Chapter 3

Within five minutes, Philly's top influencers—secretly funded by the mob—rushed to the scene with their camera gear.

@PhillyRealTalk, @SweetLikeHoney, @CityGossipQueen. These influencers with millions of followers swarmed in like sharks smelling blood.

"Listen up, guys! The biggest drama in Philly is right here!" @PhillyRealTalk shoved a camera in my face. "Look at this trash!"

"She stole her sister's money to pay off gambling debts!" @SweetLikeHoney screamed, adding fuel to the fire. "She caught an STD and killed her baby! Sick!"

Tens of thousands of viewers flooded the streams instantly. The comments poured in like a waterfall:

@PhillyPrince: I am literally shaking with anger.

@SunnyDay2023: Pure trash! Doesn't deserve to be around decent people.

@BlackWidow: How does a woman like this have the nerve to stay alive?

@PhillyPride: A disgrace to Philly!

The viewer count climbed insanely fast. A hundred thousand. Two hundred thousand. Half a million...

The hashtags #PhillyGoldDigger and #ToxicSister quickly hit the trending pages.

The crowd went crazier. People started throwing coffee cups at me. Hot coffee splashed on my skin, leaving red burns. Half-eaten sandwiches smacked into my hair. Mayo slid down my cheek in a sticky mess.

A few guys who looked like construction workers even smashed beer bottles at my feet. The glass shards sliced my ankles. Blood soaked into my socks.

I squatted in the broken glass. I shielded my head with my arms like a prisoner waiting for execution.

The influencers' cameras filmed my misery from every angle. The streams were full of vicious mockery.

"Alessia!"

A familiar voice called out from the edge of the crowd.

I snapped my head up. I saw Grayson pushing desperately through the mob. His face was full of worry and fury.

"Move! Everybody move!" He shoved past the people blocking his way. "Alessia!"

Tears welled up in my eyes the second I saw him.

This man. This man who still showed up when the whole world blamed me. He was my only safe harbor in this world.

But Rocco didn't even glance at Grayson. He just waved a hand casually, like swatting a fly.

Two massive mob enforcers immediately got the hint. They blocked Grayson less than ten feet away from me.

"I'm her fiancé!" Grayson gasped for air, trying to push them aside. "Let me go!"

Just as he spoke, one of the thugs punched him hard in the gut.

Grayson doubled over in pain. He doubled over, gasping for air.

The crowd burst into harsh laughter:

"Hahaha! Look at this nice guy!"

"Cucked and he doesn't even know it!"

"Poor idiot!"

The influencers aggressively pointed their cameras at Grayson. The live comments got even nastier:

@NightOwl: This dude is a total loser too.

@CityHunter: Deserves it for getting played by a chick like that.

@PhillyGirl: Run away, bro! She's not worth it.

Rocco's men grabbed Grayson by his hair. They dragged him to his own black Mercedes parked by the curb. Then they grabbed his head and slammed it brutally against the hood.

A dull metallic thud rang out. Blood dripped from the corner of Grayson's mouth. It left a bright red streak on the black paint.

"Grayson!" Adrenaline surged. I violently tore away from the thugs holding me. I threw myself over Grayson's bleeding body, shielding his head desperately with my own arms.

"No! Don't you dare touch him!" I screamed, my voice hoarse. "He has nothing to do with this!"

My heart shattered. A suffocating pain gripped my chest as I looked at his bruised face. This gentle, innocent man. He never hurt a soul. He is suffering this brutal humiliation just for loving me. I wiped the blood from his mouth with trembling fingers. My soul ached for him.

"Pull her off," Rocco sneered.

The thugs grabbed my hair. They dragged me away without mercy, pinning me back down onto the broken glass.

I'm so sorry, Grayson, my heart bled for him as I watched him gasp for air. I swear on my life, I will make them pay for every drop of your blood.

Rocco walked slowly over to the broken beer bottles. He kicked a piece of glass with his toe, making a sharp clink.

Then he pointed at Grayson, who was kneeling on the ground, bleeding. He declared loudly to the influencers' cameras:

"See that? Even her fiancé doesn't know what kind of woman he's marrying!" His voice was full of vicious satisfaction. "A liar, a gambler, a whore! This is the real Alessia!"

Watching Grayson suffer this kind of humiliation because of me, I closed my eyes. Tears finally spilled over. They weren't tears of weakness. They were tears of poisoned hate.

Right at that moment, Rocco's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and his face changed instantly. It was his custom ringtone for Seraphina—Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

"Seraphina?" He answered immediately. His voice turned soft. "Baby, are you okay?"

A weak, trembling voice came through the phone: "Rocco... I... I lost the baby."

Rocco's eyes instantly went bloodshot. The phone almost slipped from his hand. All the background noise seemed to vanish. There was only Seraphina's crying voice.

"What? What happened? Where are you?" His voice started to shake. "I'm coming right now!"

"It... It was Alessia." Seraphina's voice grew weaker. "She was jealous. She locked me in the yacht's bathroom. I... I slipped on the bathroom tiles trying to get away. And then... the baby was gone."

Several microphones were pointed right at us.

In that moment, the entire street fell into a chilling, dead silence.

Rocco turned his head stiffly. He stared at me.

I looked up through my messy hair. I met Rocco's stunned eyes. I smiled.

Finally.

The real show is about to begin.