Chapter 4

Hot post on the school forum:

"Shocking! Girl refuses to crowdfund, reports Olivia's plastic surgery hospital, even writes to school authorities slandering her father as a quack doctor"

The post included a photo of my silhouette making a phone call in the hospital corridor late at night.

There was also a secretly taken photo of me queuing in the cafeteria, with large red text:

[This is Rachel Chen. Jealous that everyone likes Olivia, she reported her family's hospital just because Olivia is prettier than her.]

The post had thousands of comments.

[Wow, how vicious can she be?]

[Can't get surgery herself so she wants to ruin someone else's face? Does she even qualify as human?]

[What did Olivia ever do to her? This girl must be a psycho!]

By noon, as I was walking into the teaching building, I heard people scrolling through their phones and pointing at me:

"Is she the one who reported the Shaw family hospital?"

"I bet she's mentally ill. If Olivia's face is considered ugly, she might as well apply for a job at a haunted house."

"Write a sob story, make a fuss, and now she wants to play the victim of public opinion, huh?"

I bit my lip and rushed into the classroom. As soon as I sat down, our homeroom teacher came in with several printed papers in her hand.

"Rachel Chen, come to the office."

I stood up, my legs shaking.

In the office, the dean of students had a grim expression: "Rachel Chen, your unauthorized report of Shaw Hospital has caused extremely negative impact on the school's image. Now parents and outside media are demanding an explanation from the school."

The homeroom teacher also advised: "We're not saying you can't defend your rights, but doing it this way will only make the whole class resent you."

I looked up: "Weren't they already resenting me?"

The dean's eyes turned cold: "Olivia just gave us the screenshot of the threatening message you sent her father last night. Do you want to take a look yourself?"

I took it. The photo indeed showed a message I supposedly sent to the Shaw Hospital's official account from a burner account:

"Don't think you can keep this under wraps forever. I still remember how you ruined my face back then."

"No matter how rich your dad is, I'll make sure he's exposed to the light of day."

At the bottom of the message was a red box noting: "Verbal threats, malicious false reporting."

My mind exploded.

I never sent these words.

My report was through the hotline, through official channels. I never privately messaged them.

This burner account wasn't mine!

I was about to defend myself when the dean coldly handed me another paper: "Take a look at this."

I took it and saw it was a joint letter.

"We, the classmates of Rachel Chen, strongly condemn Rachel Chen for long-term spreading of false rumors about Olivia and her family both inside and outside the class, seriously disrupting class unity, and even attempting to smear the plastic surgery hospital through online means. We believe her behavior is extremely vicious and implore the school to take disciplinary action."

At the bottom, over thirty names were densely packed, each signature clear and neat.

I felt like I had fallen into an ice pit.

I couldn't even see the words clearly anymore.

The dean spoke coldly: "You must write an explanation now, publicly apologize to your classmates, and promise not to make malicious comments again."

I looked up, my eyes red, and asked hoarsely: "What if I don't apologize?"

He raised his head: "Then please cooperate with the school disciplinary process. We will also suggest you take a leave of absence to reflect at home for a while."

I stood up, clenching my fists, and said word by word:

"I will never apologize for something I didn't do."

"You can punish me, even expel me. But let me tell you this"

"Olivia is not the good person you think she is. Her father's hospital has problems, and so does she. You can cover it up for now, but you can't hide it forever."

I turned and walked out of the office.

Behind me came the sound of the dean angrily slamming his desk.

But I wasn't afraid anymore.

I opened my phone and dialed a number.

It was the young assistant who had been responsible for filming pre-op videos at the plastic surgery hospital that year.

I still had her phone number, and I still had the voice message she sent me when she secretly shared "screenshots of the surgical process" with me.

Now, it was time to bring them out.