Chapter 3When His Mom Mistook Me for a Homewrecker, All Bets Were Off

"You're mistaken," I gasped, pain lancing through me. "He's my father's friend. That was my birthday party."

"You damned harlot! You finally admit it! Beat her to death!" Brenda seemed to go berserk, utterly deaf to my explanations. Punches rained down on my head and body like a relentless storm. My throat constricted, and then I coughed up a mouthful of blood.

"Stop if you know what's good for you! My dad is the CEO of ApexCorp!" Revealing my identity was the only way to make her stop now.

But she just acted crazier, clawing at my throat and sneering: "Trying to scare me? Who in this room would believe that garbage? You shameless seducer! You deserve this. You classless, unhinged piece of trash!"

At that, something snapped inside me. I couldn't take it anymore. I fought back, lunging for her hair and pulling with all my might. She seemed shocked by my resistance. Her eyes blazing red, she shrieked at her cronies: "Get this trashy harlot off me!"

I clung on, refusing to let go. Seeing this, one of her goons grabbed a nearby stool and smashed it down on my arm. A searing pain ripped through me, my arm felt like it had snapped. I curled into a ball on the floor, trembling with agony, fear gripping my heart as I stared at my mangled limb. I was an artist. My right hand was everything.

Brenda kicked me again and again, like a maniac. "You trashy harlot, still fighting back? Strip her!" A few of them lunged forward, clawing at my clothes. I clutched my clothes tight, trying to hold them together despite the pain.

"Hey, sis, mind if I go live and show everyone this home-wrecker's true colors?" Brittany asked, a gleam of cruel delight in her eyes as she looked down at me.

"Go for it," Brenda casually agreed, glancing at me. "Good for everyone to see what happens to a mistress."

Her eyes suddenly went wild again, and she lunged, her hands clamping around my throat. "He never gave me a gift like that. But he gave it to you?" I was close to suffocating, my vision blurring.

I fumbled in my pocket, found my phone, and pressed the power button five times, sending a distress signal to my dad. Meanwhile, Brittany, her voice sickeningly sweet, aimed her phone's camera right at me. "Hey, fan fam! Today, I'm bringing you a live broadcast of my high school classmate getting caught red-handed as a home-wrecker!"

Instantly, Brittany's livestream viewership soared into the tens of thousands.

"Wow, so juicy!"

"How can that woman be so shameless, ruining someone else's family?"

"She looks like she's selling herself, probably trash through and through."

"Go, Queen! Beat that filthy tramp to death!"

The comments section exploded, people furiously cursing me. Brittany watched her follower count skyrocket, her eyes gleaming with unconcealed excitement and thrill.