Chapter 5: Viral Moment
Two days later, Derek showed up at my hotel unannounced.
He'd somehow sweet-talked the receptionist into giving him my room number.
When I opened the door, he pushed past me without waiting for an invitation.
"Sophia, this has gone far enough." He turned around, arms crossed. "Fire your lawyer. Come home. I'll forgive the whole neighbor thing."
"YOU'LL forgive ME?" I almost choked.
"I'm being generous here." He stepped closer, lowering his voice to that pseudo-gentle tone he used when he wanted compliance. "Look, I messed up with Amber. But we have history. Six years. You're going to throw all that away?"
"You threw it away," I said flatly. "Eight months ago."
His mask slipped. "Fine. You want to play hardball? Let me remind you—the apartment is in my name. The car is in my name. You've got nothing, Sophia. You'll walk away with NOTHING."
"$6,000 deposited. Attractiveness +2%."
I let the warmth spread through me—my skin literally tingled as it improved.
Derek paused, squinting. "Are you... getting Botox or something? Your face looks different."
"Better, you mean."
"Don't flatter yourself." But his eyes lingered too long on my lips, my jawline, my collarbones.
I opened the door wide. "Leave."
"I'm not done—"
"Leave, or I call security. And then I call my lawyer to add harassment to the filing."
He left—but not before pulling out his phone in the hallway. "You're going to regret this, Sophia. Everyone's going to know what kind of woman you really are."
That night, Derek posted on social media.
A long, dramatic paragraph painting himself as the victim. How his wife had "abandoned the marriage," was "seen with another man," and was "making false accusations to steal his assets."
Amber shared it, adding her own spin: "Some women can't handle that their husbands upgraded. Jealousy is ugly."
Within hours, it had hundreds of comments. People I thought were my friends—our mutual circle—piling on.
"Always knew she was cold."
"Derek deserves better."
"She's probably after the neighbor's money."
My phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Notifications poured in like a flood.
And so did the system alerts.
"Public humiliation event detected. Viral threshold reached: 500+ viewers engaging with defamatory content."
"$85,000 deposited."
"Attractiveness +12%. Current rating: 9.1."
I dropped my phone.
Eighty-five THOUSAND dollars?
I ran to the mirror. The woman staring back at me was... otherworldly. Supermodel-tier bone structure. Skin that literally seemed to glow from within. A body that curved in all the right places.
I was a solid 9.1.
Holy shit.
My phone rang. Diana.
"Sophia, have you seen Derek's post?"
"Yeah."
"Don't respond. Don't say a single word publicly. I'm screenshotting everything. This is defamation, and it just handed us a massive advantage in court." She paused. "Also... are you okay?"
I looked at my bank balance. $143,000.
"I'm perfect," I said. "Let him keep talking."
The next morning, I walked through the hotel lobby and every single head turned.
Men. Women. The concierge. The bellboy. A businessman nearly walked into a pillar.
I felt invincible.
And then I ran straight into the last person I expected—my mother.
He'd somehow sweet-talked the receptionist into giving him my room number.
When I opened the door, he pushed past me without waiting for an invitation.
"Sophia, this has gone far enough." He turned around, arms crossed. "Fire your lawyer. Come home. I'll forgive the whole neighbor thing."
"YOU'LL forgive ME?" I almost choked.
"I'm being generous here." He stepped closer, lowering his voice to that pseudo-gentle tone he used when he wanted compliance. "Look, I messed up with Amber. But we have history. Six years. You're going to throw all that away?"
"You threw it away," I said flatly. "Eight months ago."
His mask slipped. "Fine. You want to play hardball? Let me remind you—the apartment is in my name. The car is in my name. You've got nothing, Sophia. You'll walk away with NOTHING."
"$6,000 deposited. Attractiveness +2%."
I let the warmth spread through me—my skin literally tingled as it improved.
Derek paused, squinting. "Are you... getting Botox or something? Your face looks different."
"Better, you mean."
"Don't flatter yourself." But his eyes lingered too long on my lips, my jawline, my collarbones.
I opened the door wide. "Leave."
"I'm not done—"
"Leave, or I call security. And then I call my lawyer to add harassment to the filing."
He left—but not before pulling out his phone in the hallway. "You're going to regret this, Sophia. Everyone's going to know what kind of woman you really are."
That night, Derek posted on social media.
A long, dramatic paragraph painting himself as the victim. How his wife had "abandoned the marriage," was "seen with another man," and was "making false accusations to steal his assets."
Amber shared it, adding her own spin: "Some women can't handle that their husbands upgraded. Jealousy is ugly."
Within hours, it had hundreds of comments. People I thought were my friends—our mutual circle—piling on.
"Always knew she was cold."
"Derek deserves better."
"She's probably after the neighbor's money."
My phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Notifications poured in like a flood.
And so did the system alerts.
"Public humiliation event detected. Viral threshold reached: 500+ viewers engaging with defamatory content."
"$85,000 deposited."
"Attractiveness +12%. Current rating: 9.1."
I dropped my phone.
Eighty-five THOUSAND dollars?
I ran to the mirror. The woman staring back at me was... otherworldly. Supermodel-tier bone structure. Skin that literally seemed to glow from within. A body that curved in all the right places.
I was a solid 9.1.
Holy shit.
My phone rang. Diana.
"Sophia, have you seen Derek's post?"
"Yeah."
"Don't respond. Don't say a single word publicly. I'm screenshotting everything. This is defamation, and it just handed us a massive advantage in court." She paused. "Also... are you okay?"
I looked at my bank balance. $143,000.
"I'm perfect," I said. "Let him keep talking."
The next morning, I walked through the hotel lobby and every single head turned.
Men. Women. The concierge. The bellboy. A businessman nearly walked into a pillar.
I felt invincible.
And then I ran straight into the last person I expected—my mother.