Amy's voice cracked with raw emotion, her fragility laid bare for all to see.

"Ms. Sinclair, you don’t have to remind me. I already know my time is running out." She swallowed hard, tears glistening in her eyes. "You're right. Everything Alexander gave me was a lie. I'm sorry."

The screen cut abruptly to footage of Victoria being "pushed" into the water by Amy, followed by a heartbreaking scene where Victoria bowed her head in apology, her spirit utterly broken.

Then, as if to cement the narrative, another clip played—Victoria stumbling on the sidewalk that very morning, nearly colliding with an oncoming car.

The internet erupted.

[Victoria only has six months to live, and Amy's out here wishing death on her?]

[Sleeping her way to the top? Disgusting! His wife is pure evil. Who knows what else she's done to make Victoria sick!]

[So this tragic love story was torn apart by Amy? What a monster. And I actually thought she was pretty.]

[Pretty? My cousin’s a plastic surgeon—her face is 90% fake.]

[Poor Victoria. Not only did this homewrecker steal her man, but she tried to kill her too!]

[This is attempted murder! Someone tag the police—this psycho needs to be locked up!]

[Life’s so unfair. Victoria’s talented, beautiful, a world-class violinist… and now this illness? The universe is cruel.]

[I heard Amy hasn’t worked a day since they got married. Just a useless trophy wife, nothing compared to Victoria.]

The backlash was brutal. Unrelenting.

Normally, scandals like this had some debate—people questioning the victim’s motives, pointing out inconsistencies. But not this time. Not a single voice defended Amy. Overnight, she became public enemy number one.

Amy scrolled through the comments, her expression unreadable. She exhaled sharply, then closed the app.

Her phone rang again.

She glanced at the screen. Nathan.

After a beat, she answered.

Nathan’s voice dripped with condescension. "Amy, Victoria’s awake. Alexander is demanding you come to the hospital and apologize."

Amy’s reply was ice. "I’m not going."

Nathan laughed darkly. "Alexander said you’ll regret it if you don’t."

Amy’s grip tightened on the phone. "Tell Alexander that marrying him is the only regret I’ll ever have."

She hung up and powered off her phone.

By morning, the story had gone nuclear. Amy’s name was everywhere—but not in a good way. She was trending, but for all the wrong reasons.

The next day, Amy went through her usual routine, making breakfast for Oliver as if nothing had happened.

When it was time for school, she led him downstairs. The moment they stepped outside, something flew at her face.

"Amy Sinclair, you homewrecking murderer! How dare you show your face!"

Instinct screamed at her to dodge—but Oliver was right beside her. If she moved, he’d get hit. So she stood firm, shielding him with her body.

Splat.

A rotten egg exploded against her forehead, the stench overwhelming as yolk oozed down her face.

A group of young women charged at her, armed with spoiled vegetables, eggs, and water bottles. Their eyes burned with fury.

The moment they spotted her, the assault began.

"You psychotic bitch! You tried to drown Victoria! Rot in hell!"

"Fake-ass plastic surgery monster! If men saw what you really looked like, they’d vomit!"