Chapter 3: Family Ties and Public Shame

Once I got into the car, I checked my phone.

Several of my buddies had messaged me:

[Bro, you’re trending! Do you know the guy next to your fiancée is an influencer?]

[Damn, you got cheated on. Someone just sent me the photos. Why is Rachel flaunting her pretty boy in front of you? What a piece of work!]

[That influencer always brags on his TikTok about a woman who spoils him rotten. Turns out it’s Rachel.]

[I can’t believe it—Rachel never dated before. We all thought you hit the jackpot. How did it end up with her cheating on you?]

They meant well, but every message was a little dagger. I crafted careful replies to each, then checked the trending topics.

Crystal-clear photos and videos showed the whole confrontation between me and Rachel.

All the comments sided with the influencer:

[Isn’t this woman just jealous of our Tyler? Now she’s trying to seduce his girlfriend.]

[Didn’t you see how Tyler’s girlfriend treats him? She’s almost exasperated, but she’s still so nice to him.]

[That guy keeps hanging around them. After they left, he just stood there, acting all heartbroken.]

[Seriously, what a homewrecker. Stay away from rich girls!]

So my fiancée had already become someone else’s girlfriend.

I leaned back in the rear seat, eyes empty.

Outside, the city blurred by in streaks of neon and headlights. This trending topic has stayed up so long—and only gotten hotter. Rachel must be behind it.

Does she really like me, as the comments claim?

Is her so-called love just letting the internet twist the truth and pour endless insults on me?

I closed my eyes in pain.

After a long while, I dialed a number, my voice hoarse: "Get someone to take down the trending topic, now."

The comments came alive again:

[Poor Marcus, he can’t take it anymore. If only he’d apologized and softened up, things wouldn’t be like this...]

[These clueless netizens are just piling on. Tyler’s the real homewrecker, I’m furious.]

[The heiress really went too far.]

[This trending topic is going to be hard to kill. People are creating accounts just to attack Marcus. If the Reed Group sees this, it’ll definitely affect their stock price.]

My gaze lingered on that last comment.

Sure enough, my phone rang not long after. The person on the other end sounded helpless: "Someone keeps buying the trending slot. We’re trying to take it down, but it’s not working."

I stayed silent. The other side sighed. "Did you offend someone? This topic is being pushed up over and over again. That’s not cheap. Your fiancée isn’t taking it down, just watching."

Because the one buying the trending slot is my fiancée.

But soon, she won’t be.

My father called next, his voice full of fury: "Marcus, what’s going on? If someone hadn’t told me, I’d still be in the dark!"

Dad’s voice boomed through the car speakers, heavy with the authority of a man used to getting his way in the boardroom. I clenched the phone so hard my knuckles went white. Same old Dad—never missed a chance to twist the knife. I steadied myself. "Rachel cheated. Is that my fault too?"

"She’s just a woman, what are you afraid of? If you coax her a bit, everything the Sullivan family has could be yours! And now you’re trending—what a disgrace to the Reed family!" His voice rose sharply.

I explained patiently, "Rachel bought the trending spot. The man is someone she keeps. Dad, this has nothing to do with me. I’m already working to take it down."

My father sneered. "You can’t even win over a woman’s heart. Useless."

He hung up.

The car stopped. The driver turned back. "Mr. Reed, we’ve arrived at the house."

I stepped out, walking like a ghost toward the dark two-story home.

My father’s words ring hollow. He cheated back then, kept a whole group of women, and still blamed my mother for being old and unattractive.

He forgot who used her inheritance to help him start his business, who was always working behind the scenes, sacrificing everything.

Even the gold-framed photos on the wall seemed to judge me as I passed by, dust motes swirling in the stale, air-conditioned silence.