Chapter 105 Gold Digger Exposed
JOAN COLE’S POV
The moment I opened the front door to my house, my phone beeped.
At first, I thought it was Lena checking on me after I texted her about the breakup, but when I checked the screen it was Theo.
Before picking up the call, I walked in and made sure I locked the door behind me.
“Hello brother,” I said as I swiped the pick button.
“You broke up with Uncle Dave? It’s all over Pixtagram, sis.”
“What! How!” I muttered and hung up immediately.
I hurriedly opened the Pixtagram app and the first thing I saw at the top of my feed made my blood run cold.
It was a voice recording.
The thumbnail was a clear picture of me and the caption read:
“Listen to this snake. She used Dave Wilton for his money and the car he bought her, then dumped him because she’s still obsessed with her ex #Gold digger exposed.”
“Oh… my… God,” I stuttered.
My hands trembled as I pressed play and my own voice came through the speaker, clear and heartbreakingly embarrassing.
It started the moment I told Dave he was a good man, and it ended when Dave told me he understood me, but it was painful.
I checked the comments, and they were already in the thousands, with no single positive comment about me.
“Gold digger!! He really gave her a car?”
“I knew she was a snake. Poor Dave, he deserves so much better.”
“This is disgusting. Women like her only want money until the real feelings hit.”
Tears blurred my eyes.
I gripped my phone tightly and slid down the wall until I was sitting on the cold floor with my knees pulled to my chest.
The sobs came loud and ugly.
I pressed my forehead against my knees, and my shoulders started shaking as my sobs came out louder and louder.
How has someone recorded us?
Who would do this?
Those were the thoughts clouding my mind while the comments under the post kept ringing in my head.
They didn’t know the full story, but somehow they concluded. They didn’t know how much I had tried. They didn’t even know how guilty I felt for hurting Dave.
None of that mattered now because the whole world or at least everyone on Pixtagram thought I was a heartless user who had played a good man for his money and then tossed him aside.
I cried until my throat hurt.
My phone kept buzzing in my hand, they had started tagging me and entering my dm to insult me.
I didn’t have the strength to look again and all I could do was sit on the floor, curled into myself, and wonder how everything had fallen apart so completely and whether I would ever be able to show my face again.
I was still on the floor when I heard the key turn in the lock.
Soon, the front door opened and Lena walked in, still wearing her modeling outfit with a garment bag slung over her shoulder.
She wanted to talk but swallowed the moment she saw me.
“Joan?”
She dropped the garment bag and rushed over, bending down in front of me.
“Oh my God! What happened? Why are you on the floor? Look at me. Huh,” she asked.
I couldn’t speak and I didn’t want to raise my head at first.
My eyes were swollen, but I had no choice.
When I finally looked up at her, fresh tears rolled out.
Lena’s raised an eyebrow. sat down right there beside me on the floor and pulled me into her embrace.
“Talk to me,” she said gently, rubbing my back slowly.
“What’s wrong? Is this because of what happened with Dave?”
I nodded against her shoulder, the cries starting again.
“The breakup… someone recorded us,” I managed to utter.
“They posted the voice recording on Pixtagram. The whole conversation… everything. Now everyone is calling me a gold digger and a snake. Saying I used him for his money and dumped him.”
“What?” Lena stiffened and pulled back from me slowly, just to look at me.
Then she reached for her phone, opened the app, and scrolled through quickly.
“Oh, Joan…” Her eyes widened as she read the comments.
“These people are cruel. They don’t even know anything.”
She put her phone down and wrapped her arm around me again, hugging me tighter.
“You are not a gold digger,” she muttered firmly.
“You are not a snake either. You are a woman who was honest about her feelings instead of stringing a good man along, and that… took courage. Most people would have stayed and faked it but you didn’t. Instead, you let him go so that he would find someone who would love him fully.”
I cried harder, the words sinking in, but not quite sticking yet.
Lena kept talking, her voice steady and warm against my hair.
“Listen to me,” she said, holding my face in her palms.
“The internet is full of angry and bored people who love tearing others down. I know you, I know how much guilt you’ve been carrying, and I know you didn’t do this to hurt him intentionally. You did it because you didn’t want to keep hurting him.”
After that, she wiped my tears with her thumb, careful not to smudge what was left of my mascara.
“You are allowed to not be ready,” she continued.
“You are allowed to still have feelings for Alex. You are allowed to need time. That doesn’t make you a bad person, Joan. It makes you human.”
I sniffled, leaning my head against her shoulder again.
“I feel so ashamed,” I whispered.
“Dave was so good to me and now the whole world thinks I used him,” I added.
“Let them think what they want,” she said, her voice firm.
“The only person who matters knows the truth. He knows that this is hard for you too,” she said, rubbing my back in a slow circular motion.
“We will get through this,” she promised.
I wasn’t sure if that was true, because as far as I know… the internet never forgets.
“We will report the post, block the worst commenters and if anybody says anything to your face, they will have to deal with me,” she added, with a small smile.
I let out a small smile too, even though I was still crying inside.
“There she is. My strong girl,” Lena smirked.
She helped me up from the floor and led me to the couch. Then she went to the kitchen, made me a cup of chamomile tea, and sat beside me again, pulling my head onto her shoulder.
“Just breathe, okay? I’m right here,” she said softly.
I closed my eyes, the warmth of the tea and Lena’s steady presence slowly easing the worst of the panic.
The internet could call me whatever they wanted but at least I wasn’t alone.
DAVE WILTON’S POV
I felt sick reading the comments.
This wasn’t just embarrassing. It was cruel and Joan didn’t deserve that. She had been honest with me and had let me go instead of fooling me, and now the internet was tearing her apart for it.
I immediately called my PR manager.
“Mirabel, there’s a voice recording of Joan and me on Pixtagram. It needs to come down now.”
“I saw it. It’s spreading fast,” she said, her voice professional but concerned.
“We are already reaching out to Pixtagram’s legal team. We will put a copyright claim on the recording since it’s a private conversation. We can also push for harassment, defamation, and cyberbullying.”
“Do whatever it takes. Just get it removed.”
While I waited for updates, I started reporting the post myself from multiple accounts. I also contacted friends in tech who had connections at Pixtagram. Then I reached out to a couple of influencers asking them to quietly push back the narrative.”
Every minute I refreshed the post, the negative comments kept climbing.
My chest tightened.
“Joan isn’t a gold digger,” I mumbled under my breath.
She was a woman who chose not to lie even when it was the easiest thing to do. She had chosen not to use me, even when she could have stayed and enjoyed the comfort I offered.
My phone rang.
“We got a temporary takedown,” Sarah said immediately I picked up.
“Pixtagram is reviewing it under their privacy policy. The post is down for now, but copies are already being shared on their platforms. We are working on those too.”
“Good,” I replied.
“Don’t stop until every version is gone.”
I hung up and leaned back in my chair, rubbing my face.
I was doing everything possible and using every connection I had.
Because even though Joan had broken my heart, I couldn’t stand by and watch her being destroyed online for it.
She didn’t deserve this and I wasn’t going to let the internet turn her into a villain.
Just then, a text from Jane popped up on my phone.
“I’ve been trying to reach out to Joan, but she isn’t picking up her calls. Don’t you think someone is deliberately messing with her?”
And that was when it dawned on me, that someone had recorded us on purpose and it didn’t seem like they were finished.