Chapter 3

The situation began to escalate out of my control two hours after I ended the livestream.

Firstly, a few marketing accounts covered the incident. Each headline that they released was more outrageous than the last.

"Livestreamer With a Million Followers Rejects a Mother's Call for Help to Find Her Child. Coldly Refuses to Comment on His Refusal."

"The Faux Saint Finally Shows His True Colors After Three Years."

"She's Been Searching for Her Son for Two Decades. He Refuses to Explain Why He Rejected Her."

The photo that was attached with the articles was an edited picture of me when I had emotionlessly ended the livestream last night and Felicity when she had cried in front of the camera.

The contrast between both photos was stark.

The comments section was filled with people expressing their opinions.

Someone dug up the cases I had solved in the past and said, "I wonder if the people he helped in the past were just setups."

"Someone like him depends on sob stories to gain views. He's getting cold feet now that he has to deal with an actual case."

"Can someone check if he actually solved those cases after accepting payment from his clients?"

However, the one thing that actually made my blood pressure soar was a video that was posted at 3:00 pm.

I knew the man who posted the video—George Ferguson. He was in his 40s, and I had helped him last year.

His daughter was being bullied by her teachers, but the school refused to take action while the Department of Education constantly shifted blame to other parties.

After reaching his wits' end, George decided to seek help in my livestream.

I helped him get into contact with the media and a lawyer. I spent two weeks on the case before finally solving it.

George had been sobbing when he thanked me profusely during the livestream, promising that he would remember my kindness for the rest of his life.

However, at that moment, he had released a two-minute video.

In the video, George wore a self-righteous expression as he said, "It's true that I received help from Connor in the past, but I feel that I have to step forward and speak out about what's been happening.

"A mother who's been searching for her child for the last two decades begged you for help, but not only did you reject her request, but you also refused to give her a reason for your rejection.

"I don't know if you've changed or if you've always been this way. If you've always been this type of man, did you only help me in the past for views? I really regret thanking you. You don't deserve my gratitude."

The video had thousands of comments. Everyone was praising George for speaking out against me.

"Good on you for putting righteousness above all else!"

"This is a real man with a good heart."

"He only helped you because he wanted to build his fake persona. Now, that persona is crumbling."

I stared at the video for a long time, my knuckles turning white from how hard I was gripping my phone.

I had made dozens of calls when I was helping George. I had also forked out my own money to pay the eight-thousand-dollar lawyer's fee.

George still hadn't paid me back yet, but he had used a two-minute video to undermine everything that I had done for him.

However, I suppressed my anger. Not because I had to, but because there was no need for me to rise to the bait.

The truth was like a ticking time bomb. I didn't want to set it off yet because the moment it exploded, more than one person would be caught in the blast.

…

I received a call from Mom at 7:00 pm.

"Someone egged our house, Connor," she said.

My heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"Someone threw eggs at our house. Someone even used a bag of rotten vegetables," she said, sounding a little anxious. "They also left a note on the door, talking about how someone who refused to help a person in need would meet a terrible end."

I tightened my grip on my phone and said, "Don't open the door, Mom. I'll—"

"Also," she interjected in a hushed voice, interrupting me, "Mrs. Bratford dropped by to visit us today. She told me that you're being criticized by everyone online—that they're calling you a conman. She asked me if you had done something bad. I told her that was impossible, but her gaze…"

Mom sounded choked up when she continued, "What's going on, Connor? I don't know what's happening online, but you should tell me if you're in trouble."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm fine, Mom. I can take care of it. You and Dad should stay home for now. I'll come home tomorrow."

I sat in the darkness and didn't move an inch after I hung up.

My screen was lit up, showing Felicity's newest video. She was still crying on the thumbnail.

Her crying face looked so anguished and genuine, just like two decades ago.

I didn't watch the video.