Then more people started gathering in the lobby, someone shouting that we were trending online.

Half an hour later, the hotel manager finally showed up.

I thought help had arrived and felt relieved, ready to explain the situation.

But he didn't even let me speak. Instead, he immediately started tearing into me: "What's going on here? I told you to handle the night shift properly and call me if anything happened. Is this how you treat our guests?"

His yelling left me dazed. I couldn't understand what I'd done wrong - I'd followed every training protocol.

Besides, I had called him multiple times, but his phone was off.

The manager completely ignored my attempts to explain, firing me on the spot to appease the angry crowd.

Later, Kevin came down from upstairs - with his business partner, not a mistress.

Melissa and Kevin reconciled with a loving embrace, while the lobby erupted in applause.

In the end, I was the only casualty in this whole circus, despite having nothing to do with it.

I thought it was over, but the online harassment just kept growing.

I became the internet's punching bag, branded as "the mistress's accomplice."

Mom and I couldn't go anywhere without people pointing and whispering.

Every day, vandals would show up at our house, smashing things and throwing paint.

The neighbors started complaining too.

Finally, Mom went on livestream and took her own life, trying to prove my innocence.

By the time I found her, she wasn't breathing.

I never knew if public opinion changed, and I didn't care anymore.

Mom was my only reason for living. Without her, I couldn't go on.

In my grief, I stabbed myself in the heart while thousands watched online.

But now, given another chance.

I can't make the same mistakes.

This time, Mom and I are both going to live.