Who Are The Most Popular Online Influencers Right Now?

I had just left the hospital after undergoing a dilation and curettage procedure for uterine fibroids. On the bus, I happened to encounter a woman who was crying and claiming she had menstrual cramps and a terrible stomachache, asking me to give up my seat. But I refused. I never expected the woman to be the famous internet influencer, Bella Marsh. While I was completely unprepared, she started a livestream, and the next day, I was violently attacked online and pushed onto the trending searches. Netizens even dug up the record of my procedure at the hospital. “With a uterine wall that thin, it’s obvious she has had so many failed pregnancies.” “No wonder she was so shameless and refused to give up her seat—turns out she’s a despicable woman.” The so-called righteous netizens harassed me until I fell into depression, and even my boyfriend stepped forward to accuse me of being dirty and said he wanted to break up. Unable to endure the blow, I jumped from the rooftop, while the female influencer gained tens of millions of followers and began livestream selling, earning more money than she could count. Only after my death did I learn that the influencer had been my boyfriend’s childhood crush. To boost the popularity of her livestream, she and my boyfriend had deliberately staged the entire scene. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day Bella asked me to give up my seat.

On the day the male influencer patient was discharged, he posted a tearful video accusing my chaste, principled doctor wife of sexually assaulting him. In the clip, he cowered in a corner of the hospital, trembling, his clothes disheveled. With a terrified cry of "Dr. Shelby," he abruptly cut the footage. Overnight, my wife became a monster in a white coat—public enemy number one across the internet. We begged him, again and again, to come forward and clarify the truth. Instead, he posted an injury assessment report and wept about being bullied by his doctor. My wife had no way to defend herself. She was suspended pending investigation—and in the end, she leapt from the thirtieth floor. I endured humiliation and waited for the truth to surface. When it finally did, I obtained a reexamination report that proved her innocence. But by then, no one cared about the truth anymore. And I, consumed by despair, died of cancer. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day that patient was first admitted. This time, I begged my wife to take leave—I wanted to take her away from this doomed fate. But my gentle wife wrapped her arms around me, her eyes red, and said, "Don't be afraid, honey. This time… I won't run away."

On my way to work, I came across a livestream from an influencer who posted about her relationship, tagged at my company’s location. She was talking about her office romance with the CEO of a major corporation. But wasn’t the CEO of her company my husband? I clicked on her profile and saw that it was full of wedding-prep posts. The man never showed his face, but his build looked almost exactly like my husband’s. So I left a comment in the livestream: “I heard the CEO of Gibson Corporation has been married for a long time. So what does that make you...?” The streamer muted me, then instantly burst into tears. “The internet isn’t lawless. If you keep spreading rumors and calling me a mistress, I’m calling the police.” Her fans immediately swarmed me. “You’re probably the other woman yourself. That’s why your mind went there.” “I checked her profile. She’s some woman in her thirties. She’s obviously jealous because the streamer is young, pretty, and has a rich, powerful boyfriend who dotes on her.” “The account’s brand new. She’s obviously just a troll.” I tried to say more, only to realize I had already been kicked out of the livestream, and my account had been reported until I couldn’t even log back in. I stared at the proof of our marriage in the drawer for a long moment. Then I raised my hand and smacked my sleeping husband awake. “Exactly how many wives are you planning to have?”

In the fashion industry, I was known as the most mysterious designer. I worked hard to keep my identity from the public. As I stood at the top of business, I was invited to be the secret judge of the Innovating Design Competition’s final round. The organizer reserved a VIP seat for me in the middle of the front row and ensured that my presence would not be revealed. Just when I was about to sit down, a new male influencer pushed me aside and threw his hand bag onto my seat. “What are you looking at, bumpkin? How dare you show up at the VIP section dressed like a beggar? Where’s the security? Throw this person out!” I swallowed back my anger and replied coldly, “This seat was reserved for me.” The influencer laughed. “Yours? Do you know who I am? Ms. Reid spent eighty million dollars in sponsorship to get me to come here! Ms. Reid has the final say in this industry. Do you understand me?” I could only scoff at him. How bold of the Reid family! Did they really think they could make this kind of decision without consulting me?

Every year on the day the SAT results are released, I spend the entire day kneeling at my mother's grave. Three years ago, I fell for a phone scam and transferred all of the tuition money she had saved through years of diligently saving up to the scammers. Unable to take the sudden blow, Mom suffered a fatal heart attack. After she passed away, debt collectors began showing up at our door. Only then did I learn how much money she had borrowed just to keep us afloat. I have no choice but to give up my admission offer from Jaloria College. Working five jobs a day, I finally repay every last debt today. On the subway ride to the cemetery, I suddenly come across a streamer whose voice sounds strangely familiar. She blabs, "How do you teach kids the value of earning money? In my experience, extreme circumstances work the best. I deliberately created a scenario for my daughter where both her parents are supposedly dead, and she inherited a million dollars of my debt. "She's almost finished paying it off now. Tell me, can your kids do that?" Someone in the comments section questions her methods, saying it is too insane. She only grows more smug as she gloats, "So what? She's the one who was stupid enough to get scammed. I was just teaching her a lesson. As a reward for doing so well, I'll tell her the truth on her birthday five days from now. Any sensible child will understand their parents' good intentions." As she gestures animatedly, a crescent-shaped birthmark on her wrist comes into view. It's identical to my mom's. My hands tremble as I create a new account. I switch the profile picture to a man in a suit and change the background to luxury cars and mansions. Then, I send her an expensive virtual gift. While she excitedly thanks me, I leave a comment. "You're absolutely right, ma'am. If only I had a smart woman like you around to help me raise my children."

My adoptive parents' long-lost daughter came back. She's a wellness influencer. She eats from crystal bowls she "cleansed." Sleeps with a white noise machine. She will only ride in a custom, climate-controlled car. That's not all. She filled our family's Manhattan law firm with Himalayan salt lamps and energy crystals. The espresso in the conference room? Replaced with gluten-free, organic dandelion root tea. "The energy here is so murky," she'd say. "We need to cleanse the world with love and light!" My guilt-ridden parents gave her everything she wanted. Even my fiancé told me, "Ava, you stole twenty years of her Upper East Side life. Can't you cut her some slack?" The day of the final hearing for our firm's biggest case, the entire court had to wait for her to finish her "emotional cleansing meditation." The judge was furious. I stood up. Delivered a flawless closing argument. I won our client $500 million and secured the future of the firm. But at the party, she had a drunken breakdown, fell into the pool, and drowned. My parents and my fiancé blamed me for everything. "You always have to win, don't you? It was a simple, open-and-shut case. You couldn't even let her have that?" They had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. They destroyed my law license and my reputation. They even had me injected with a fatal overdose of sedatives. I died full of hate. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the day she was crying on her Instagram Live, begging for the case. This time, I walked straight into our rival's law firm. This "sure-win" case? I'm going to make you lose everything.