Chapter 25

It happened in the blink of an eye—two seconds, maybe less. From the outside, my movements were smooth, controlled, and utterly precise. Clinical. But that wasn’t how the internet saw it.

According to the production script, Lilith was supposed to put on a brave face, endure the dislocated thumb, and tell the crowd to clear the way for the ambulance—camera-perfect nobility. Instead, she screamed once... and passed out cold.

Noelle had no choice but to scoop her up and rush to the hospital. The extras who’d gathered scattered just as quickly, vanishing into the background like they’d never been there.

But while the chaos on set fizzled out, online chaos erupted like wildfire.

>”Wait… why did Lilith faint from a thumb dislocation? I’ve had one. It hurts, but not THAT bad.”

“That was like, two seconds max. She probably blacked out from panic.”

“Are we sure Mia even knows what she’s doing? She’s, what—eighteen? Where did she get a medical license?”

“No way that certificate’s real. Someone @ the Hoyles Pack medical board, we need answers.”

“This isn’t Mia’s fault—Lilith was the one who jammed her hand in a damn fence during a livestream.”

“She was picking up trash, okay? Trying to help!”

“More like pretending to help. Why reach through bars instead of over them? Use a tool, genius.”

“Can we talk about how badass Mia was though? That snap-snap motion? Looked like a drama fight scene.”

By noon, Mia had taken over the internet.

#MiaSnapsBack

#FracturedPrincess

#MedicalFraud?

#LilithGate

#RealityShowMess

Every trending tag was about the incident. And almost everyone tied to Lilith? Negative.

Even the posts Justin paid PR firms to push—like “Lilith, Beautiful & Kind-Hearted” and “Lilith Heroically Clears Ambulance Path”—were flopping, buried under the backlash.

Trolls were the only ones still cheering her on. The rest of the internet had turned her into a punchline.

---

At the hospital, Lilith stared at the headlines in disbelief. Her manicured fingers clutched her phone so tight her knuckles went white.

She was supposed to go viral. Justin’s team had orchestrated this moment, and Mia ruined it—again.

“She came back after ten years and just keeps stealing everything! First, she hijacked my “sister” image. Now, this? Why won’t she just die already?!”

“Noelle...” Lilith whimpered, turning to her assistant with wet lashes. “What am I going to do? My thumb’s fractured, I’m off the show, and... and no one even believes in me anymore.”

Noelle sighed and set the takeout down. “Stop crying, Lilith. You’re going to smear your lashes. Justin’s already on, it—he’s furious. He’s not going to let Mia get away with this.”

But Lilith had already tuned her out.

She glanced at the corner of the table... at the CT scan and diagnostic report. An idea sparked. Something dark. Something perfect.

---

Fifteen minutes later, Lilith had kicked Noelle out of the room and logged into an anonymous burner account.

She sent a message—and the report—to Shadow Wolf, a notorious celebrity exposé influencer on X.

“Blow her up. Here’s proof she fractured my thumb. $50,000 now. $200,000 when it trends.”

She hit send with a smile and waited.

Within an hour, Shadow Wolf’s “Photographer Cili” uploaded a highly edited takedown video.

Title: MIA IS VICIOUS: The Truth About the “Medical Genius”

The video was merciless. It slowed down Mia’s hand movements frame by frame, comparing them to textbook dislocation tutorials. Every difference was underlined. Every pause, every angle, every flick of the wrist was treated like a calculated act of malice.

“This wasn’t a medical reset. It was bone-breaking.”

“Her license? Fake. She’s too young to even sit for the exam.”

“Who’s her sugar daddy? How did she get certified without qualifications?”

The internet flipped.

Comments flooded in:

“This girl’s a fraud.”

“That wasn’t medicine, which was violence.”

“@Hoyles Pack DOCTOR — any thoughts on your ‘genius protégé’?”

“If that’s real, I’m the Queen of England.”

---

Across the city, Dr. Hoyles Pack, a 60-year-old legend of Traditional and Western medicine, was brushing his teeth when his grandson shoved a phone in his face.

“Grandpa, everyone’s tagging you. Something about a fake certificate?”

He slipped on his glasses, tapped play—and three minutes later, his jaw clenched. His weathered face flushed red with rage.

He called immediately.

“Mia?! I just saw this nonsense online. They’re saying the certificate I personally signed for you is fake?! They’re calling you a liar and vicious?! This is slander!”

Back at the set, I picked up the phone as the first episode wrapped. “Hang on, Doc—I’ll check the net really quick.”

Thirty seconds later, I was scrolling through a tidal wave of hate, half of it directed at my skill, the rest at my soul.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I saw it.”

“I’ll go public,” he snapped. “I’ll make a statement and defend you—”