The messages didn't stop. Same nasty accusations—homewrecker, gold digger. Some took it even further, twisting the truth, claiming she was selling herself. A few straight-up asked how much she charged.

Her face burned. Her hands shook. It felt like every ounce of blood had rushed to her head.

Breathe. Stay calm.

She pulled up a search engine. The top trending topic hit her like a punch to the gut.

A blog post.

From Sofia.

In her carefully spun story, she and Marco were childhood sweethearts. Marco had once helped Aurora out of kindness, but instead of being grateful, Aurora had set her sights on him.

She knew he had a girlfriend but still clung to him, hoping to climb the social ladder. But Marco never wanted her. When she failed to seduce him, she turned on Sofia.

Desperate to drive her away, Aurora spread lies to a professor, sabotaging Sofia's chances in the competition. The betrayal crushed Sofia—so much that she spiraled into despair and slit her wrist.

Attached was a photo of Sofia's wounded wrist—a deep, bloody gash against pale skin. The image, paired with her words, sent the internet into a frenzy.

The comment section exploded with outrage. Hate poured in fast.

Sofia had included just enough details for people to track down Aurora's social media. Within minutes, someone dug up old performance photos, zoomed in on her face, and plastered it everywhere.

Her profile was overrun. A few harmless posts about her daily life were now drowning in vile insults.

Then, it got worse.

Netizens flooded her school's official accounts, demanding her expulsion for being "morally corrupt."

Then came the real nightmare.

Someone dug up her phone number and ID, unleashing a new wave of harassment. Her private info spread like wildfire. Rumors morphed into something uglier. Her photos were edited into explicit images, plastered across shady sites.

Aurora's hands shook as she scrolled through the filth.

She fired off a statement, denying everything and vowing to prove the truth.

Big mistake.

The mob only got nastier.

Then, a new post surfaced—her supposed location. Someone claimed she was at a hospital. Not for an injury. For an STD. And the internet ate it up.

A chill shot down Aurora's spine.

Suddenly, the hospital felt like a trap.

She had to get out. Now.

She rushed to leave, yanking open the door—

And was slammed to the ground.

"You filthy woman! If you hadn't seduced me, my family wouldn't have fallen apart!"

The furious voice cut through the hallway, drawing gasps from onlookers.

Then—a sharp slap. Pain exploded across her cheek.

Aurora staggered, heart pounding. She looked up—

And froze.

Diego.

The man who had once tried to assault her.

The nightmare she thought she'd buried had just come back to life.

Diego yanked her hair, forcing her to face the crowd.

"It's her! She told me she was some poor, mistreated student. Said she'd admired me for years! I pitied her, gave her money—and how did she repay me? The second she found someone richer, she turned on me! Accused me of assault, ruined my life! I lost my wife, my business—everything!"

"No! That's not true!" Aurora fought to break free, but Diego's rant drowned her out.

Worse? Some people actually bought it.

"Look at her—she's got that seductive vibe. No way she's innocent."

"She's a dancer, right? That whole industry's built on stringing men along. Bet those awards weren't just for talent."

"What's she even doing at a hospital? Maybe she really does have something nasty."

At that, the crowd recoiled, some covering their noses like she was contagious.

Someone shoved her.

Another grabbed at her clothes.

A third held up their phone, filming every humiliating second.

It only stopped when hospital staff rushed in, breaking up the mob before things got worse.

Diego? He slipped away before anyone could stop him.

"Ms. Diaz, given the situation, we can't take any risks. You need to check out immediately."

Just like that, she was cast out. A walking scandal. Even on the streets, whispers followed her, strangers murmuring like she was some kind of urban legend.

She felt hunted.

By the time she reached home, her legs gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, too drained to move.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

Then, slowly, she pushed herself up.

She couldn't leave with this filth still clinging to her name.

Hardly anyone knew the truth about Diego. But the person who did? The one with the perfect motive to twist the story?

Marco Ramírez.

A cold wave crashed over her. Every secret, every vulnerable moment she'd ever shared with him—he'd turned them into weapons, stabbing her right where it hurt.

Her vision blurred. She wiped her eyes, grabbed her phone—barely functional from the flood of messages—and called her carrier. Blocked every unknown number.

Silence. Almost deafening.

Then, she did something she swore she never would.

She reinstalled the video app.

A few quick taps, and there it was—the footage of Marco's so-called proposal. The proof Sofia had lied.

Ironic. She'd once thought it would be the best moment of her life, even set up a secret camera to record it. Instead, it had captured the truth that would clear her name.

Next, she contacted the police. Through them, she got the elevator security footage—solid proof that Marco had locked her inside that day.

With everything in hand, she sent it straight to the school's official account.

[I'm sorry my situation brought negative attention to the school. Please release this footage—it should put the rumors to rest.]

Drowning in public backlash, the school reviewed the evidence. Finding no issues, they released a statement, officially setting the record straight.

Aurora didn't waste time on emotions. She packed.

The next morning, at the airport, she was checking in when a new message popped up on her screen.

[Regret it yet? Come apologize to Sofia, and I might be able to save you.]

Marco.

Aurora let out a cold laugh.

Without hesitation, she popped out her SIM card, tossed it in the trash, and boarded her flight to Fremora without looking back.