Chapter 4 - The Smear Campaign
The next three days were a blur of lawyer consultations, changing locks, and holding Lily close. Mark bombarded my phone with apologies, flowers, and promises, all of which went into the trash.
But Brenda was not content with just ruining my marriage. She was a woman who thrived on chaos, and she had decided I was her mortal enemy.
On Tuesday morning, my phone started buzzing relentlessly. Chloe was calling.
"Sarah, have you seen Facebook?" Chloe asked, her voice tight with anxiety.
"I haven't opened social media since the party. Why?"
"Brenda just posted in the local community group. The one with ten thousand members."
I pulled up the app on my laptop while keeping the phone to my ear. My stomach dropped. Brenda had posted a photo of her wrist, bruised purple and yellow. The caption was a masterclass in manipulation:
“I’m heartbroken and terrified. This weekend, I attended a coworker’s family gathering and was violently assaulted by his unstable, jealous wife. She attacked me simply for trying to help her clumsy daughter who fell into a table. I am seeking legal action, but please, if anyone sees Sarah Miller, be careful. She is deeply disturbed.”
Beneath the post, hundreds of comments were already piling up. People who didn't know me were calling for my arrest. Some were tagging the local police department.
"She used makeup," I breathed, staring at the bruising. "I slapped her forearm, Chloe. That bruise is on her wrist, and it looks like a thumbprint. She did that to herself."
"I know," Chloe said fiercely. "I commented and told everyone she’s lying, but her friends are dogpiling me. What do we do?"
"Let her dig her own grave," I said, a dangerous calm settling over me.
That afternoon, I received a call from Lily’s elementary school principal. Brenda had actually called the school, claiming she was a "concerned family friend" and reporting that I was having violent outbursts at home.
That was the line. She had crossed from being a desperate mistress to an active threat against my custody of my child.
I called David. "I need the raw footage from the party. Not just the clip. Everything. High resolution. And David? Do you still know that private investigator you used for your documentary?"
May you like
"I'll have his number to you in two minutes," David said.
Brenda wanted a public war. But she didn't realize I had the nuclear codes.
