My Bestie Sold My Life for Views. Now, It's Her Turn.

In my past life, my best friend, an influencer with a million followers, sold my private schedule and my fear of men to a crazed male fan, all for the sake of a viral hit.

She called it testing a boyfriend's protective instincts.

When that man, knife in hand, dragged me into a dark alley, she hid behind the camera, excitedly counting the skyrocketing traffic.

My boyfriend, Ethan, lost control trying to save me, injured the man, and was vilified online as a "violent maniac" and sent to prison. I was labeled a "drama queen seeking attention" and, in despair, jumped from a high-rise.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the "desensitization test" party she had meticulously arranged for me.

Looking at the spiked drink she offered, I smiled.

This time, I wouldn't just tear up her script; I'd make her personally experience what a *real* live broadcast of despair felt like.

The deafening bass pounded against my eardrums, and colorful spotlights, like venomous snake tongues, slithered across the dim private room.

I jolted awake, cold sweat instantly soaking my back.

As my vision focused, a delicate yet sickening face filled my view.

"Alice, what are you spacing out for? Drink up, the 'desensitization game' is about to begin tonight."

Chloe smiled brightly, swirling a crimson cocktail in her hand, holding it to my lips.

I stared at the drink, my fingertips trembling uncontrollably.

Not from fear, but from the bone-deep hatred screaming in my veins.

I was reborn.

Back to my junior year of college, at this so-called "androphobia desensitization party" Chloe had organized for me.

In my previous life, it was at this very party that I drank this glass of wine, laced with a potent hallucinogen and sleeping pills.

Afterward, she locked me in a dark utility closet at the end of the hallway, claiming it was a "game segment."

Waiting for me there wasn't some game NPC, but a perverted male fan who had paid a hefty sum for my "first fright experience."

That man covered my mouth, tore at my clothes, and the blade of his folding knife grazed my cheek.

And Chloe, my "best friend," the female empowerment blogger with a million followers, was hiding behind a discreet camera in the ventilation duct, excitedly watching the donations and traffic skyrocketing on her livestream backend.

Later, my boyfriend, Ethan, kicked open the door and, red-eyed, beat that man to an inch of his life.

But Chloe cut out the footage of the man with the knife, cut out my pleas, and only released clips of Ethan's beastly violence.

The title: *When Your Girlfriend Is in Staged Danger, Is Your Boyfriend a Protector or a Violent Maniac?*

Ethan was jailed, his future ruined.

I was slut-shamed by the entire internet and eventually leapt from the twenty-eighth floor.

"Alice? What's wrong? You look so pale, are you scared?" Chloe's voice snapped me out of my memories.

She leaned closer, her eyes glittering with undisguised excitement and greed, like she was looking at a trending product about to hit the shelves.

"Don't be scared, I'm here. It's more impactful if it's real, right?"

*More impactful if it's real.*

There it was again, that utterly disgusting line.

I took a deep breath, suppressing the churning in my stomach, and a chilling smile touched my lips.

"Alright," I said, taking the glass. My fingertips traced the cold glass. "But this drink's color is too vibrant; I don't really like it."

I picked up another glass of sparkling water from the table. "I'll drink this."

Chloe's face subtly shifted, a flicker of panic in her eyes. She reached out to grab my glass. "Oh, no, that one's mine! This one is my special 'Water of Courage' just for you."

Just as she leaned in to lunge for it, I flicked my wrist, my finger subtly nudging the powder hidden under my fingernail into her glass.

It was a spare pill I'd slipped out of her bag when she'd turned away moments ago.

"Since you specially prepared it, how can I be so rude as to enjoy it alone?" I smoothly crisscrossed the two glasses in the air, swapping them with lightning speed.

"Cheers." I handed the swapped cocktail back to her and tilted my head back, downing the drink that had originally been hers.

Chloe paused, seemingly not catching my move. She looked at the drink in her hand suspiciously, then at me as I swallowed, finally letting down her guard.

"Cheers, to your... rebirth tonight." She smiled meaningfully, tilting her head back and drinking the glass, now double-spiked, clean.

I watched her throat bob, my eyes icy.

Yes, rebirth.

But tonight, the one going to hell is you.

Less than ten minutes later, the drugs kicked in.

Chloe's cheeks were flushed with an unnatural color, her eyes began to glaze over, and her body swayed, slumping onto the sofa.

"Alice... I'm so dizzy... Is this drink..." She weakly clutched my sleeve, her voice already slurring.

I watched her with cold eyes, then grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the sofa.

"Dizzy? Good. The game's about to start." I leaned close to her ear, my voice soft like a whisper from hell. "Didn't you say the more real, the better?"

Half-supporting, half-dragging her, I steered her away from the chaotic party-goers in the room and straight towards the utility closet at the end of the hallway.

The hallway lights flickered dimly, and the air was thick with the pungent mix of cheap perfume and alcohol.

The utility closet door was ajar, a suffocating darkness seeping from within.

I pushed the door open and shoved the limp Chloe inside.

