They Framed Me as a Fraud, So I Exposed Them Live - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
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"Believe it or not, we could end you in seconds with just a snap of our fingers!"
I jerked my chin toward the door, silently telling her to get the hell out.
Wendy stormed off, slamming the door behind her. Good riddance. I'd bide my time until the cameras rolled again—then expose her live on air. No fancy diplomas needed when truth packed its own punch.
But when the broadcast resumed, the promised French expert was conspicuously absent.
Olivia's smirk oozed venom. "Surprise, Celine! The producers cooked up something... juicier for you."
That synchronized grin between her and Wendy sent ice through my veins. The rug wasn't just pulled from under me—they'd set the whole damn floor on fire.
Olivia announced with theatrical flourish, "To settle this nonsense once and for all, we've honored Mrs. Jones' request by inviting two very special guests!"
The studio lights hit them like interrogation beams—my elderly parents shuffling onstage under a thousand judging stares. My vision tunneled.
"Leave them out of this!" I roared, but Mom's palm cracked across my face before I could blink. Stars exploded behind my eyes as her shrill voice pierced the haze:
"Shameless girl! We raised you better than to spin these filthy lies! Apologize to Mrs. Jones this instant!"
The producers' twisted narrative unfolded—they'd convinced my traditional parents I'd squandered their life savings on some phony European "vacation," too proud to admit my scam. To their generation, authority figures were infallible; wayward children, always at fault.
"That ridiculous school name you made up?" Mom spat. "Sounded like gibberish! We knew something was fishy when you couldn't even pronounce it properly!"
Their betrayal carved me hollow. Not a single soul in that audience would believe me now.
"Ungrateful brat!" Dad bellowed as I stood my ground. His next slap sent me sprawling. "You'll thank us when they lock you up for slander!"
I wiped blood from my split lip. "Let her try." Since when did innocence require kneeling?
Wendy's sickeningly sweet voice dripped faux concern: "Such defiance... perhaps jail would teach her some humility?"
"No! Please!" My father's calloused hands became vises, slamming my forehead against the stage floor—thud, thud, thud—until the world blurred. "She apologizes! See? She's sorry!"
Wendy's magnanimous sigh was Oscar-worthy. "Very well. I'm too merciful for lawsuits."
We all knew the truth—she feared the scrutiny. But the hyenas circled anyway.
"Mrs. Jones is too kind!" a producer crowed. "This fraud deserves industry-wide blacklisting!"
Wendy's shrug was a death sentence. "Shall we make it unanimous, then?"
The CEO peanut gallery nodded like bobbleheads. Behind me, two sickening cracks echoed—my parents' knees hitting hardwood as they kowtowed. "Mercy, please! We'll grovel however long it takes!"
The studio lights burned hotter than shame.
I jerked my chin toward the door, silently telling her to get the hell out.
Wendy stormed off, slamming the door behind her. Good riddance. I'd bide my time until the cameras rolled again—then expose her live on air. No fancy diplomas needed when truth packed its own punch.
But when the broadcast resumed, the promised French expert was conspicuously absent.
Olivia's smirk oozed venom. "Surprise, Celine! The producers cooked up something... juicier for you."
That synchronized grin between her and Wendy sent ice through my veins. The rug wasn't just pulled from under me—they'd set the whole damn floor on fire.
Olivia announced with theatrical flourish, "To settle this nonsense once and for all, we've honored Mrs. Jones' request by inviting two very special guests!"
The studio lights hit them like interrogation beams—my elderly parents shuffling onstage under a thousand judging stares. My vision tunneled.
"Leave them out of this!" I roared, but Mom's palm cracked across my face before I could blink. Stars exploded behind my eyes as her shrill voice pierced the haze:
"Shameless girl! We raised you better than to spin these filthy lies! Apologize to Mrs. Jones this instant!"
The producers' twisted narrative unfolded—they'd convinced my traditional parents I'd squandered their life savings on some phony European "vacation," too proud to admit my scam. To their generation, authority figures were infallible; wayward children, always at fault.
"That ridiculous school name you made up?" Mom spat. "Sounded like gibberish! We knew something was fishy when you couldn't even pronounce it properly!"
Their betrayal carved me hollow. Not a single soul in that audience would believe me now.
"Ungrateful brat!" Dad bellowed as I stood my ground. His next slap sent me sprawling. "You'll thank us when they lock you up for slander!"
I wiped blood from my split lip. "Let her try." Since when did innocence require kneeling?
Wendy's sickeningly sweet voice dripped faux concern: "Such defiance... perhaps jail would teach her some humility?"
"No! Please!" My father's calloused hands became vises, slamming my forehead against the stage floor—thud, thud, thud—until the world blurred. "She apologizes! See? She's sorry!"
Wendy's magnanimous sigh was Oscar-worthy. "Very well. I'm too merciful for lawsuits."
We all knew the truth—she feared the scrutiny. But the hyenas circled anyway.
"Mrs. Jones is too kind!" a producer crowed. "This fraud deserves industry-wide blacklisting!"
Wendy's shrug was a death sentence. "Shall we make it unanimous, then?"
The CEO peanut gallery nodded like bobbleheads. Behind me, two sickening cracks echoed—my parents' knees hitting hardwood as they kowtowed. "Mercy, please! We'll grovel however long it takes!"
The studio lights burned hotter than shame.
End of They Framed Me as a Fraud, So I Exposed Them Live Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to They Framed Me as a Fraud, So I Exposed Them Live book page.