Chapter 3

Charlotte POV

After that live broadcast, I became the despised wealthy madwoman of the entire internet.

I didn't dare look at my phone, didn't even dare miss a single call from the hospital.

I could only shut myself in my rental apartment in a daze.

That villa where Ethan and I had lived for five years—I could never go back.

It was now filled with Sophie's presence. Even the lilies I'd planted were dug up and replaced with her favorite tulips.

I thought hiding away would bring me peace.

But I underestimated human malice and the madness of Sophie's die-hard fans.

In just one day, my address, phone number, and even the hospital room number where Grandma stayed were all dug up by Sophie's fans.

On the third morning, I was just preparing to cook and take food to the hospital.

The moment I opened the door, a bucket of stinking red paint splashed toward me.

Though I instinctively dodged, I was still splattered with quite a bit.

Outside the door, several young girls wearing masks were frantically taking photos of me with their phones, cursing:

"It's her! That crazy woman who slandered Sophie!"

"Looking so shabby, she dares to bully our goddess?"

"Sisters, teach her a lesson and wake her up!"

Flashlights went crazy, blinding me.

Before I could explain, someone pushed me.

I fell miserably onto the paint-covered ground, my knees hitting the cement floor. The pain was excruciating.

But I couldn't care about the pain.

I desperately protected the thermos in my arms—the food I'd made for Grandma was still hot.

"What are you doing? This is illegal!"

I screamed.

A mocking laugh came from the crowd:

"Oh, you know about the law? Why didn't you think about the law when you were slandering people online?"

"We're punishing you!"

In the chaos, someone kicked over the thermos.

I watched the mess on the ground, and tears finally couldn't help falling.

That was the last little thing I could do for Grandma, and they destroyed it.

I struggled to get up, to rush out.

The hospital hadn't called me yet. I had to go check on Grandma.

But this group of people surrounded me like an iron barrel, not leaving me any gap.

Just as I was despairing, my phone suddenly rang.

It was the emergency room at the hospital.

The ringtone sounded weak yet piercing amid the noisy cursing.

I frantically pushed away the person in front of me and answered with trembling hands.

"Ms. Harper! Come quickly! The patient's condition has deteriorated!"

"Someone splashed paint in the hospital room. Your grandmother was frightened and is being resuscitated now!"

In that instant, my world collapsed.

Splashing paint in a hospital room?

How dare they?!

That was the ICU! A place that saves lives!

I don't know where I found the strength. I pushed away a girl blocking me and rushed out of the crowd desperately.

Behind me came the girls' screams and curses:

"The crazy woman is hitting people! Call the police!"

I couldn't hear anymore.

My mind was filled only with the doctor's words.

I frantically tried to hail a car on the roadside.

But not a single car was willing to stop for a madwoman covered in red paint.

In desperation, I dialed Ethan's number.

This was my last hope.

He grew up under Grandma's care. Grandma once sold her only jewelry to help him with tuition.

He couldn't ignore this.

Even for old times' sake, he absolutely wouldn't stand by and watch someone die.

Finally, the call connected.

Just as I was about to cry out for help, a woman's voice came through:

"Ms. Harper?"

"What bad timing. Ethan is taking a shower."

"You know, last night's celebration was exhausting. He just went to sleep."

"Whatever it is, let's talk tomorrow."

The call ended.

I stood on the street holding my phone.

Heavy rain poured down, washing away the paint on my body but unable to wash away the bone-deep cold in my heart.