Confess, Bitch

I stood on stage, a celebrated philanthropist.

Suddenly, a boy I’d funded for years stormed toward me, screaming my name.

He called me a homewrecker. The monster who drove his mother to her grave.

His leverage? A live video of my daughter, tied up and terrified.

To save my child, I knelt before the world, confessing to crimes I never committed.

When it was over, I turned to my husband for help.

He looked at the cameras, his eyes full of fake tears.

"She coerced me," he cried to the world. "I was her victim all along."

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1

I stepped onto the stage, the cool metal of the microphone a grounding weight in my palm.

The moment I was about to speak, the massive LED screen behind me blazed to life.

Before I could utter a single syllable, an uproar swept through the auditorium.

I scanned the students below, their eyes filled with confusion and scrutiny, like countless spotlights intent on picking me apart.

A university trustee in the front row shot to his feet, pointing at the screen behind me and demanding sharply, "What the hell is this?"

Ice flooded my veins, and I slowly turned around.

The screen was supposed to be displaying the VanceTech company logo and the grand blueprint for the new science wing. Now, it was replaced by a line of bold, blood-red capital letters, each word a scream:

“HOMESWRECKER & FRAUD”

Before anyone could react, a young figure rushed from the crowd onto the stage. He pointed at me, his face twisted in rage.

"It was her!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with emotion. "This woman destroyed my family and drove my mother to her death! What right does a fraud like her have to stand up here and talk about philanthropy?"

I recognized him immediately. Ethan Basset. The top student at this prestigious university—and the boy my scholarship had been supporting for years.

"Ethan?" I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

The boy let out a cold sneer, his voice laced with venom. "I'd know you even from your ashes."

He snatched the mouse from the console and projected a family photo onto the enormous screen.

In the photo, a handsome man had his arm around a woman with a gentle smile. A young boy stood beside them.

I knew that man all too well. It was my husband, Julian Basset.

But the bride—it wasn't me. It was a strange woman I had never seen before. Her face bore a striking resemblance to the furious Ethan beside her.

My heart hammered against my ribs. The date on the photo… it showed that Julian was still married to this woman after he and I had started dating.

The discovery hit me like a punch to the gut.

All these years… he’d deceived me? Lived a double life? Played me for a fool?

A wave of nausea rose in my throat.

Ethan’s accusations continued, his voice echoing throughout the hall.

"You knew my father had a family, but you used your money and status to seduce him! My mother fell into a deep depression because of it and eventually died in agony!"

Then, he flung his hand out, his finger pointed straight at me, and in front of the entire audience and countless media cameras, he roared out his final words.

"And you—you are the one who killed my mother!"