I had just posted a vacation photo with my boyfriend on Instagram when a "Loyalty Tester" slid into my DMs. "Babe, your boyfriend looks like a player. Send me his handle. I’ll run a loyalty test on him for free, how about it?" "Are homewreckers really this bold and self-righteous nowadays?" I replied. After I rejected her, she immediately took a screenshot of our chat, posted it on TikTok, and played the victim. Within hours, thousands of netizens flooded my DMs, cursing me out. To keep the peace, I swallowed my pride and posted a public apology, stating I just wanted a quiet, normal life. But she and her followers decided my apology was proof of a guilty conscience. They insisted I was terrified, and she boldly declared she was going to test him anyway to "save" me. A few days later, the Loyalty Tester smugly posted a screenshot showing she had successfully added my boyfriend on Snapchat. The caption read: "Easy catch. Your man isn't exactly a saint, babe~" I looked at the post, but all I felt was pity for her. Her new post went viral. Within an hour, it hit ten thousand likes. I stared at the two screenshots in the post. The first was her friend request: "Hey handsome, this is me in the pic. Add me?" The second was a chat interface. She had blurred his username, but I recognized the profile picture instantly. It was a photo of me, taken during our vacation just a few days ago, smiling radiantly at the camera. The comment section was an absolute bloodbath. Hordes of netizens rushed in to mock me. "@Chloe, come look at this! Do you recognize the guy flirting in someone else's chat?" "Where is that clown who was defending him? No wonder she got so defensive over a free loyalty test. Her precious Prince Charming belongs to the streets." "Stop hiding, pick-me girl. Come out and beg the tester for an apology." As the internet demanded, I was tagged in the top pinned comment, right beneath the Loyalty Tester's smirking emoji. Watching the comments grow increasingly vile, I couldn't hold back anymore. I posted a response: "I appreciate everyone's concern for my relationship. However, my boyfriend and I have known each other since high school. We've weathered a lot of storms together. I know his character, and I have absolute faith in our relationship. If things ever fall apart, I won't hesitate to walk away. But until then, I will not subject him to some twisted psychological test, and I do not welcome anyone trying to interfere in our relationship." Seeing a wave of rational users upvoting my response, I breathed a sigh of relief, praying the mob would disperse. But the Loyalty Tester immediately replied with a crying video: "Babe, I don't want to ruin your relationship! I'm just terrified of seeing a sweet girl get manipulated by a toxic man. I just wanted to help!" The moment she spoke, her army of followers descended, and the narrative violently shifted again. They decided I was just a desperate, pathetic "doormat" who couldn't bear to let go of a cheater. They started mocking my post, turning it into a copypasta template, laughing and calling it a "masterclass in delusion." Even the few comments wishing us a long, happy relationship were downvoted to oblivion. Staring at the vicious, stinging words, my chest tightened. Finally, I just turned off my phone. That evening, I came home exhausted from work. The moment I walked through the door, I saw Mason leaning back on the sofa, staring at his phone with a faint, handsome smirk on his face. Hearing my keys, he instinctively flinched. He quickly placed his phone face-down on the cushions and coughed awkwardly. "Chloe, you're home early today?" "Yeah. Were you chatting with someone?" "Just one of the bros." My heart sank. He was lying. Mason had a specific tell—every time he lied, he blinked rapidly. I forced myself to rationalize it. We were adults; everyone is entitled to their privacy. I pretended not to notice. I sat down and started complaining about the drama at my corporate job, just like I usually did. Mason listened quietly, just like he usually did. But his eyes kept darting back to his phone. After talking for ten minutes without getting a single response, a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me. Remembering the internet circus from earlier, I couldn't help but test the waters. "Mason, did anyone... weird try to add you online today?" He smiled casually. "Nope." Hearing that single word, my heart plummeted into the abyss. I subconsciously gripped the hem of my shirt, desperately trying to shake the paranoid thoughts from my head. Mason and I had been through a lot. It wasn't like other girls hadn't tried to shoot their shot before—college underclassmen, flirty coworkers—but he had brutally rejected every single one of them. Why would a random internet troll suddenly destroy what we had? Besides, I knew exactly what kind of man Mason was. Comforting myself with that thought, I let out a breath and went to the bedroom to rest. But the moment I opened Instagram, I saw the Loyalty Tester had just dropped a new update. "You poor, naive girl. My heart breaks for you." I