Chapter 3My Husband Sent Me to the Crazy Horse

At first, when the comments got really vicious, I tried to fight back. Tried to explain. I wanted to scream, "I WAS DRUGGED! IT WASN'T MY CHOICE!"

But I quickly realized it was useless. Arguing with online trolls, with people just jumping on the hate train for clicks? Pointless. Like shouting into a hurricane.

The only way to shut them up, to clear my name, was to find the person who drugged me. The real culprit. If I could expose them, prove what happened, maybe the online mob would back off.

It sounded like a solid plan. Reality? Not so much.

Ryan spent a whole week supposedly "investigating." Checking security footage, talking to people… Or so he said. Then he came back with nothing. Zero leads. Said the attacker vanished without a trace. Like a ghost.

Meanwhile, the online abuse just got worse. Louder. More intense. In just one week, my name hit the trending topics list over twenty times across different platforms.

Things started to feel genuinely unsafe. One time, a particularly nasty troll actually followed me home. Found my apartment building. After that? I was terrified to even go out for groceries alone.

Another week of living like that – scared, paranoid, barely sleeping – and I felt like I was losing my mind. My mental state was fraying.

I couldn't just sit around anymore. I told Ryan, "I have to do something myself. I need to find who did this to me. Make them pay."

But Ryan… he just tried to calm me down. In a way that felt… off.

"Chloe, maybe just… lay low for a bit longer? It’s not safe for you out there right now. And finding this person… it takes time. It’s not gonna happen overnight."

His words hit me like a slap in the face. "Lay low? Just - endure it? Easy for you to say, you're not the one getting death threats every five minutes! Are you even trying to find them? Or do you just… not want to?"

He stammered, caught off guard. Took him a second to respond. "Of course, I want to find them! Don't be ridiculous. Just… trust me. Leave it to me, okay? I'll handle it."

I mumbled a "yeah, okay," trying to keep my face neutral. But inside? Alarm bells were ringing. Loudly. His reaction… it didn't feel like someone genuinely trying to help. It felt like deflection.

I was suddenly sure. He was hiding something.