Mr. Stephens is right to dump her. Shameless tramp—she's disgraced her entire family line."

"Disgusting. She deserves to be thrown out like trash."

Mrs. Stephens closed her eyes. When she opened them again, only exhaustion and disappointment remained.

She shook her head slowly, released a weary sigh, and turned back to her seat. She didn't even offer me a hand.

A hotel attendant approached cautiously.

"Mr. Stephens, should we still have the officiant proceed with the engagement ceremony?"

Claude's answer came out like a roar of defiance. "Yes! Why the hell wouldn't we?!"

He grabbed Emma's hand and announced to the room:

"Today, Emma and I are getting engaged!"

Emma's eyes flew wide, her face alight with barely contained euphoria.

She nestled into Claude's arms, sobbing softly—just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

"Mr. Stephens... you really mean it? You'll give me and our baby a proper title?"

The blood in my veins turned to ice. I stared at Claude, shock stealing my breath.

"You... slept with her? She's pregnant?"

Claude's jaw clenched so tight the muscles jumped beneath his skin.

"Yes. So what? You get to whore around overseas, but I can't find a decent woman?"

He pulled Emma closer, right in front of me.

"At least Emma is clean. At least she's pure—which is more than I can say for you."

He jabbed a finger toward two security guards by the entrance.

"Throw this piece of trash out. Don't let her contaminate my engagement party."

The guards moved in and grabbed my arms.

I struggled to lift my head, my eyes locking onto Claude's. A hollow smile twisted my lips.

"Before you throw me out, Claude, I have one question."

I pointed at Emma, still basking in her moment of triumph.

"Did you know she has HIV?"

The words dropped like a bomb. The ballroom went deathly silent.