was instantly drawn to the cover photo. It was a screenshot of her chat with Mason. At first, it was just her awkwardly trying to make conversation. But once she "discovered" that Mason loved playing Valorant, they instantly hit it off. He even invited her to a duo queue. After the match, the chat showed him praising her gaming skills, saying she was way better than his "clueless girlfriend" who didn't know how to play. My grip on my phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. It was true. Mason was an incredible gamer, and I was absolute garbage at it. Whenever we played together, I dragged him down, and he had to constantly save me while reassuring me it was fine. Knowing I was a liability, I eventually just stopped playing with him altogether. The internet mob arrived on cue. "Oh my god, she's still not dumping him?!" The comments aggressively tagged my handle. "She's the ultimate pick-me. What do you expect? She's perfectly happy eating garbage." "Poor OP, having to force herself to flirt with such a disgusting guy just to prove a point." The Loyalty Tester replied sweetly: "Babes, it's not hard work. I just want to help my sisters see men for who they truly are." The internet erupted in applause, showering her with digital hugs. "The OP is a literal angel. Too bad the pathetic girlfriend is too blind to appreciate it." "It's okay," the tester replied. "Some girls are smart, and some girls are just a little slow. We need to be patient. I'll keep working hard until she finally wakes up." She attached a cute finger-heart emoji. Moved by her "heroic" mission, her follower count skyrocketed overnight. I clicked on her profile. Her entire grid was dedicated to exposing other people's boyfriends. Every cover photo had the words "CERTIFIED TRASH" stamped across it in bold red letters. The comment sections were filled with cheers and women thanking her for saving their lives. So, was it my turn now? Just then, I heard the bedroom door open. I looked at Mason as he walked in. The lighting cast shadows across my face. I asked him one more time: "Mason, I can trust you, right?" Mason tilted his head in confusion, then smiled, walking over and pulling me into a warm hug. He affectionately nuzzled his forehead against mine. "Of course you can." "Okay. I trust you." I put my phone down and turned off the lamp. For the next few days, I stayed off social media, and Mason didn't show any strange behavior. I figured that once the internet found a new target to bully, the mob would naturally disperse. But a few days later, while I was taking a coffee break after a client meeting downtown, I spotted a familiar back across the outdoor promenade. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a sleek black leather jacket. He stood out in the crowd. And standing out just as much was the stunning woman beside him. She was wearing a form-fitting black slip dress, smiling radiantly as she clung to his arm. It was the Loyalty Tester. I gripped my handbag tightly and marched forward. Just as I got close, the Loyalty Tester suddenly let go of his arm and scurried away, as if trying to avoid suspicion. Mason turned around. He looked at me, a mix of shock and panic flashing across his face. "Chloe? What are you doing here?" My gaze shifted from him to the retreating figure of the woman, my voice freezing cold. "Who was that?" He avoided my eyes. "Just an aggressive street promoter. She wouldn't stop trying to sell me cologne." "Then what are you doing all the way out here?" Mason owned a high-end automotive tuning club. He was usually at his shop all day. Today, he had driven an hour across the city. He smiled softly. "I heard you had a client meeting in this area. I was waiting for you to finish so I could take you to dinner." He pulled out his phone to show me a reservation at a wildly expensive, incredibly romantic restaurant. Even though the overly dramatic, candlelit decor wasn't really my style, I appreciated the gesture and agreed to go. The food was actually fantastic. By the end of the meal, my mood had significantly improved. Bored, I pulled out my phone to check if the internet drama had finally died down. The very first thing on my feed was a new post from the Loyalty Tester. "Babe, you ate my food." The photo attached showed me sitting happily at the romantic restaurant, chatting with Mason. Mason happened to have his head turned away from the camera. From that specific angle, his back looked somehow lonely and distracted. I whipped my head around to look at the spot where she must have taken the photo, but the area was already empty. My good mood instantly evaporated. A wave of suffocating irritation washed over me. I accidentally glanced at the comment section, reading the sarcastic, mocking quotes from her followers. A lump of pure, unadulterated rage lodged in my chest, completely trapped. Right on cue, the Loyalty Tester sent me a DM. Her tone was still dripping with that fake, patronizing pity. "Babe, I assume you saw it. I bet that trashy man told you I was just a promoter, didn't he?" The fire in my chest exploded. My