Loretta's action was not immediately noticed or cause any reaction. The article continued to circulate, discussed quietly among people. Those in the know watched the stock market; those uninterested treated the article like gossip, but many within the same circle chose to wait.
The Gladstone shares held steady.
Almost stubbornly so.
Even Mr. Gladstone, seeing that there had been no strong reaction, began to relax.
"Do you think the article will really have no effect?" Mrs. Gladstone asked. She was still furious that Loretta neither answered her calls nor returned her messages.
"Everything seems fine," her husband nodded.
While the Gladstone family were regaining their calm, the poster of the article noticed a notification. He should have overlooked it, but not when he saw who liked the post.
"Loretta Gladstone liked your post."
Could it be a coincidence? Not sure, the poster traced it, and it was indeed the Loretta he had posted about.
He immediately picked up his phone and called a number. Once it connected, he explained the situation to the person on the other end.
"How vengeful," the person on the other end said with a small chuckle. "Spread it," he instructed.
"Okay, sir," the poster said and ended the call.
As instructed, the news that Loretta had liked the article spread faster and more widely than the article.
Screenshots, reposts, and comments.
Within minutes, it became a discussion. Even those who did not know about the marriage were becoming more and more aware.
"Wait… she liked it?"
"Isn't that the same Loretta Gladstone?"
"The fiancée?"
"Could there be a mistake? Maybe someone is just seeking fame?"
Confusion turned into curiosity. Curiosity turned into suspicion.
Those investors, not wanting to lose money, investigated. It was indeed Loretta Gladstone who had liked the post.
"If it's false, why would she acknowledge it?"
"Is she confirming it?"
"Does that mean the family really abandoned her?"
The questions multiplied.
On the trading floor, hesitation crept in.
A few investors glanced at each other. They did not care if the family gossip was true or not, but they did not want to lose money.
Then one sold—just a small portion, quietly testing the waters.
Another followed. Then another.
It was not a crash, but the shift was there.
Subtle. And so more and more people began to sell. By the close of the market that day, the Gladstone stocks were not looking good.
News outlets picked it up quickly.
Not just the article now, but her reaction.
"Loretta Gladstone Responds to Controversial Article"
"Silent Confirmation? Fiancée's Online Activity Raises Questions"
Speculation grew louder and sharper. Even without facts, her actions seemed like evidence enough.
Then different narratives began to emerge. Some claimed that the Gladstone family were selling their daughter for money. Others even said that the waters of wealthy families were deep—being adopted did not mean good fortune.
Soon, it was not just the company stock but verbal attacks against the Gladstone family.
"They sent her to her death because she is not their daughter."
"How cold. One can never judge a book by its cover."
"She almost died, and they went on vacation?"
"All because she is adopted—her life does not matter."
"Of course they would sacrifice her."
"I heard Mrs. Gladstone is her biological mother. Just because she married into a wealthy family, she did not even care for her daughter's life."
"She is really the biological mother?" Some people expressed doubts, but evidence was presented.
This made the onlookers even angrier. Comments flooded in, each harsh and unfiltered.
"Her own daughter?"
"Disgusting."
"She pushed her into that marriage for money."
"No wonder the girl looks like that in photos."
"She's been suffering for years."
"They say with a stepmother comes a stepfather. Never expected it to be true the other way. This is really an eye-opener."
The more people spoke, the more details resurfaced. No one could tell if everything was fake or true, but they believed it.
In high society circles, the whispers turned sharp. Everyone stood on a high moral ground to point fingers, even if they would do the same or worse. As the saying goes, only a caught thief is a thief.
"Using an adopted child like that…"
"For profit?"
"They didn't even pretend to care."
"I heard she wasn't even visited in the hospital."
The reputation carefully built over years started to crack. At the Gladstone residence, the atmosphere was no longer lively. The earlier excitement had vanished, replaced with tension.
Mrs. Gladstone stood frozen, her phone clenched tightly in her hand.
Her screen was filled with notifications.
Mentions.
Tags.
Accusations.
Her expression darkened with every second.
"She liked it?" her voice came out low, disbelieving.
"That ungrateful girl—" she wanted to curse in her fury but did not want to look like a street vendor cursing without class.
Her hand trembled slightly from anger. "Good… good. She has grown wings," Mrs. Gladstone said. The more she thought about the situation, the angrier she became.
Mr. Gladstone sat nearby, his face no longer relaxed.
The latest numbers lay open before him.
The rise had stopped, and even if the loss was not great yet, it was still money.
"That single action…" he muttered. He realized that Loretta must really be angry this time to refuse to visit or take her mother's calls.
Isabella stood quietly to the side, her fingers tightening around her phone.
She had seen the comments. Her expression shifted slightly.
Not fear—
"They're blaming us…" she said softly. "But clearly sister agreed to this marriage on her own, right?" she added. More than the stock, she was worried about the truth coming out and having to marry Kevin.
Mr. Gladstone looked up from his screen. "These are just rumors. They will be forgotten in a few days," he said.
Isabella looked at her mother, unconvinced.
"Dear, take Isabella and visit her tomorrow. Don't lose your temper," he warned.
Mrs. Gladstone frowned. How could she not lose her temper? That ungrateful girl had forgotten everything and dared to like such a post.
Although she thought this way, she forced herself to calm down and followed her husband's advice.
…
So early the next morning, the mother and daughter went to Loretta's apartment, hoping she had returned.
Only to knock on the door for a long time without any response.
There were a total of four flats on her floor. Just as Isabella and her mother were thinking of what to do next, a neighbor came out.
"Why are you making so much noise early in the morning?" the person frowned.
Mrs. Gladstone put on the best smile she could.
"I have not heard from my daughter for a few days. We were a bit anxious. Sorry for the noise."
The neighbor looked at the mother and daughter. She was an old lady with nothing better to do, so she knew the business of everyone in the neighborhood.
"I don't think I have seen you before. Who is your daughter?" she asked, though she was clearly curious.
"My daughter lives in this apartment. Her name is Loretta," Mrs. Gladstone said.
"Ahh! Are you coming from out of town? That girl has not been home for a week now. The last time I saw her, she was carrying a suitcase with a young man," the neighbor said.
Hearing that, the mother and daughter looked at each other, their faces losing all color.
They had the same thought.
Loretta has eloped with some wild man.