"Alice... What are you doing... Don't leave me alone..." Chloe fumbled in the darkness, her voice finally laced with genuine fear.

"Don't worry, your 'leading man' will be here any second."

I said coldly, then slammed the door shut, the click of the lock echoing.

With that done, I turned and walked into an empty room next door, pulled out my phone, and called Ethan.

The phone rang once before he answered.

"Where are you?" Ethan's voice was deep and husky, tinged with suppressed anxiety.

"The Scarlet Lounge, second floor." I leaned against the cold wall, listening to his voice, my eyes uncontrollably reddening.

In my previous life, he had held me, hands bloody, kissing my forehead repeatedly, saying, "Don't be scared, I'm here."

This time, I would never let him be tainted again.

"I'm on my way." The roar of a motorcycle engine sounded from the other end of the line.

"Ethan, listen to me." I took a deep breath, my tone more serious than ever. "No matter what you see or hear tonight, absolutely do not lay a hand on anyone. Bring your miniature camera and record everything."

The engine sound paused.

"Alice Stone, is someone bothering you?" His voice instantly turned ice-cold, radiating palpable killing intent.

"No," I softened my voice, a hint of reassurance in my tone. "But I need you to help me expose a fraud. Remember, no physical contact, just record. If you so much as throw a punch, I'll never speak to you again."

There was silence on the other end for a full five seconds.

"Fine, I'll do as you say," he agreed, gritting his teeth.

Hanging up, I walked to a surveillance blind spot at the hallway corner, watching the utility closet.

Three minutes later, a man in a black baseball cap and mask skulked furtively down the hallway.

He glanced around, pulled a spare key from his pocket, and inserted it into the closet lock.

The door opened, and the man slipped inside.

Almost simultaneously, a muffled gasp came from the closet, followed by the sound of tearing clothes and the man's heavy breathing.

"Baby, don't hide, Chloe said you love a thrill..."

"Get off me! Don't touch me! I'm Chloe! Help"

Chloe's shrill screams pierced through the door, echoing in the hallway.

I stood emotionless in the shadows, pulled out my phone, and opened the 911 dialing screen.

"Hello, 911? Abandoned storage room on the second floor of The Scarlet Lounge, someone is being sexually assaulted."

After hanging up, I looked down the hallway. Ethan's tall, imposing figure strode towards me.

He wore a black jacket, his eyes sharp, radiating a menacing aura that kept people away.

Seeing me safe and sound in the corner, his taut jawline finally relaxed a bit. He took a large stride and pulled me into his arms.

His heart raced, and his embrace was so tight it almost broke my bones.

"I'm fine." I hugged him back, pressing my cheek against his firm chest, inhaling the familiar scent of mint and tobacco. The ice in my heart finally cracked.

"Who's in there?" His gaze was fixed on the door, from which screams and thuds continued.

"A rotten person getting what they deserve." I pulled back from his embrace and straightened his collar. "Is the recording on?"

Ethan nodded, pointing to the discreet camera on his chest.

"Good." I took his hand. "Now, let's go enjoy the climax of this show."

Police sirens pierced the night's stillness, and flashing red and blue lights illuminated the area outside the bar like daylight.

Officers stormed up to the second floor and kicked open the utility closet door.

The scene inside was gruesome.

The masked man was pressing Chloe down, a gleaming folding knife still in his hand, its blade against Chloe's neck.

Chloe's clothes were disheveled, her hair a mess, her face streaked with tears and terror, her meticulously applied makeup smeared.

"Police! Drop your weapon! Hands on your head!"

The man was terrified by the sudden bright lights and shouts. His hand shook, and the knife clattered to the floor.

Officers swiftly moved in, twisted his arms behind his back, and pinned him to the ground.

Chloe cowered in the corner, trembling like a dying fish.

When she looked up, her eyes widened instantly, filled with disbelief and venomous hatred, as she saw me, unharmed, standing outside the hallway crowd.

"Alice Stone! It's you! You set me up!" She shrieked desperately, trying to lunge at me, but was held back firmly by a female officer.

I looked at her expressionlessly, my gaze like I was looking at non-recyclable trash.

"Chloe, you're drunk. What are you rambling about?" My tone was calm, even with a hint of appropriate shock and pity. "I just went to the restroom, and when I came back, I saw all these people gathered here... How did you end up with someone like this?"

"Bullshit! You swapped my drink! You locked me in!" Chloe roared hysterically, like a madwoman.

"Madam, please mind your language," the lead officer frowned. "You sent messages inviting this man here. We've found your chat logs on his phone."

Chloe looked as if struck by lightning, freezing in place.

Of course, she knew the chat logs were real; she had personally sent them to this perverted fan, originally to use against me.

Now, they had become ironclad proof of her soliciting or staging a crime herself.

"No... It's not like that... I was just testing..." She stammered, trying to explain.

"Testing what? Testing how to incite sexual assault?" The officer scoffed. "Take her away!"

Chloe and the man were escorted downstairs.