typing was aggressive: "I am warning you for the last time. I do not need your so-called loyalty tests. Stay the hell away from me and my boyfriend!" The Loyalty Tester replied with breezy arrogance: "Every woman acts exactly like you when forced to face reality. But it's fine. I know that in a few days, you'll be on your knees thanking me." "Enough. Let me make this clear: intentionally inserting yourself into someone else's relationship, regardless of your pathetic excuses, makes you a homewrecker." She replied with a melodramatic sigh: "Fine. I'll just help you test him a little longer." She vanished offline. I was so furious I wanted to throw my phone across the restaurant. I looked up. Mason had just checked a message on his phone. He looked at me apologetically. "Chloe, work just blew up. I'm really sorry, but I have to go." He threw cash on the table and rushed out. I looked out the restaurant window. I watched him get into his sports car in the valet lane. Just as he pulled up to the curb, a woman slipped into the passenger seat. The angle obscured her face, but she was wearing a form-fitting black slip dress. I sat alone at the table for a long time before finally remembering I needed to head back to the corporate office. When I walked in, the pitch deck I had assigned to my team that morning was still sitting half-finished on a desk. "What is the meaning of this? I assigned this at 9 AM, and it's still not done?!" I slammed the folder onto the desk. A few junior employees lowered their heads in silence. But in the corner, Leo, the new Gen-Z intern, was scrolling on his phone and let out a loud, mocking snicker. "What's so funny?" He lazily lifted his eyes and turned his phone screen toward me. It was the Loyalty Tester's newest post. The algorithm was pushing it so hard that everyone in my office had seen it. "Supervisor Chloe," Leo drawled, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're getting publicly humiliated and cheated on for the whole internet to see, and you're coming in here to take your anger out on us?" The other employees didn't look the least bit sympathetic. Their eyes were dancing with suppressed laughter. Just then, the department director pushed the door open. Seeing the absolute chaos and the untouched pitch deck, he lost his mind and screamed at all of us—but aimed the brunt of his fury at me. I kept my head down and took the verbal beating, not daring to defend myself. Behind me, the intern was secretly snapping photos of me getting yelled at. When he was finally done screaming, the director pointed a lethal finger at my face. "Chloe, I am warning you! Your pathetic personal drama is severely damaging the company's image. Clean up your mess in one week, or you're fired!" He slammed the door and left. I tried to reassign the tasks. My team listened half-heartedly before sluggishly returning to their desks. But the second I stepped out for a breather, I saw that they had already leaked the photo of me getting screamed at to a gossip forum, laughing about it in the comments. That night, I dragged my exhausted, heavy body home. When I opened the door, the apartment was pitch black. I flicked on the lights. Sitting on the coffee table was a handwritten note. "Chloe, I had to head out of town for an emergency. Take care of yourself. I'll bring you back a present." I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. It went straight to voicemail. My iMessages were left on Delivered. I sat on the sofa for a moment, then subconsciously opened Instagram. Sure enough, pinned to the very top of the Loyalty Tester's profile was a brand new update. "Invited by a certain gentleman to go on a trip for a few days! I'll be doing a paid, exclusive live stream of the final loyalty test results for all my sisters!" Attached was a selfie of her holding a first-class boarding pass. The internet lost its collective mind. Even when they realized they had to pay to access the live stream, thousands of people eagerly bought tickets, declaring they would gladly pay for front-row seats to this drama. A mob flooded my comment section, demanding to know if I was finally going to dump him. I held my ground, pinning a stern message directed at the Loyalty Tester: "I know exactly what kind of man my boyfriend is. I am asking you to stop harassing us. I am telling you this for your own good." Unlike before, the mockery shifted into a wave of condescending pity. Armchair psychologists began dissecting my entire digital footprint, psychoanalyzing me. Some claimed I was a victim of childhood neglect, which is why I was desperately clinging to a toxic man. They urged parents to love their daughters so they wouldn't end up like me. Others said I was just pathologically stubborn, terrified of losing face, and willing to swallow poison just to prove the internet wrong. I was too exhausted to argue. I closed the app. Suddenly, a friend request popped up from an anonymous account. As soon as I accepted it, they sent me a stealth photo of Mason, followed by a GPS pin. "He's here."
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