Chapter 45

Charlie Zhou's Weibo post detonated like a depth charge, instantly igniting the entire internet.

Nine-grid photos, bank transfer records, and chat screenshots—the evidence was irrefutable.

Award-winning screenwriter Ethan Smith personally reposted with a comment: "Lucy White is the most dedicated actress I've ever worked with. Some people should know their limits."

The comment section exploded.

"Holy crap! Richard Brown is next-level shameless. Three years with Lucy, and this is how he treats her?"

"Sisters, check the third photo! Richard and Lily Green were secretly meeting at a hotel last year!"

"Ugh! So they've been sneaking around all this time, pretending to be mentor and protégé?"

"Lucy got played hard—milked for three years and then framed."

"Richard Brown, get out of the entertainment industry!"

The top three trending hashtags were dominated:

#RichardBrownScum

#SorryLucyWhite

#LilyGreenHomewrecker

Richard's hands trembled as he gripped his phone.

He had deleted all this evidence—how did it resurface?

The worst was the hotel photo, timestamped on Lucy's birthday.

Ding. A notification chimed—his special alert.

Lily messaged him: "What do we do? My fans are demanding answers about the photo."

Sweat beaded on Richard's forehead. If Michael Johnson found out...

His phone vibrated violently. The caller ID flashed: "Mr. Johnson."

His fingers slipped, and the phone clattered to the floor.

Meanwhile, at a Michelin three-star restaurant...

Lily bit her straw, eyes glistening. "Liam... I'm so scared..."

Liam Parker seized her wrist. "Don’t worry. I’ll have the hashtag buried."

He dialed a number. "Suppress #LilyGreenHomewrecker. Now."

A pause. "What do you mean you can’t?"

Lily's tears splattered onto the napkin.

Liam's expression darkened. "Find out who this Charlie Zhou really is."

The newly served steak sizzled on the plate—a perfect mirror to the internet’s raging fury.

Richard shakily picked up his phone. Twenty-three missed calls.

A new notification popped up:

"Mr. Johnson: Conference room. 9 AM tomorrow."

Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, neon lights painted the city. For the first time, Richard wondered if this would be his last night seeing them.