As she passed me, Chloe glared, gritting out a sentence: "Alice Stone, you just wait, I won't let you get away with this!"

I offered a slight smile, saying in a voice only she could hear, "Alright, I'll be waiting to see how you disgrace and ruin yourself."

After the police left, the bar fell into a dead silence.

Ethan remained silently behind me, like a guardian angel.

He reached out, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me into his embrace.

"This is what you meant by exposing a fraud?" His voice was low, tinged with dangerous scrutiny.

"Yes." I didn't hide anything. I looked up, meeting his deep eyes. "Ethan, Chloe tried to destroy me with the most vile methods. If I had been the one in there tonight, you would now be in prison for beating that man to a pulp to save me, all thanks to her."

Ethan's pupils constricted sharply, a tsunami of rage instantly swelling in his eyes.

He cupped my jaw, the rough touch of his thumb making me shiver slightly.

"She dared to lay a hand on you?" His voice was gritted through his teeth, filled with potent killing intent.

"She already did." I gripped his hand, my gaze firm. "So, I won't let her manipulate me anymore. Ethan, I'm going to fight back. I'm going to return everything she did to me a thousandfold."

Ethan stared at me for a long time, the storm in his eyes slowly subsiding, turning into a bottomless abyss.

He lowered his head and kissed my lips fiercely.

It was a kiss filled with aggression and possessiveness, carrying the scent of blood and an undeniable dominance.

"Alright," he released me, pressing his forehead against mine, his breathing heavy. "Whatever you want to do, I'll be with you. If the sky falls, I'll hold it up for you; if hell's gates open, I'll break through them for you."

The next morning, public opinion exploded as expected.

But the direction of the explosion was completely different from what Chloe had anticipated.

Last night's anti-vice raid at The Scarlet Lounge became a local trending topic. Bystanders caught photos of Chloe being escorted into a police car, looking disheveled.

Though her face was pixelated, her distinctive haute couture dress and limited-edition bag were immediately recognized by sharp-eyed fans.

"Holy shit! Isn't that Chloe, the million-follower blogger who constantly preaches 'female independence' and 'safety precautions'?"

"What's going on? The female empowerment blogger is playing this wild behind the scenes? Suspected of prostitution?"

"Inside scoop: apparently, it wasn't prostitution, but she was playing some 'real-life test' that backfired badly and nearly got her assaulted by a fan."

The internet instantly blew up.

Chloe's team reacted incredibly fast. In less than two hours, they released a clarification video.

In the video, Chloe appeared without makeup, her eyes red and swollen, face pale, looking pitiful.

"Hello everyone, I'm Chloe. Regarding last night's incident, I must clarify."

She choked back tears, large drops falling.

"Last night, I was trying to help my best friend with a 'fear of men desensitization test.' She's been unable to move past her past trauma, and I was too eager, wanting to use the most realistic scenario to stimulate her."

"I found a trusted fan to help me stage it, but I never expected my friend to misunderstand my good intentions. Not only did she abandon me at the last minute, she also locked me in the room and even falsely reported me to the police, slandering me..."

"I'm truly heartbroken. I poured my whole heart into helping her, why would she do this to me?"

As soon as this video was released, public opinion instantly reversed.

Chloe's long-cultivated persona as a "confidante" and "women's protector" played a huge role.

Countless fans flooded the comment section, beginning to furiously insult the "ungrateful friend."

"This friend is so toxic, isn't she? Someone tries to help her kindly, and she bites back?"

"Fear of men? I think it's more like a victim complex! People like her should be avoided!"

"Doxx her! Find this viper and make her apologize to Chloe!"

Soon, all my personal information was dug up.

My name, school, major, even records of my past therapy sessions were exposed online.

Countless malicious DMs and texts flooded in like a tide, making my phone almost unusable.

The university counselor's call also came through to Ethan's phone.

"Ethan, are you with Alice Stone? The current online controversy is negatively impacting the university. The department has decided to suspend Alice from classes for her to reflect at home. As her boyfriend, you should also be mindful of your influence and not get involved in this mess."

Ethan hung up immediately and threw his phone aside.

He turned to look at me, his eyes sharp as knives.

"Do you want me to get her account taken down?"

I sat on the sofa, looking at the disgusting insults on the computer screen, a cold smile on my lips.

"No need," I said, taking a sip of coffee. "Taking down her account now would be too easy. The higher you climb, the harder you fall."

I pulled out the voice recorder. Inside was Chloe's admission from last night, "It's more impactful if it's real," and the complete chat logs between her and that perverted fan, which I had backed up long ago.

But this wasn't enough.

In my previous life, Chloe relied on her powerful PR team and her skill at taking things out of context to twist black into white.

With just this evidence, she could easily claim it was a fan acting on their own, and that she was a victim too.

What I wanted was ironclad proof that would nail her to the pillar of shame.

I wanted to peel back her hypocritical facade and show the entire internet what kind of vile schemes this "women's protector" spouting righteousness and morality was really up to behind the scenes.