Chapter 3: Court of Public Opinion

While balancing my workload, I hired a private investigator to look into Marcus. In my previous life, his sudden reappearance right after Julian's rooftop stunt had set off alarm bells. The findings came back quickly: Marcus's company was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. His pregnant new wife, Vanessa, was constantly at his throat, blaming him for letting me keep the house in our divorce settlement.

Back then, Marcus's infidelity had destroyed our marriage. Because I had stayed out of his business dealings, I was completely unaware that he had siphoned off most of our marital assets before the split. After years of marriage, I walked away with nothing but a house saddled with a heavy mortgage.

But life has a funny way of turning the tables. Thanks to recent urban development, the property was now sitting in a prime commercial district, and its value had skyrocketed. Meanwhile, Marcus's business had tanked to the point where he couldn't even make payroll. His once-arrogant swagger had crumbled into something entirely pathetic.

Desperate, he and Vanessa cooked up a scheme to take the house back. They quietly reached out to Julian, feeding him petty cash and empty promises to turn him against me. I secured all the evidence of their plotting, biding my time until the perfect moment to strike.

On the other end of the line, the phone fell dead silent. Just as I was about to hang up, Julian's voice cut through, cold and sharp. "Do you care so much about money that you'd actually risk my life?"

He was threatening another rooftop stunt.

I let the tears well up in my eyes, forcing my voice to tremble. "Julian, I've raised you all by myself on a tight budget, nothing like your father's wealth. But he hasn't paid a dime of child support in years, which is why I can't afford those graduation gifts. I'm going to contact a lawyer and demand every cent he owes us. I promise I'll do whatever it takes to get you what you want."

"No, why would you drag Dad into this?"

I hung up before he could finish his sentence. There was no time to waste—I needed to control the narrative before he did.

I immediately drafted a post on social media: "I desperately want to fulfill my son's graduation wish list, but my ex-husband disappeared years ago and never paid child support. Does anyone have advice? I'm terrified my son is going to feel inadequate or do something desperate."

I attached a screenshot of his wish list, making sure the $70,000 total was highlighted in bold.

The post blew up almost instantly.

"What is wrong with kids today? Who expects $70,000 in graduation gifts? Wait until he has to survive on a $3,000 monthly salary—then he'll see how the real world works."

"You just graduated high school, you didn't inherit a throne. What kind of grades make you think you can demand a whole suite of Nova gadgets from a single mother?"

"If he's this fragile, he's not going to make it. What's next, throwing a tantrum at a red light?"

"Is everyone missing the part about the dad? No support, no money, just vanished. I guarantee he started a new family and tossed this kid aside."

"Exactly. Let's dig a little deeper—he probably cheated, and that's why they divorced in the first place."

I pinned that last comment to the top of the thread.

The comment section erupted.

"Wait, she pinned it! So he definitely cheated? What absolute trash. Cheats on his wife and then dodges child support."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. This kid doesn't give a damn about his mother's struggles if he's demanding $70,000. Why isn't he harassing his deadbeat dad for the money?"

"I bet if the dad threw a few bucks his way, this kid would sell his mom out in a heartbeat."

The internet's collective intuition was terrifyingly sharp. Why had I been so blind to it in my past life?

Just like before, the story caught fire and went viral. But this time, the public outrage was focused on toxic materialism and entitled kids, rather than shaming a mother for being poor.

I was just about to close my laptop and head to bed when my phone rang. It was the police.

Julian was back on the rooftop, and this time, he was live-streaming his threat to jump.