I didn't pack up and leave right away. I acted as if nothing had happened.

If Fred wanted to play games, then fine. I would play along and see this whole twisted competition through.

I had already made up my mind. I was going to drag everything they had done out into the open.

Not just for myself, but for every girl they had lied to and tossed aside. I wanted the whole world to see what they really were behind those polished, fake smiles.

I reopened that post and messaged the girl who wrote it.

She replied not long after.

We agreed to meet at a small coffee shop downtown.

She was tiny, thin, and dressed in simple clothes. She looked like she was still in school. I could see the grievance, mixed with quiet anger, in her gaze.

After getting her permission, I asked her to walk me through everything: how her ex had lied to her and how she found out about the whole selection game.

She had already gathered a stack of evidence.

I recognized her ex right away. He was one of the guys in Fred's group chat. I had met him before; he was polite and soft-spoken, the kind of guy people trusted at first glance.

As it turned out, he was just as disgusting as the rest of them.

I asked if she knew any other girls who had been through the same thing. She nodded and sent me a few contacts.

Over the next few days, I worked quietly, collecting proof and reaching out to more girls who had been used and discarded by that group.

Most of them were willing to speak up.

Only one kept hesitating.

No matter how I tried to reassure her, she wouldn't agree.

"Even if we expose them, what changes? Their families are powerful. We don't have anything. They'll come after us. I tried posting about them before. It got taken down. After that, they harassed me for months. I even got death threats. I had to move three times…"

Her voice made my chest tighten.

I softened my tone. "Hey. It's okay. I'll take the heat. You won't have to face them alone."

I knew exactly who Fred and his friends were.

To most people, they were untouchable.

But to my family, they were nothing.

Still, she hesitated.

I didn't push her. I just told her to think about it and let me know.

When I got home, I heard low, breathy sounds drifting out from the kitchen.

I stopped in my tracks.

The door was slightly open. Through the gap, I could see two figures pressed together, moving in a way that made my stomach turn.

I thought about all the meals I had cooked in there, day after day. It made me feel sick.

I pulled out my phone, turned on the camera, and aimed it quietly at them.

Once I had what I needed, I stepped back, slipped my phone away, and raised my voice as if I'd just walked in.

"Fred, I'm home!"

The noise inside stopped instantly.

After a brief rustling, I pushed the kitchen door open.

Fred's shirt was still unbuttoned, his chest half exposed, panic written all over his face. Ayla Butler was wrapped in his jacket, her clothes a mess and her cheeks flushed.

Fred forced himself to sound calm. "Hannah? Didn't you say you had plans today? Why are you back early?"

I didn't even look at him. I walked straight up to Ayla and slapped her across the face.

"Get out."

She froze, one hand covering her cheek while staring at me in disbelief.

Fred immediately pulled her behind him, his expression dark as he snapped at me.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I just asked her to come over and cook for you. Didn't you say you've been craving creamy mushroom soup? I can't make it, so I had her help. Why are you hitting people for no reason? Apologize right now!"

I almost laughed at how ridiculous it sounded.

"Do you think I'm deaf? Does cooking sound like that?"

Ayla's eyes turned red, her voice soft and shaky. "I just got splashed by the soup. We were really just cooking. Please don't misunderstand…"

As she spoke, she picked up the pot from the stove and held it out toward me.

"If you don't believe me, try it yourself…ah!"

Before she could finish, her foot slipped. Her whole body pitched forward.

The pot of boiling soup tipped straight toward me.

I jerked back on instinct, but it wasn't enough. The scalding liquid splashed across my legs, heat exploding over my skin.

Both of us cried out and fell to the floor.

But the next second, Fred rushed to Ayla and scooped her up, panic filling his eyes.

"Are you okay? Did you get burned?"

He glanced at me once, then carried her straight out the door.

"Babe, wait for me to get back."

I bit down against the pain, forcing myself up. I turned on the sink and ran cold water over my legs again and again.

The skin was an angry red, the pain so sharp that it made my vision blur. Sweat soaked through me.

I called an ambulance myself.

At the hospital, even as they treated the burns, I couldn't stop shaking. Every touch made me grit my teeth.

I checked my phone.

Ayla had posted.

[Ugh, burned my hand, but it's okay. He stayed with me the whole time, so it doesn't even hurt.]

In the photo, her hand had a small patch of redness. Compared to the burns across my legs, it was nothing.

And the hand holding hers belonged to Fred.

Right then, another message popped up. It was the girl who had been hesitating before.

[I've decided. I'll join you. I'll help expose them.]

During my stay at the hospital, I found out Ayla was in the room right next to mine.

Her injury was barely anything, but she must've known I was here. She checked in anyway, just to get under my skin.

Fred stayed with her almost the entire time. He only came to see me occasionally, as if I was an afterthought. When he saw the bandages wrapped around my legs, something like concern flickered in his eyes.

But it didn't last. His tone quickly turned into blame.

"Couldn't you just be a little more reasonable? You just had to pick a fight with Ayla and ended up like this. She was just trying to help, coming over to cook something for you."

I ignored him.

"Come on. Don't stay mad. Ayla's just my secretary. We've been together for five years. Don't you trust how I feel about you?"

Before I could respond, her voice drifted in from the next room, soft and sweet.

"Fred, I'm hungry! Come feed me!"

His eyes flickered. "She burned her hand. It's hard for her to eat on her own. I need to help her. I'll be right back. Get some rest."

I watched him walk out.

A moment later, laughter and playful voices spilled through the wall from next door.

That was when I noticed that he had left his phone behind on the nightstand.

I picked it up and opened it, pulling up that group chat like muscle memory.

They had already been talking again.

[Dude, why have you been giving Hannah lower scores lately? Your company anniversary gala's in a month. If you keep this up, she's gonna lose. You still planning to propose or what?]

[Man, girls who know how to play the game really get to you. I'd pick Ayla, too. Marry her, keep her at home looking pretty, then come back every day and have a good time.]

[Hannah's been with you for five years. If you don't marry her after all that, she might just lose it.]

[Why not introduce her to us instead? We'll help her get over it.]

The chat filled with laughter, the kind that made my skin crawl.

Then, Fred replied.

[Hannah's been acting up lately. Hence the docked points.

[But I can tell she still loves me. Otherwise, she wouldn't be jealous of Ayla.

[As for the proposal, I've already set everything up for the gala. When the time comes, I'll just pick whoever I want on the spot.]

I quietly took screenshots of the key messages and saved them.

Then I put the phone back exactly where it had been and lay down, closing my eyes to pretend that I was asleep.

When Fred came back and saw me resting, he didn't notice anything and left again soon after.

I picked up my own phone and called my private assistant, giving instructions to start preparing a few things.

One month from now, I would make sure those men lost everything.