Framed by My Fiancée and Her Assistant

"But there’s nothing wrong with love. We will fight to the end. For this true love, we have no regrets!"

The livestream’s comment section was a battlefield — overrun by trolls and clueless onlookers. The screen overflowed with insults hurled at me, mixed with waves of sympathy and support for the so-called “star-crossed couple.”

“Ethan, die!”

“Cole’s bankruptcy can’t come soon enough!”

“I feel bad for Selena and Mr. Grant!”

Any voice of reason drowned instantly under a flood of blind emotion.

This carefully planned public opinion attack worked like a charm. After a steep fall in early trading, the Hart Group’s stock price suddenly rebounded. Speculative investors poured in, feeding off sympathy and the company’s image as one that “dares to defy corporate tyranny.” Their stock soared, defying market trends.

Meanwhile, the Cole Group’s stock price plunged—crashing under a torrent of slander, shaken investor confidence, and fears of policy risk.

I stared at the two opposing graphs on my computer screen.

One line shot upward—Hart Group, soaring with false glory.

The other plummeted—Cole Group, collapsing into the red.

The cold glow of the monitor reflected on my face, sharpening my features as a faint, mocking smile curved my lips.

Go ahead. Keep pushing.

Did they really believe such cheap tricks could shake the foundation of the Cole family?

Did they think a few online insults and fabricated sympathy could bring me down?

How naive.

They’ve mistaken the business world for a stage play — thinking emotions can rewrite the rules.

Just then, as Cole Group’s stock hit its lower limit, my phone rang. Lucas. Perfect timing.

He dropped the pretense this time. His voice oozed arrogance and satisfaction.

“Ethan, do you see the situation now?”

“Since you’ve been wagging your tail for Selena these past two years, I’ll be generous and give you two options.”

“First, pay five billion dollar as a breakup fee and part ways peacefully.”

“Second, watch your family go bankrupt and rot in debt.”

I walked to the window, phone still in hand, my voice steady and cold.

“I choose the third option.”

“I’ll send you and the Hart family to hell together.”

He choked for a moment before snapping, his anger barely restrained.

“You— you’re insane!”

I didn’t bother listening.

The call ended with a quiet click.

I turned off my phone.

For two days, Cole Group’s shares stagnated. The online storm raged on, each headline sharper than the last. Within the company, tension rippled through every corridor; the board whispered of collapse.

Yet I remained composed. Meetings continued. Documents were reviewed. Plans were executed.

On the morning of the third day, when our losses topped one hundred billion dollar, I lifted my encrypted phone and sent a single message:

“You can begin now.”