Within ten minutes, Ainsley posted a new video, screenshotting Victoria's post and those comments.

She choked with sobs, shaking all over. "I'm so scared. They're all bullying me! Paige Russell has turned the company into her personal dictatorship. All the employees have been brainwashed. They're all in cahoots. This place is terrifying. They're ganging up to attack me!"

"In cahoots" became the new trending term. A massive cyberbullying campaign against my employees kicked off.

Victoria's home address got leaked. Her kid's photo got photoshopped into an obituary and spread everywhere. Chloe's phone blew up with curses and death threats.

Every employee who supported me got doxxed. Their inboxes overflowed with hateful DMs.

[Bootlicking bitch!]

[Brainwashed idiot! You deserve it!]

[May your whole family drop dead!]

When Victoria came to me, her eyes were swollen, and her mental state was unstable. She deleted the post, weeping, "Paige, I'm sorry. My kid is only three, and my husband wants to divorce me. Those people are monsters."

She handed in her resignation, and so did Chloe and those from the tech and marketing departments. The employees who had defended me yesterday collapsed under the nonstop harassment and threats. They quit one by one.

Ainsley became the hero fighting against office politics, and the company got slapped with labels like "in cahoots" and "pyramid scheme brainwashing".

Our reputation was in the gutter.

A week later, I sat alone in the deserted office. On my computer screen, the whole internet was pushing videos of Ainsley and her fiancé in happy interviews.

The man hugged her, promising on camera to protect her forever.

My DMs were stuffed with all sorts of curses wishing me and my family dead. Worse still, they exposed my personal info—ID, home address, and phone number, and pasted them everywhere.

People kept splashing red paint on my apartment door. Black marker scrawled "toxic hag" and "to hell". The property manager cleaned it three times a day and still couldn't keep up.

My mom called, scolding me, "Paige, have you lost it? Look at what they're saying online! Throw away your company over something so small? Hurry up and apologize to that girl!"

My dad yelled in the background, "You're just twisted because you can't get married! Jealous of that girl's happiness! You've shamed our family!"

I hung up, but my peace was short-lived as Ainsley went live again in a big way, streaming her wedding preparations from trying on dresses and picking rings to decorating the new house.

In every stream, she shaded me. "I really gotta thank my ex-boss. Her oppression made me see who truly loves me. Why do women have to make it hard on each other? Hope she can get over it someday."

Comments gushed: [Ainsley, you're so kind.]

Gabriele called an emergency board meeting and gave me an ultimatum. "Paige, you have two options. One: hold a press conference right now, apologize to Ainsley, approve her leave, and compensate her for emotional distress. Two: all shareholders will dilute your shares and boot you out. Your choice."

"I refuse to apologize," I said flatly.

Gabriele paused, then cursed, "You're a lunatic!"

The call ended abruptly.

The next day, the industry blackballed me, removing my name from every business forum. I went from a star entrepreneur to a disgrace. No one dared mention me again.

Ainsley posted her wedding invite e-card on social media. She didn't block me; she even tagged a few ex-colleagues who'd quit, including Victoria and Chloe.

She made sure I saw it.

That night, my best friend came to talk me down. She looked at my paint-splattered door, heartbroken. "Paige, you can't fight public opinion. Ruining ten years of hard work over a newbie? Not worth it! Just swallow your pride and make an apology. It will blow over. Why so stubborn?"

I didn't explain, just staring out the window. Looking at the shocking red paint on my door, I felt nothing inside.

I opened my phone notes, quietly jotting down Ainsley's wedding date and the hotel venue from the invite.

The board issued a public statement: [Due to Paige Russell's egregious personal conduct, which has caused irreparable damage to the company brand, by unanimous board decision, effective immediately, she is removed from her CEO position, and all her shares are frozen.]

I got fired from the company I founded. The news hit, and the internet celebrated.

Ainsley's wedding happened on the same day. She live-streamed the whole thing, with viewership breaking ten million.

She wore an expensive custom gown and flawless makeup, basking in her life's peak moment.

In the stream, a viewer brought me up. [What happened to your toxic boss? Is she dead?]

Ainsley covered her mouth, faking sympathy. "Oh, guys, don't bring her up today. It's my big day. I actually feel bad for her; she's got nothing left now."

Her eyes gleamed with smug challenge on camera. "If she thinks I faked documents or lied about anything, she can totally sue me."

She chuckled, "I'm waiting for her lawyer's letter."

The chat erupted in laughter.

[Hahaha, like she can afford a lawyer now?]

[Let her bring it to court. See if she will win.]

[Ainsley, just ignore that crazy hag.]

My phone rang again. It was my mom, her voice breaking. "Paige, please stop being so stubborn. Your dad had a heart attack and was hospitalized. We're old; we can't handle this social pressure."

I hung up without responding, but then, a message came from Victoria: [Paige, I've given up. I can't fight them; I'm just a regular person. You should, too.]

Silent, I watched the live feed. Ainsley and her groom were about to exchange rings.

It was about time. I shut off the stream.

At the wedding venue, the music hit its climax, and the crowd cheered.

"Now, the groom may kiss the bride!" announced the priest.

Right then, the ballroom doors flung open, the huge noise drowning out the music. Every guest, plus millions watching live, looked over.

Ainsley stiffened at the sight of me, her face going pale. She pointed a finger at me, screeching, "Security! Get this crazy woman out! She's here to cause trouble!"

The guards rushed over in a panic, but I was unstoppable. Ignoring her screams and the stunned guests on both sides, I walked straight to the stage.

The priest was too shocked to speak. The groom, Donovan Pope, shielded Ainsley, yelling, "What are you doing here? Get out!"

I took the mic from the priest, smirking at Ainsley. My voice wasn't loud, but it echoed through the speakers across the room and the stream. "Relax. I'm here to deliver a gift."

I turned to the cameras and guests, holding up a flash drive. "You wanna sue me? Watch the evidence first."

I went aside to the control console and plugged in the device before the staff could react. The screen flickered on, displaying a file—Ainsley's onboarding paperwork at my company.

The livestream viewers froze.

I grabbed a laser pointer, a red dot landing precisely on the key date. It was the day before her wedding leave request.

The room went dead silent for three seconds. Then a round of gasps echoed.