Chapter 3

I couldn't stop sobbing, and my hands clenched tighter with each passing second. In the end, I tore the diary apart with all my strength and collapsed weakly onto the floor.

Familiar footsteps sounded on the floorboards, and Clarence stood there with his shirt half open. "So you saw everything," he said calmly, as if I were the one who had done something wrong.

I lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar, my eyes bloodshot. "Then what am I to you? Clarence, tell me—what was I to you, really?"

Without a hint of remorse, he leaned back slightly and casually uttered, "A substitute."

I felt as though a million ants were gnawing at my heart. Then, slowly releasing my grip on his collar, I laughed through tears. "Just a substitute, huh?"

Clarence's gaze swept over me, and he swallowed dryly. "Now you know. Anyway, I won't be getting married in the next two years, so you can choose whether to stay or to leave. It's up to you. I won't interfere with your decision."

A suffocating sensation filled my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. Then, I pushed myself up against the wall. My throat felt raw and aching. "Fine. I'm leaving."

…

After moving out of the Fraser residence, I took Grandpa to a hotel. I worked during the day and looked for a place to live at night.

But the next day, I was plastered all over the trending page.

"Famous Journalist Sells Her Body for Money—All Scoops From Sugar Daddies!" And alongside that headline were photos of my grandfather and me standing outside the hotel.

As soon as I set foot into the office, my colleagues shot me strange looks.

"I didn't—" I wanted to explain, but my colleagues just covered their mouths and snickered.

My boss tore into me, and I was forced to issue a public apology and resign.

I tried to clear my name using my personal account, but my posts were quickly drowned out by new composite photos of me with various men. Most of those intimate shots were fabricated from photos I had taken with Clarence in bed, and every article was credited to Lynette.

I felt as if there were a rope tightening around my throat.

Finally, unable to control my emotions any longer, I confronted Clarence. "Why were those photos leaked? And how did they get those photos? And why is Lynette listed as the journalist? You knew that was my grandfather and me! So why didn't you stop them from posting the photos?"

Clarence pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly irritated.

"Lynn saw the photos and used them without my knowledge. She finally achieved something and gained recognition from her superiors, so I didn't want to crush her confidence. It's not a big deal anyway. Once the commotion dies down, everything will be fine."

"What do you mean it's not a big deal?" I shouted, slamming my hand down on the table so hard that water splashed from a glass. "Clarence, I lost my job, and my reputation is ruined! Do you have any idea how my colleagues see me now? How am I supposed to carry on in this industry?"

"That's enough," Clarence cut me off with a frown. "Can you stop being so selfish? All you think about is yourself. Can't you think about Lynn for once? Do you really hate seeing her do well that much?"

I was so livid that my breathing sped up. "She fabricated everything! She framed me! Can't you see that she's a person with no morals?"

The next second, a slap landed sharply across my face.

Clarence's gaze darkened. "Don't you dare talk about her like that. Bethany, you've lived well off me for years. What's a little hardship now?"

Tasting the metallic tang of blood on the corner of my lips, I simply swallowed it. My head was still spinning. This was the first time he'd ever hit me in the seven years that we'd been together.

"Just you wait, Clarence."

After I left, I gathered evidence and reported Lynette for fabrication.

But the moment I sent it out, all my accounts were forcibly taken offline. And then, I saw a post, which I'd never posted, coming from my account.

"I sincerely apologize to my colleague, Ms. Lynette Wyndham. Driven by jealousy and envy, I deliberately caused her harm and distress. My conduct was disgraceful, and I proved myself unworthy of being a journalist.

"I accept full responsibility for my actions and will withdraw from the journalism industry entirely. I welcome public scrutiny and will accept whatever criticism comes my way."

Immediately after, I received a text message from Clarence. "If you do anything like that again, I'll make sure you do not survive in this city."

From then on, Lynette took my place by his side. Using his influence, he helped her become the most famous journalist in just a few months. Whenever she was mentioned in public, he would smile and praise her for her own hard work.

Yet back then, he had called me immature when I simply wanted to use his connections to interview someone.

I closed my eyes, feeling a sting at the corners. I decided then and there that I would take Grandpa and leave this place for good. But I never expected to be cornered at the airport.