My Fiancée’s Secretary Framed Me With a Deepfake,Now I’ll Ruin Them All

"Mr. Fox! Mr. Fox, save me! I think he's trying to kill me!"

I ignored his wailing completely, dragging him toward the exit.

Dora rushed over and pried at my grip on Guy's arm.

When I wouldn't let go, she wound back and slapped me across the face.

Crack.

The sound cut through the banquet hall like a gunshot. The room fell silent.

Half my face went numb, then burned—like a thousand needles stabbing at once. My right ear rang with a high-pitched whine.

Dora seemed frozen too, staring at her own hand as if it belonged to someone else.

"Ha."

I licked the blood from the corner of my mouth and let out a hollow laugh, stepping closer to her.

Guy immediately threw himself between us like a hen guarding her chick, arms spread wide in what he clearly imagined was a heroic stance.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "Even if Ms. Fox hit you, you deserved it! You're the one who couldn't keep it in your pants—you betrayed her first!"

I looked at his self-righteous display.

I was so tired. Bone-deep exhausted.

"You keep claiming I filmed obscene videos overseas," I said evenly. "Where's your proof?"

"Young man, you think you can just flap your lips and spread whatever lies you want?"

Murmurs rippled through the guests.

"He has a point—you can't just take one person's word for something like this."

Guy bit his lip, doing his best impression of a wronged martyr standing tall against injustice.

"Fine. You asked for this."

He pulled out his phone and connected it to the venue's main screen.

The photo of Dora and me—our engagement portrait, the two of us smiling—vanished. In its place, a video began to play.

A man and a foreign woman, tangled together. The man's face was slack with pleasure, wearing a greasy, leering grin.

And that face—displayed in perfect clarity for everyone to see—was mine.

The banquet hall erupted.

Parents covered their children's eyes.

Others leaned forward, gawking.

Some pulled out their phones to record.

"Holy shit! He's really going at it!"

"Damn, look at those moves—"

"Who would've guessed? Looks so refined and bookish, but underneath? Total sleaze."

"'Studying medicine abroad'—yeah right. Wonder how many rich women's beds he climbed into over there."

"That's wild. Think he'd actually settle down with just Ms. Fox after marriage?"

The comments grew filthier by the second.

Dora's face had gone a sickly green—the exact shade of the blanched vegetables on the banquet table.

Greg Fox looked like he might collapse. He grabbed my lapel to steady himself, then slammed his fist into my chest.

"I pitied you! Your parents died young, and I treated you like my own son! How could you be this shameless? How could you do this to my daughter?"

Guy clutched at Dora's sleeve, sniffling pathetically, his face arranged in an expression of pure noble sacrifice.

"Ms. Fox, I just—I couldn't stand watching you get deceived by this... this filthy man who's slept with God knows how many people!"

"You've been so good to me. Even if you fire me after this, I'll accept it. I had to tell you the truth."

I folded my arms and let a cold smirk curl my lips.

"Funny. I don't think anyone knows that particular feeling better than you do."

Guy flinched like I'd struck him. His eyes darted away, and he shrank back behind Dora.

That was the final straw for her. Humiliation and rage collided, and she exploded.

She pulled Guy protectively behind her, her eyes blazing red as she glared at me.

"David! How much longer are you going to humiliate him?"