"What a fool," Clayton repeated, berating himself as he watched the stream and the live comments scrolling by.
One comment read: "When Mr. Nicholson was protecting Winona outside the hospital yesterday, he literally shouted that she was his wife, but none of you listened. You just kept calling her a 'professional mistress.' God, online mob justice is terrifying. Look what it's driven her to do!"
"I have to admire Winona," another wrote. "So many people were helping the mistress attack her, but she stood her ground. And she supported three people who aren't even her blood relatives. She's incredible."
"She may seem small and humble, but she's tough as nails. Could any of us have endured that?"
"Incredibly strong and resilient."
The comments were a sea of sympathy and admiration for Winona, a complete reversal from the day before.
"All those bloggers who slandered her must be slapping themselves silly right now!"
"This is a lesson: don't spread baseless rumors unless you've caught someone red-handed. It's just cruel."
Reading that last comment, Clayton's face burned with shame. He had been one of the first to spread the rumors. He was one of the instigators. He had no idea what to do.
The hearing was still in progress.
Winona's voice was calm, tinged with a weary resignation. "I need to get back to my work and get a new ID for my son. I tried time and time again to contact Mr. Nicholson to ask if he had signed the papers, but each time I was humiliated and thrown out. I used every method I could think of, but I was never allowed to see him. Your Honor, can I claim compensation from him for the work I lost during this period?"



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