Chapter 2

Even though I was a board-certified plastic surgeon who graduated from a top medical school with an annual salary in the seven figures, they made it seem like I was still beneath some shady, pathological liar of a "girlfriend who studied abroad".

To put it bluntly, they were either stupid or malicious.

My family just got three apartments and a hefty sum of money from the government after they bought up our old property for redevelopment.

Meanwhile, Patrick's family had nothing but a mountain of gambling debts.

Dad was trembling with rage, the crab claw he'd been holding finally dropping to the floor.

"Nonsense! You're all spouting nonsense!"

My dad, an honest man who had never clashed with anyone in his entire life, was now fighting for me.

"Jillian is a legitimate doctor! She's busy with surgeries every day, so how could she possibly make videos like that? One more word of this nonsense and all of you can get out!"

"Hey now, Myron, don't be so quick to kick us out." Aunt Anita laughed sarcastically and continued, "Where there's smoke, there's fire. It's Kelsey's first time here, and she doesn't even know Jillian. So, why would she falsely accuse her for no reason? She must have proof!"

Patrick caught on quick too. His eyes darted around, a greedy gaze sweeping over our newly renovated, spacious apartment. A cold, calculating look crept across his face.

Kelsey was still sobbing in his arms. But hidden in his arms, she shot me a provocative glance. It was the look of a victor.

"Uncle Myron, don't say I'm being heartless." Patrick cleared his throat and put on the air of a family patriarch. "This has blown up now, and Kelsey is an influencer with hundreds of thousands of followers.

"If Jillian's video gets out, how are we supposed to show our face in public? Who would ever want to marry her after that?"

My mom, Eileen Bates, clutched her chest, her face deathly pale. "Th-then what do you suggest we do?"

Patrick sighed and patted Kelsey on the shoulder.

"Kelsey has suffered a huge injustice here, and Jillian is spreading these filthy rumors about her. There's no way this doesn't warrant emotional damages. And on top of that, to keep her followers' mouths shut, we're going to need to spend serious money on PR."

He paused, fixing his eyes dead on me. "Here's what I think, Uncle Myron. Didn't you just get three apartments from the government?

"Transfer one to Kelsey as compensation for emotional distress and another one to me as payment for cleaning up Jillian's mess. We'll bury this whole thing and take it to our graves. How about it?"

I nearly burst out laughing.

He went through all that trouble of spreading nasty rumors and putting on a whole sob story just to fleece us for everything we had.

I knew it. They were in this together from the start.

How else would an entitled freeloader like Patrick, full of big ambitions but empty pockets, suddenly show up on Christmas Eve with a "woman" whose plastic surgery was so obvious that one could spot it from a mile away?

They were clearly in cahoots.

"One apartment for Kelsey, and one for you?" I pulled out a chair and sat down, drumming my fingers lightly on the table.

I looked at Patrick, my eyes showing not a trace of panic. If anything, there was a hint of amusement.

"Patrick, you've got quite the appetite. Aren't you afraid of biting off more than you can chew?"

Patrick's expression darkened. "Jillian, don't push your luck. I've got the link to that video right here on my phone. One tap, and your dirty little secret will be blasted straight into our neighborhood group chat and your hospital's work chat!

"When that happens, not only will you lose your job, but you'll also have people talking behind your back for the rest of your life."

Right on cue, Kelsey lifted her head. With reddened eyes, she said pitifully, "Jillian, I don't actually want your money. If you'd just get down on your knees, apologize to me, and admit you made up those rumors because you were jealous of me, I'd be willing to let this slide.

"But Patrick's right. My reputation matters too." As she spoke, she rushed toward the window. "I'd rather die than be accused of being transgender. I'm going to jump to prove my innocence!"

"Good heavens! Don't do it!" Aunt Anita and Aunt Rita rushed over to grab her. "Sweetheart, don't do anything foolish. Trash like her isn't worth it!"

In an instant, the whole apartment descended into chaos—crying, yelling, frantic pleading all melting into a blur of noise.

Mom and Dad were utterly at a loss. In fact, Mom had already started wiping away tears, and when she looked at me, her gaze was filled with despair and doubt.

I watched this farce unfold with cold detachment.