Chapter 237

Emily’s POV

In the living room of the Nelson Family Mansion, the sun was bright, and the air was filled with a relaxed atmosphere as if victory were at hand.

I was curled up on the sofa, my fingertips sliding fast over the phone screen, flipping through the comments online, and the corners of my mouth couldn't stop rising.

"Hazel, look at this!" I excitedly pushed the phone to Hazel’s eyes. "Netizens are saying Vivian is just jealous of you, that’s why she deliberately made all this trouble; she really deserves it!"

Hazel sat on the other end of the sofa, holding a cup of coffee, a faint, winning smile on her lips. Seeing her calm and composed look, the secret pleasure in my heart grew even stronger. That woman, Vivian, would absolutely not be able to turn this around this time.

I was in a good mood, scrolled down a few more pages, and couldn't help but laugh out loud: "This one is even better—they’re cursing Vivian, saying she’s guilty, doesn't even dare to show her face, and OmniFront Labs is about to go bankrupt!"

However, just as I was about to click on the next comment, my fingertips froze as if touched by electricity.

That photo unfolded before my eyes, like some kind of vicious curse. The smile on my face froze instantly, and I fell into an ice cellar, an unspeakable horror rushing from the soles of my feet to the top of my skull.

"What’s wrong? Making such a fuss." Helen frowned, muttering with dissatisfaction.

I couldn't answer; my throat felt blocked. I tremblingly handed the phone directly to Hazel, the light on the screen making my face look pale.

It was a photo from a wedding scene.

In the picture, Vivian was wearing a holy white wedding dress, affectionately holding a man’s arm. They stood under a flower arch; it was Dylan. They looked so well-matched, so dazzling that I could barely open my eyes.

And I clearly saw in the corner of the photo, Hazel standing in a bridesmaid dress. Her expression wasn't too exaggerated, but the forced stiffness of her smile at this moment seemed so bizarre and ironic.

Under the photo was only one line, like a sharp knife, fiercely stabbing into our disguise: [So, some people were a homewrecker from the very beginning.]

I heard the hand Hazel was holding the coffee cup with shake violently, a 'clatter' sound, and hot coffee splashed out, directly burning the back of her hand red. But she seemed completely unaware of the pain, just staring dead at the photo, her whole body frozen in place, even her breathing becoming rapid.

I opened my mouth, my brain a blank. Helen leaned over and took a glance, looking like she had been cast with a freeze spell, frozen in place without moving.

Hazel put down the coffee cup, her movements as slow as if all her strength had been drained. She stood up and walked toward the stairs step by step, her back heavy and desperate. With the 'bang' of the door closing, everything fell into a deathly silence.

I tremblingly held the phone, lowered my head, and refreshed the comment section again—at this moment, it had completely exploded.

[My God, so Hazel is the homewrecker!]

[Vivian and Dylan were married? Then what is Hazel’s position? A third party destroying someone else’s marriage?]

[Some people even had the nerve to say Vivian was jealous of her, that’s the biggest joke of the century.]

[A homewrecker is a homewrecker, acting innocent.]

The comments were like a breached flood, surging in, each one hitting us like a slap in the face.

My hand holding the phone began to shake violently. It’s over, completely over.

---

Vivian’s POV

Ever since that wedding photo of Dylan and me spread like wildfire, the official account of OmniFront Labs was almost overwhelmed. The sound waves of discussion in private messages and comment sections were higher than one another.

Quinn walked into my office with a tablet, a rare hint of helplessness on her face.

"Ms. Wilson, look at these comments. They are all asking about your relationship with Mr. Hudson."

She lowered her voice and quickly read a few: "'When did you guys get married?', 'Is Hazel really inserting herself?', 'Do you have kids?' Some even asked if you divorced because of Hazel. Should we respond?"

I was burying my head in auditing the resumes for the AI project, and upon hearing this, I didn't even look up, my pen tip drawing a sharp arc on the paper: "Just tell the truth."

Quinn was stunned: "...Tell the truth?"

I put down the resume in my hand and looked up at her, my expression calm without a ripple: "Dylan and I divorced long ago; that is a fact. Send out the divorce decree; don't explain a single word more than that."

Quinn nodded and turned to handle it.

That afternoon, the official announcement from OmniFront Labs was issued, the content extremely simple and clear:

[Ms. Vivian and Mr. Dylan officially divorced a few months ago by court order. Attached: A scanned copy of the divorce decree. Thank you for everyone’s attention and support, please look at this rationally and do not believe or spread rumors.]

Key private information in the attachment was covered, but the court’s official seal and date were clearly visible. As for whether Hazel was a third party, the announcement didn't mention a word.

Public opinion exploded instantly. Some stood with me, and some besieged Hazel in the comment section for being a "homewrecker" who destroyed a family. Many people sighed that I had kept such a low profile for these years, surprisingly bearing all this alone.

---

Hazel’s POV

In the living room of the Nelson Family Mansion, I looked at that announcement, feeling like I had fallen into an ice cellar.

My phone was clutched tightly in my palm by me, my nails almost sinking into my palm from the effort, the blood color on my face fading bit by bit.

Beside me, Emily was cursing: "Hazel, what does Vivian mean? Why didn't she clarify for you? By issuing this announcement, isn't she indirectly admitting that you are the one who inserted yourself?"

Helen was also spinning around in a fluster on the side: "What should we do! The cursing outside is deafening, all directed at you. Think of a way, hurry and find Dylan, have him stand out and clear your name!"

I took a deep breath, forced down the panic in my heart, and dialed Dylan’s number.

The ringtone rang for a long time, always indicating that the other party was on a call.

I tried again, but it was still a busy signal.

I stood up abruptly, grabbed my bag, and walked out: "I’m going to the company to find him."