He Chose Her, So I Jumped Chapter 06

He Chose Her, So I Jumped Chapter 06

An accusation from the man at the center of the scandal carried more weight than any document

ever could.

The crowd’s fury surged, and the shouting grew louder.

Several people became so enraged that they snatched stones from the ground and hurled them at

Marceline.

One struck her forehead. Blood poured down her face.

She screamed, collapsed against Julian, and tried to hide behind him.

But he was being hit just as hard. Both of them covered their heads and scrambled around like

trapped rats.

The scene dissolved into chaos.

Marceline tripped and crashed hard onto the ground.

Her slightly rounded stomach struck a jagged rock. Blood gushed out instantly.

It soaked through the clothes between her legs, and the crowd scattered at the sight.

Marceline was left writhing on the ground, screaming in agony.

“It hurts… my stomach. My stomach hurts so much.Oh my god, my baby!”

The spectacle finally ended with Marceline’s miscarriage.

By the time she reached St. Celeste Medical Center, there was no way to save the pregnancy. The doctors had to perform emergency surgery.

The damage was so severe that they couldn’t save her uterus either. She would never have a child of

her own.

When she learned the outcome, Marceline rolled her eyes back and fainted.

I heard that when she woke, she caused a scene in the hospital. Someone uploaded it, and she became an online symbol of disgrace.

My parents and I were buried again. Cassian paid a fortune for a plot at Willowmere Memorial Gardens outside Ravenwood Heights.

The property was in an exclusive area where every square foot cost a fortune. He bought three adjoining plots without hesitation.

e had no other relatives, so Cassian was the only person who attended the funeral.

It rained that day. He carried no umbrella and let the rain soak through his clothes.

He stared at the three gravestones, then his knees buckled and he fell before them.

“I’m sorry…”

The apology came far too late. It was weightless now.

After the funeral, Cassian began addressing the lies online.

He released another public clarification video, this time clearing my name.

He included my medical documentation for depression and evidence of everything they had done to

frame me.

Every accusation against me had been false. They had smeared me from the beginning.

I had never interfered in anyone’s relationship. I hadn’t pushed Marceline down the stairs, and I

hadn’t faked an illness for sympathy.

They had invented all of it and forced me to bear the blame.

The moment the video went public, Cassian, Marceline, and Julian became targets.

Online users refused to accept being manipulated, and they unleashed all their rage on the three of

them.

The condemnation became relentless. Their accounts were exposed, followed by their home

addresses.

Claiming they were avenging me, people gathered outside their homes with signs and screamed

abuse.

Cassian’s license was revoked as well. He would never be allowed to run a behavioral health clinic

again.

Marceline and Julian became social pariahs who hid inside all day, too afraid to step outdoors.

Even that didn’t stop the enraged mob from breaking through their front door and threatening to

teach them a lesson.

Fortunately, the police arrived before another tragedy could unfold.

After days of this, Marceline finally broke.

She stormed to Cassian’s home, shoved open the door, and found him packing a suitcase

“Cassian Whitmore! Delete those posts right now. You’ve completely lost

your mind.”

“What did posting any of that do for you? Now you’ve lost your career too. Are you happy?”

She shook with rage. For days, she hadn’t dared leave her home, and every morning she woke to

people screaming insults outside.

Her neighbors kept filing complaints. Now the property manager was pressuring her to move out.

Cassian never stopped packing his belongings into the suitcase.

Traces of me remained everywhere: pink slippers by the front door, matching toothbrushes in the

bathroom, and brightly colored clothes in the closet.

His eyes went distant. Then something pricked his finger.

The instant he saw the matching rings I had hidden beneath the pillow, every emotion he had suppressed finally broke free.

I had shaped and polished them myself. Inside the bands, I had engraved the date we met.

I had planned to give them to him that day, but everything had fallen apart before I got the chance.

The six-foot-tall man closed his fist around the rings, dropped to his knees, and sobbed like a child.

Only then did he understand what he had truly lost.