Late that night, I was scrolling through social media when my finger slipped, and I liked a rant that said, "No women would like to date Aries men."

A few minutes later, Rachel Lewis, my ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend, flooded my private messages.

[Stop trying to get Marcus's attention with these pathetic little tricks.]

[You already broke up.]

[A decent ex stays dead.]

[You're damaging Marcus's reputation.]

[I'll give you one chance to delete it.]

[Otherwise, you'll face the consequences.]

I laughed.

I had broken up with Marcus Gibson, my Aries ex-boyfriend, three years ago.

[I dumped that piece of trash out three years ago. I don't care if you picked him up and started treating him like a treasure, but stop acting like someone's trying to steal him from you every day.]

That pushed Rachel completely over the edge. She sent me an Excel spreadsheet right away.

[Fine. Since you're so over him, pay back every cent Marcus spent on you while you were dating. Otherwise, that proves you still want him.]

I looked at the bill.

Eighty-seven cups of coffee, eighteen movie tickets, that sad bouquet of roses he bought me for Valentine's Day, and even the chamomile tea he bought me when I was having my period...

[The total is 4,300 dollars. If you don't transfer the money within three days, I'll make sure the whole internet knows who you are.]

I stared at it, stunned. Then, I ignored the madwoman.

The next day, my social media exploded.

I couldn't help but laugh in anger as I looked at the long post on my phone.

I never thought that after breaking up with Marcus for three years, his current girlfriend would still be stalking me.

I was not planning to respond, but my account blew up before long. Private messages from strangers all over the country started coming in.

[Playing dead? You think staying quiet will solve anything? Marcus may be soft-hearted, but we aren't pushovers.]

[You liked that post because you wanted to imply he was terrible in relationships, didn't you? Stop playing innocent after doing that! Marcus is so upset he can't sleep, and this is all your fault! If you don't delete the post and apologize, we'll contact a lawyer and sue you for ruining his reputation!]

[You manipulative witch! I heard you're about to get engaged? Does a backstabbing witch like you deserve happiness? I hope you get dumped in public on your wedding day! That would suit your true nature!]

My hands went ice-cold, and I was shaking with anger. I knew those accounts all too well. Jack Summers, Ian Smith, Zachary Brown... They were all part of Marcus's circle of friends.

Three years ago, they had helped Rachel turn my relationship with Marcus into a complete mess.

I still remember the day Marcus made our relationship official. Rachel had curled up in his arms and cried to the point where his shirt was stained, hinting that Marcus had betrayed their friendship.

"Alright, behave now. I'm dating someone. I'm not cutting you all off." Marcus patted Rachel's back, his voice gentle, as if he were comforting a child. He did not care at all how awkward I looked standing beside them.

Back then, Rachel was the reason we always fought, but Marcus and his friends always took her side and accused me of being petty and jealous over nothing.

Then came Marcus's birthday. Rachel posted a photo of Marcus asleep in her bed.

[Someone got so wasted he insisted on crashing at my place, so this beauty had to sleep on the couch! Dinner is on you! @MarcusGibson]

Only then did I finally come to my senses. I threw out the cake and dinner I had carefully prepared and broke up with Marcus.

He did not try to keep me.

Rachel, on the other hand, quickly sent me a message to "educate" me.

[Girl, relationships are first-come, first-served. I've known him for twelve years. You've only known him for a year and a half. Learn some sense and don't make things too difficult for everyone!]

I did not reply. Instead, I blocked and deleted everyone's contacts, Marcus included.

I thought that would be enough to escape a disgusting relationship. I never expected that three years later, all because my finger slipped and I liked a horoscope post, they would come back like sharks sensing blood.

Looking at the screen full of curses, I took a deep breath and opened Rachel's chat.

[Three years have already gone by, and you're still working diligently as Marcus's twenty-four-hour unpaid security guard? Your obsession is really impressive.]

[I suggest changing your social media introduction to "Marcus's personal watchdog". After all, not everyone can be like you, standing guard and patrolling her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend's page every single day.]

[One post I liked was enough to make you spiral like this? With all the time you spend stalking me, you might as well keep a closer eye on Marcus, in case he starts flirting around and you can't keep up.]

[Friendly reminder. Your actions already constitute defamation. Do you need me to tag the police account for you?]

Just as I sent the last message, the front door suddenly flew open.

I looked up and saw Ashford White, my fiancé, just getting off work. He had not even changed out of his shoes. He walked toward me while still holding the files for the next day's court hearing.

"Zoey, did you accidentally offend someone?" Ashford frowned and handed me his phone. I looked down, and my blood almost froze.

His private messages were stuffed full of my so-called nude photos and explicit videos.

Even more infuriatingly, Rachel had brazenly sent him private messages to harass him. [My dear handsome boy, I like you so much! Your girlfriend Zoey Jones doesn't deserve you! She's not exactly innocent and naive like she portrayed! Come find me, and I'll tell you everything!"

I could feel the anger building inside of me as I stood up from the couch. "How can she be this shameless?!"

I then told Ashford the entire story. He listened quietly, his expression growing darker, but his eyes on me stayed gentle and steady. "Don't worry. Leave it to me."

He was a well-known lawyer who specialized in defamation and tort law. He had seen cases a hundred times worse than this, and he was good at weaponizing evidence and law.

While I was washing up, he took the opportunity to save screenshots of every private message, edited photo, and harassment, all with clear timestamps and account IDs. Together, they formed an airtight chain of evidence.

After that, he stayed up all night organizing the lawsuit materials and writing the police report. The logic was clear, and every point was laid out neatly…

-

Early next morning, we took all the evidence to the police station.

