The Jersey Chaser's Endgame

A laugh, sharp and bitter, escaped my lips when he declared we weren't in the same league.

"Then what about what I did for you five years ago?"

"It was just five million dollars! If you want it, I can pay you back tenfold," Gordon said. He stood up, looking down at me with a face full of disdain. Then he scoffed and turned to leave.

I scrambled to stop him, but he impatiently shoved me hard against the wall.

"Enough, Natalie! Stop clinging to me like something I scraped off my shoe. You make me sick!"

Gordon kicked away a nearby decorative vase, cursed, and left without a backward glance.

I slid down the wall, slumping onto the carpet as I pressed my tongue hard against the inside of my cheek. My anger was a white-hot burn.

I immediately thought of a thousand ways to make this scumbag pay. No matter what, I was going to destroy him completely.

Mom was right. Handsome men are all liars. Just assholes to the core.

The next day, the paparazzi somehow got photos of me going to his mansion in the middle of the night and leaving in a disheveled state moments later. They even got a few close-ups of me slumped on the carpet.

I became a trending topic on X again. This time, it wasn't just Gordon and Savannah's fans; even the general public was chiming in with vicious comments about me.

"My god, is this woman a parasite who can't live without him? She even knelt down to beg him! How pathetic!"

"Not a fan, but she makes me sick. Doesn't she get what a breakup means? Gross."

Soon, my personal information and a list of my clients were plastered all over the internet. I started receiving all sorts of malicious mail—bloody razor blades, dead rats, and even obscene images with my face photoshopped onto them.

Someone even found a photo of me talking and clinking glasses with a Silicon Valley investor. There was nothing inappropriate in the picture.

However, people started twisting the truth, claiming I was shamelessly providing sexual services to multiple Silicon Valley tycoons on the side.

I was trending for so long, the platform should have just crowned me the "Queen of Trending Topics." Everyone was talking about me, and the comment sections of all related posts were filled with false accusations from keyboard warriors.

"With so many tycoon clients, she must have made a fortune! Haha! So glad Gordon broke up with her!"

"How shameless! I wonder what her nightly rate is. No wonder she gets so many gigs! If it were me, I'd be a CEO by now! Hahaha!"

Even the small companies I worked with saw their stock prices take a severe hit. Thousands of fans boycotted their products. Some crazy fans even tried to report me to the IRS, accusing me of tax evasion.

It's the classic playbook for destroying a woman: spread vicious lies, turn the public against her, and cyberbully her into self-destruction.

However, I am not one to stay silent. I will not let those who spread lies about me get away with it. I will hold them legally accountable and make them pay for every last keystroke.