The endless ping of notifications filled Deviana’s small apartment. Her phone screen was flooded with comments, direct messages, and tags from people she had never even met.

“What is this…” she whispered, her fingers trembling as she scrolled through the chaos.

Each line of text pierced deeper than the last:

> “Slut. How dare you sleep with a married man?”

“No wonder your career skyrocketed so fast. Must be using dirty tricks.”

“Women like you don’t deserve to be called designers.”

Her breath hitched, her chest tightened. Every word felt like a knife twisting into her.

---

The next morning at the office, the atmosphere had changed. Colleagues who once...