Chapter 912:
She slipped into a different elevator and fled the building. First, she’d get away. Clearing her name would come after.
A car waited at the curb.
The driver, wearing a baseball cap low over his face, opened the passenger door from inside without a word. Vivian slid into the seat.
The car pulled away, weaving through side streets to avoid surveillance.
“What’s your plan now?” the man asked after a long silence. “Everything’s exposed. Are you leaving town?”
“We can’t,” Vivian replied, tapping furiously on her phone. “The exits will be locked down. But it’s not over yet. What I did wasn’t that bad. I’ll turn this around.”
The man hesitated, his jaw tightening as if holding back words.
Vivian hit send and leaned back.
She turned to the driver, her grip tight around her phone. “I’ve worked too hard to walk away empty-handed. I’ll get what I want no matter what.”
“And…” Her eyes glittered coldly as she whispered something into his ear.
Soon after, as search teams scoured the city for her, Vivian’s latest post exploded across social media.
“Let’s put the rumors to rest. The video released by user 567 is real. During my fight with Alexia, I accidentally elbowed Brandon’s arm, which caused Millie’s fall. That was my fault.”
She admitted the video’s authenticity. There were too many witnesses to deny it.
Besides, she feared user 567 would release more incriminating evidence if she continued to deny it.
Vivian added, “As for that so-called behavioral analysis? Ridiculous. Yes, I was watching Millie—but only because I like Brandon. It was an accident. How could I have planned something like that? I’m not that clever.” She framed it as an accident—nothing more than a scuffle.
𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁: gⳑ𝗮𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⧽ⅽ𝗼𝗺
With no more substantial evidence than the current video, she felt confident things would go her way. The post reignited public debate, with Johnny working tirelessly to defend her and smear Leif. Vivian’s narrative soon gained traction online.
At Crobert Hospital, in the intensive care unit, a woman sat by a bed, cradling her child while the latest gossip played faintly from her phone. The name “Vivian” echoed again and again.
On the bed, the man she had watched over for so long stirred.
His eyes blinked open and froze on the news flashing across the screen. Shock widened his gaze.
The woman turned, stunned. The phone slipped from her hand.
“Honey?” she gasped, tears spilling freely. “You’re awake!”
She fumbled for the call button, sobbing as doctors rushed in.
Elsewhere, in a darkened house, Vivian’s caregiver sat hunched in hiding.
When she’d been dragged into the chaos at Vivian Floral Design, the livestream proved she hadn’t attacked anyone. After being questioned at the police station, she’d been released.
But the fear never left. Now, she scrolled through her recorder that contained the original, verifiable audio files. She’d surrendered her phone to the crazed fan mob earlier, but kept the…
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