The story ended.
Silence hung heavy in the room.
The sympathy in their eyes shifted—now it was all contempt and judgment.

Finally, a bold reporter broke the tension. "Mr. Saun, if that's the case, why did you keep someone like her around after rebuilding SaunCorp?"
Spencer's smile was bitter. "Probably because she looks too much like Fiona. I know it was wrong—wrong to hurt the person I love most and... wrong to hurt Miss Lane as well.
"What happened at the wedding wasn't Fiona's fault. She's suffered so much, and we're deeply sorry for everything Miss Lane went through.
"Fiona was consumed by guilt after everything. She's too kind, too fragile. She couldn't even attend today's press conference—she's been unwell, carrying the weight of all this."
The reporters ate it up. A noble, tragic golden couple.
Sure, they had flaws, but who could really blame them?

As the press conference ended, the narrative flipped.
A live broadcast of the whole event was already spreading online, fanning the flames.
By the time I stepped out of SaunCorp Tower, the backlash had reached me.
Rotten eggs flew through the air, splattering across my clothes and hair.

I stumbled home, filthy and broken.
Clara was waiting at the door, her eyes red from crying. She pulled me into a fierce hug, whispering apology after apology.
She helped clean me up, her hands trembling as they brushed over the jagged scar along my right side.
"Why didn't you tell him the truth?" she asked.
I wanted to say, 'I tried.'
The public's outrage against Fiona had completely flipped, turning into a tidal wave of hate aimed squarely at me.
Online, people were tripping over themselves to apologize to her.
Although videos of her tearing off my clothes at the wedding remained online, some questioned the narrative.
SaunCorp wasted no time releasing her medical records—proof of her "severe depression."
And in the most careful, calculated way, they made it clear: I was to blame.
Soon, the world started cheering for their love story instead.
And me? I became the villain who deserved everything coming her way.
[Ungrateful wretch—how dare she betray the Saun family after all they did for her!]
[Mrs. Saun must be rolling in her grave, knowing she raised a snake!]
[This is why status matters. Trash will always be trash.]
[Our sweet angel Fiona! That monster pushed her to the edge. Spencer needs to take care of her and bring her happiness back!]
My health kept spiraling.
Without money for dialysis, my body was breaking down, piece by piece.
I stopped going outside Clara's apartment.
The lack of sunlight made me look even worse—pale, sickly, hollow.
***
One day, Clara yanked me out of bed.
She slapped a bank card onto the table. "We're not staying in this dump anymore! I'm taking you away!"
She had sold the only house her parents left her.
At first, she thought about using the money to keep me alive a little longer. But she knew me too well. If there was no hope of getting better, I wouldn't want to spend my last days hooked up to machines in a hospital.
So instead, she took me back to the fishing village where we'd grown up.
The trip home wasn't easy: A flight, a car ride, and then a boat.
Before the plane even took off, I found myself fiddling with an old, broken hair tie I couldn't bring myself to throw away.
I'd had it for years.
It reminded me of when I first transferred to Spencer's school. Back then, most of the kids called me a "country bumpkin" and refused to talk to me.
My hair was always a mess because no one would help me fix it. They'd say I looked like a beggar. Some even threw tissues at me—used ones, streaked with snot.
That day, Spencer bolted out of the school gates.
He came back minutes later with a cheap hair tie he'd bought from a street vendor for 50 cents.
Awkwardly, he pulled my hair into a ponytail.
It was the first kind thing he'd ever done for me.
The little daisy on that hair tie had felt like a seed, quietly blooming in my chest.
"Miss, do you need any assistance?"
The flight attendant's voice jolted me back to reality.
I shook my head and handed her the hair tie.
"Can you toss this for me? It's broken, and I don't need it anymore."
"Of course, Miss. Please buckle up. We'll handle it for you."
The plane's engine roared, the sound rattling through the cabin.
It crushed the tiny daisy blooming in my heart.