Chapter 3

I'm a teacher at a private high school in New York, a job I've always been proud of.

After the breakup, I tried my best to pull myself together and go to work.

Until that day, when a flashy Bugatti Veyron drove straight onto the school playground.

It was break time, with thousands of teachers and students across the school all present.

David got out of the car with his arm around Emily, followed by several bodyguards carrying cameras.

I was at the front of the line managing student discipline when I saw them, and my heart skipped a beat.

Emily was dressed like a princess today, carrying a transparent plastic bag in her hand.

They walked straight up to me.

In front of the principal, my colleagues, and countless underage students, Emily smiled and dumped the contents of that bag at my feet.

It was a black lace thong and several pink sex toys.

The crowd immediately erupted in discussion.

The students' whispers and my colleagues' shocked, contemptuous stares felt like countless needles piercing my body.

"Ms. Brown," Emily held a megaphone, her voice sweet but each word cutting deep, "You left way too many things at David's place, especially these intimate items. David asked me to bring them to you. He said you're a sex addict who can't live without men, and he's worried you might go after male students at school."

"That's a lie!" I was shaking with anger and rushed forward to grab the megaphone.

But David stepped out, blocking Emily, and shoved me away.

He was strong, and wearing high heels, I fell straight onto that pile of obscene objects.

He looked down at me with cold eyes, "Bella, if you did it, don't be afraid of people knowing. Emily was kind enough to bring you your things—why are you freaking out?"

"David!" tears streamed down my face, "This is a school! I'm a teacher! Do you have to destroy me?"

David frowned, as if I was making a big deal out of nothing, "It's just a teaching job. If you lose it, you lose it. Worst case, I'll support you—no wait, I only support Emily now."

He looked down at Emily adoringly, "Have you let off enough steam? Let's go eat."

Emily looked down at me triumphantly, "Let's go, honey."

They left, but left me with a huge mess to clean up.

The principal walked over with a dark expression, pointing at the gate, "Ms. Brown, your private life has seriously damaged the school's reputation. You're fired. Right now, immediately, get out of this school!"

But that wasn't the end.

That evening, a video titled #BeautifulTeacherAtElitePrivateHighSchoolCantControlHerDesiresWifeConfrontsMistressOnSite shot to the top of trending topics.

The video had been maliciously edited, keeping only Emily's words and the footage of me falling onto the sex toys.

The comment section was filled with vile insults.

[This kind of slut gets to be a teacher? Corrupting students!]

[I heard she was that rich guy's plaything, got dumped when she tried to climb the ladder.]

[Anyone have her contact info? Let us have a try too.]

My phone was blown up with harassing calls and messages.

Someone threw paint on my door and mailed me dead rats.

I hid in my dark rental apartment, on the verge of a mental breakdown.

With trembling hands, I dialed David's number.