Ashford's professional statement and fully recorded evidence made the police take the case seriously, and they quickly opened an investigation.

I sent Rachel a photo of the case filing receipt through a private message.

I thought all of this would finally end, but I had underestimated Rachel's malice and her talent for manipulating public opinion. After I sent the message, Rachel did not reply. Instead, she went straight to Facebook and started a livestream.

Rachel had studied acting, and because a few low-budget web dramas she had filmed had recently started airing one after another, she had gained quite a few fans and a good reputation with casual viewers.

All her arrogance was gone in front of the camera. She wore a plain white shirt, no makeup, her eyes red, looking so miserable that anyone would feel sorry for her.

She then took the words I had used to fight back the day before, cut them out of context, and stitched them together as proof that I had lashed out because I was guilty, as she sobbed.

She said, "Marcus and I have been childhood friends for more than a decade. We grew up together. Back then, she was the one who came between us. If she had treated Marcus well, I could have blessed them even if I felt sad, but she only treated him like an ATM...

"Despite being about to get engaged, she's still clinging to my boyfriend and insulting me. Is it wrong for me to ask for an apology?"

In the livestream comments, messages like "don't cry" and "I feel so bad for her" flooded the screen.

Rachel seized the opportunity and twisted the truth even further. "When you're too kind, people take advantage of you. Now that things have come to this, I can't keep hiding it anymore!"

Her voice turned firm as she said, "Back then, Zoey was the one who betrayed Marcus first! She was seeing another man behind his back and being intimate with him. Marcus was too softhearted and covered it up for her, but she turned around and blamed him instead!"

As she spoke, she held her phone up to the camera and showed those photos in bed that were impossible to tell whether they were real or fake, then pinned accusations of cheating and seeing several men at once on me out of thin air.

Before the livestream ended, she also showed a police receipt and declared that she would use the law to protect her rights.

For a while, tags like #FeelingBadforRachel, #Vicious Ex, and #MaketheCheaterApologize quickly shot up the trending list.

I did not know how many paid accounts she had hired, but public opinion soon turned completely one-sided.

My Facebook was invaded again, and it was a hundred times worse than before.

In the livestream, Rachel had exposed not only my real name, but also my Facebook ID. Countless people swarmed in and drowned my comments and private messages with the filthiest words.

Some people even dug up my address and openly threatened me.

Out of desperation, I posted that morning's police receipt and a lawyer's statement, but no one believed me at all.

[The law is the law, and morality is morality! Even if the law can't do anything to you, we'll never let a witch like you get away with this!]

They were like madmen who had lost all restraint, freely unleashing their malice from behind the screen through the protection of anonymity on the internet.

At that moment, a strange account suddenly sent me a message. [Well? Now, do you know what I'm capable of?]

Before I could reply, HR sent me a message telling me to come to the conference room.

The moment I walked in, I saw the HR manager and the Assistant CEO sitting across from me, both having grim expressions plastered on their faces.

"Ms. Jones, public relations flagged some negative public sentiment about you this morning." The manager then pushed a tablet toward me. On the screen was the trending topic, #ViciousEx#.

The manager continued, "After careful consideration, senior management has decided to suspend you for now. Once this storm passes, we will..."

"On what grounds?" I stood up. "This is slander! I've already reported this to the police!"

The vice CEO rubbed his brow wearily. "The company understands your situation, but you are the brand director. You represent the company's image. Now that public opinion has escalated, it has already affected our product's reputation and sales. We have to consider the bigger picture, and we hope you can understand and cooperate."

"Your idea of understanding and cooperation is declaring me guilty before you even figure out what happened?" I asked as I stared at him.

The HR manager quickly smiled and tried to defuse the situation. "Ms. Jones, don't make it sound so bad. The paid leave is only a temporary measure. Once the truth comes out, the company will definitely clear your name."

I walked out of the office with my few personal belongings, and whispers rose behind me.

"I never expected Ms. Jones to be so wild in private!"

"You really can't judge people by appearances. She always looked so detached. No wonder she became a director after only one year here!"

"I heard her fiancé is a lawyer, too. To make a lawyer take responsibility for her mess… She's really quite impressive!"

I stopped. Then, I turned around and stared straight into their evasive eyes. "I was set up!"

All I got in return was open snickering and mockery.

"Rachel is an actress. Why would she frame you for no reason?"

"Where there's smoke, there's fire. If there was nothing wrong with you, how could anyone set you up?"

With that kind of victim-blaming logic, every defense sounded weak and useless. And this was only the beginning of cyberbullying.

Rachel's extreme fans splashed red paint all over my front door, covering it with words like "witch", "homewrecker", and "die". They also dumped piles of trash and rotting animal carcasses outside, and the stench spread through the entire hallway.

Even my parents back in my hometown were harassed. Strangers kept calling them out, viciously insulting them and saying I was "selling myself outside" and had "disgraced the whole family".

My father's blood pressure spiked from anger, and he was rushed to the emergency room for observation overnight. My mother held back her fear and tears, still trying to sound calm over the phone.

"Zoey, everything is fine at home. Your dad is just a little tired. He'll be alright after resting for a day or two... You're out there alone, so be careful and stay safe. Don't worry about us…"

Listening to my mother force herself to stay calm on the other end of the phone and looking at my ruined front door, I felt helplessness and rage nearly swallow me whole.

The legal process needed time. Before then, what else could I do to protect myself and my family?

Just as I was thinking of a plan, my phone suddenly rang.

A familiar voice came from the other end, carrying a faint, complicated emotion. "Zoey, it's me, Marcus. Can we... meet and talk?"