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Online Shame, Real-Life Victory

Chapter 1 

Word Count: 698    |    Released on: 04/07/2025

k. It was almost 11 PM. The office was a ghost town, just the low hum of servers and the distant sound of the clea

a local city channel. The thumbnail was a shot of me walking out of my office building yesterday, my face clearly vi

ked on it, and a wave of scrolling comments, like a

so plain. Just a

. That's why she

could just walk up to her an

utfit. She needs a man

ot. Too much o

de my skin crawl. They saw a two-second clip and wrote my entire life story, a sad

ongue. I wanted to type, "I'm a senior analyst who just led a multi-m

was pointless. A cold knot of unease formed in my gut. It wasn't just the insults, it was

y. I scrolled to my family group chat, a picture of my thre

aving now. A little freaked out by some

. John, the oldest. "On my way. Send

tonight, I was grateful for it. I packed my bag, shut down my computer,

ing the stark overhead lights. I sat on one of the leathe

slid open, but

pensive-looking streetwear, and had a smile that was too wide, too perfec

his voice booming in the quiet lobby. "The har

rds me, his sm

ping me in the frame. "You don't know me, but I'm Chad. And you,

nd blank for a second.

awe. He puffed out his chest a

smile back to me. "Tonight, I'm going to make sure a lovely, hardworking woman like you gets ho

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Online Shame, Real-Life Victory
Online Shame, Real-Life Victory
“The lines of code glowed, green and satisfying. It was almost 11 PM, and I, Sarah, a data analyst by trade and a numbers person by nature, was finally done for the day. Then, a trending video popped up. My face, my building, and a headline: "Dedicated Employee or Work-Life Imbalance?" My stomach clenched. Comments flooded in, a digital deluge of pity and objectification. "Wow, she looks so plain." "Probably single. A guy could just walk up to her and she'd probably be grateful." It was disgusting. I felt watched, assessed, categorized by strangers. Unsafe. My brothers were on their way, a familiar comfort. But then, he walked in. Chad. A self-proclaimed "Good Samaritan" challenge participant, selfie stick in hand, beaming that too-perfect smile. He wanted me to be his content. I refused, but he ignored it, flicking my nose with a condescending playfulness. "A pretty girl like you shouldn't be frowning." Rage exploded inside me. I stood, demandmg he leave. With a dramatic sigh, he walked away, still filming. My phone, my lifeline, flickered and died. Just as relief washed over me, the glass doors slid open again. Chad was back. And he had a huge bouquet of roses. A sickly-sweet smell. Dizziness. He was trying to drug me. I fought, screamed, and pepper-sprayed him. But the sedative was working. I collapsed, only to see him standing there again when the elevator doors chimed open. He'd circled back. Then the security guard, Tom, appeared. Chad, with chilling precision, recited my personal details, painting me as a dramatic girlfriend in a "lover's quarrel." Tom bought it. The world went dark as I fell, not to the floor, but into Chad's arms. He whispered in my ear: "Your colleague Mark sends his regards. He didn't appreciate you reporting him to HR."”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 10