In just a few years, I had built a name in the new media world. People knew me; my face, my voice, my brand. Now, that recognition became my curse.
The first video opened with Shannon’s best friend lying on a bed, her eyes swollen from crying, staring blankly at the ceiling, despair etched into every line of her face.
Next to her was me, asleep, bare, exposed. Two naked bodies under the cruel light of a camera.
A familiar voice narrated over the footage, Shannon’s voice. She claimed I had installed hidden cameras to blackmail her best friend, drugged her drink and lured her into my home under the pretense of caring for my daughter.
Shannon said she’d released the footage with her best friend’s consent, in pursuit of “justice.” That word alone became the dagger. The internet erupted.
“Scum.”
“Beast.”
“Rot in prison.”
Each comment struck like a stone. Then came the second video, filmed in my office, showing me signing a house purchase agreement.
The caption read: [Divorced for years, ex-husband plots criminally, using the idea of gifting his wife a house to clear his name.]