But the humiliation was far from over.

My mother’s illness couldn't wait.

I had to choose to compromise.

I faced the phone camera and uploaded a clarification video on YouTube.

I personally admitted that the marriage certificate was Photoshopped.

I said those proofs of academic fraud were maliciously forged by me.

Everything was because I was jealous of Olivia’s talent and achievements.

Because I loved Dante delusionally but couldn't have his heart.

That was why I did these crazy things.

The comment section under that clarification video is still filled with filth directed at me.

Most of it from bots hired by the Family and ignorant citizens.

"Girl, are you crazy for a man?! Faking a marriage certificate!"

"Psycho. Daring to slander a good person like Dr. Ricci as a mistress. Simply pathetic."

"This kind of woman should be banned! Slandering a doctor is insane!"

"Dr. Ricci saved so many people, what right do you have to hurt her?"

"Crowdfunding, I'll put in a hundred bucks. Who will go slap her in the face to wake her up?"

"I'll put in two hundred."

"Count me in! This vicious bitch needs to be taught a lesson!"

...

During that time, I was dazed, living like a walking corpse.

Every day I lived in immense humiliation and pain.

I could only hide in my apartment in Cambridge, staying by my mother’s hospital bed to escape.

Maybe because I looked so haggard, my mother sensed something was wrong, even though I kept her away from the internet.

She lay in the hospital bed, holding my hand with her weak one.

"Sophia, Mom is sorry."

"If it weren't for treating my illness, you wouldn't have to suffer so much grievance."

I shook my head, tears flowing uncontrollably.

"Mom, don't say that. It’s me who is useless."

My mother sighed and started talking about the past, about Dante and me.

Young love is always the purest.

Ten years ago, Dante was three years ahead of me.

Although he was of Italian descent, he hadn't been officially acknowledged by the Falcone family back then.

He was just an illegitimate child, a graduate student at MIT.

He saw me at a medical seminar.

I was just a freshman at Harvard, but I had already published a paper on cancer treatment at the conference.

Dante was attracted by my talent and started to pursue me actively.

He would help me organize experimental data.

He would save me a seat at Widener Library.

He would bring me Dunkin' Donuts and coffee when I stayed up late doing research.

Until that day, when I was targeted by some street thugs in Cambridge Common.

They were lowlifes from a local Irish gang, targeting female students.

To protect me, Dante was beaten until he was hospitalized at Mass General.

Three broken ribs, and a scar left on his face.

After that, we naturally got together.

At that time, Dante hadn't been taken back by the Family.

He was still that poor grad student working at Starbucks until late at night for tuition.

It was my mother who helped him, even funding him to finish his studies.

My mother lent him money so he could continue his advanced studies at MIT.

But now, my mother’s kindness from the past had become a sharp knife stabbing her.

She didn't know what her daughter was facing.

She didn't know that the child she once regarded as her own was now treating us in the cruelest way possible.

I looked at my mother’s increasingly haggard face, my heart cutting like a knife.

I thought, let it be.

At least, I still have my mom.

At least, I am not left with nothing.

As long as my mom is here, I have a reason to live.

But God loves to play tricks on the miserable.

He wouldn't even leave me this last bit of hope.