ur sake. But now? Not a chance.”
“If I didn’t know the truth, maybe–just maybe I’d consider dropping the lawsuit for your
Ethan
n had humiliated me far too deeply. He deserved every ounce of what was coming.
I decided to strike where it would hurt him most: his obsession with being the “good guy.”
I rallied all his relatives, encouraging them to show up at his doorstep asking for money. At the same time, I flooded social media with posts highlighting Ethan’s so–called charitable nature.
Soon, people who had benefited from his generosity in the past started chiming in, confirming his Theroic” deeds.
Before long, his house was surrounded by a mob of strangers.
Some shouted, “Hey, good Samaritan! My kid’s tuition is overdue–how about helping us out?”
Others begged, “I’m dying of cancer! Can you lend me money for chemo?”
And then there were the m
he more desperate ones–those who had nothing left to lose
One man even tried to drag Ethan out of his house, snarling, “I just need one of your kidneys, man. If you’re such a stand–up guy, you wouldn’t say no, right?”
If the police hadn’t arrived in time, Ethan might’ve actually been taken away.
The whole ordeal terrified him so much that he fled the city, hoping to escape the chaos.
But those people? They were relentless. It was like they had GPS trackers on him–they always managed to find him, no matter where he
went..
By the time he came back to me, Ethan was a shell of himself, broken and desperate.
He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he begged for mercy.
“Fiona,” he sobbed, “you know I’ve always wanted to help people. Why are you doing this to me? There are so many people who need me–why are you turning me into a fugitive?”
<
Over the past few weeks, I’d learned the truth about Ethan’s so–called generosity.
He didn’t help people out of the goodness of his heart. He helped people who could give him something in return–people who would praise him, spread his reputation, and feed his ego.
But now? There was no praise, no admiration. Only chaos.
Ethan sat there, defeated, unable to respond.
I didn’t waste any more words on him. Instead, I tossed a document onto the table in front of him.
“Here’s the deal,” I said, my tone icy. “Pay back the money you tricked my parents into giving you, or I’ll make sure these people keep coming Next time, it won’t just be your house–they’ll show up at your workplace too.”
包
As I spoke, I rested a hand on my stomach, my fingers brushing against the fabric of my dress.
Then, I smiled–a soft, maternal smile that only deepened the edge in my voice.
“Besides, I’ve got time to play I’m on maternity leave, after all.
