The Billionaire Twins Need A New Mommy! - Chapter 367

Chapter 367: She should go. Lola… must go.
[Young Residence]

DING!

DING!

Melissa covered her ears, trying not to hear the endless calls and messages bombarding her phone. She hadn’t even gotten up from bed, wrapped tightly in a blanket, but no matter what, her phone sounded louder than usual.

“Ugh!” she groaned, yanking the blanket down and glaring at the device. It vibrated again on the bedside table, and when she reached for it to turn it off, the screen lit up with Manager Kang’s name flashing across it.

Her teeth ground together, her swollen eyes burning with fury. When the call finally stopped, her voicemail icon appeared. She played it, and his tired voice filled the silence.

“Melissa, you need to pick up the phone. The higher-ups are calling for you and want to talk. I’ll be there later once I drop off Simon at the set, but… you really need to come, Melissa. We have to fix this together.”

She bit her lower lip hard, listening until the message ended.

If the higher-ups were calling her, it could only mean one thing. She didn’t even have to show up to know what they’d say.

“Go there for what?” she scoffed, tossing her phone down. “To get humiliated?”

She clicked her tongue, ready to power it off, but her muscle memory betrayed her. Her thumb slid to her inbox. One glance, and her breath hitched. Dozens of unread emails filled her screen.

“What?” she whispered. Her hand trembled as she scrolled through them.

Termination. Contract revocation. Sponsorship withdrawals.

Every brand she’d worked with had cut ties with her overnight. Even her upcoming projects—the ones she’d proudly announced—had backed out. Then came an email from Angel’s Revenge production. They told her not to come to the set until further notice.

The series hadn’t released an official statement yet, but she already knew where this was heading.

“No…” she breathed, her pale complexion turning ghostly. “No, no, no.”

In a panic, she switched to her messages. What awaited her was more devastation. Group chats had kicked her out—or worse, kept her in so she could watch them talk about her. Some of her so-called friends copied and pasted the same cold message from their brands: We regret to inform you…

Reporters she knew messaged too, some pretending to check on her but clearly fishing for a quote or “exclusive.”

Her mind went blank. Finally, she opened social media.

Her name was trending, but not for her beauty, fame, or “perfect” engagement. Every headline mocked her. The engagement of the century had become the farce of the decade.

And the comments? They were merciless.

[She’s not even pretty. Seriously! She’s just another nepo baby who gets what she wants, but her face isn’t making it. How could she become a celebrity with that face? There were so many good-looking and more talented than her!]

[What a gold digger. I thought gold diggers were only for those who had nothing and wanted everything, but I guess even those with money wanted more. She’s greedy. She and her family.]

[Fun fact: the Young family isn’t the real rich people, but the Alberts. AKA, Melissa’s father’s first wife. How could people forget that she’s the daughter of a mistress? Second wife? Duh? She’s clearly the product of infidelity.]

[So it’s true she stole her sister’s life? There’s nothing good about being the daughter of a mistress.]

[The Lancaster family dodged a bullet. Imagine if this came out after they were married? No wonder NL Group’s stocks are tanking.]

[Everyone, comment on all her brand partners! Boycott any company that keeps her!]

The last post was spreading like wildfire. A link followed it. It was an online petition to “banish” her from the entertainment industry. It already had a hundred thousand signatures in under an hour.

Melissa’s phone slipped from her hands, landing on her lap. Her teary eyes stayed fixed on the glowing screen as another tear fell.

“This isn’t happening,” she whispered shakily. “It’s all just a dream… it’s all just a nightmare.”

SLAP!

A loud strike cracked through the room as her own hand hit her cheek.

“Wake up,” she whispered, staring at the mirror across from her. When nothing changed—when the reflection stayed the same—she slapped herself again.

SLAP!

Still nothing.

She hit herself over and over, her cheek turning red and raw, the sounds echoing through the bedroom. Her eyes were glassy, her breathing ragged, but she couldn’t stop. She had to wake up from this nightmare.

SLAP!

“Melissa!”

Jasmine burst through the door just as another slap landed. She ran to her daughter and caught her arm before the next strike could fall. “Melissa! What are you doing to yourself!?”

Melissa turned her head slowly. Her eyes were swollen, her lips trembling, and her cheek was red and puffy.

“Mom…” Her voice cracked. “This isn’t real, right? It’s not happening?”

Seeing her like that made something twist painfully in Jasmine’s chest. No mother wanted to see her child this broken—no matter what.

“Oh, my dear,” Jasmine murmured, softening as she sat on the bed and hugged her tightly. “Melissa, get yourself together.”

Melissa clung to her mother desperately, her sobs muffled against Jasmine’s shoulder. Tears soaked her blouse as Melissa’s voice broke apart in despair.

Everything—her image, her reputation, her future—was gone.

She wept for her career, her pride, and the illusion of love that had been shattered in front of everyone.

Jasmine rubbed her back, comforting her while her own jaw tightened. Behind her gentle expression, her fury simmered.

Because suddenly, Jasmine remembered.

Loren’s face. Loren’s last words.

“I pity your daughter.”

Her nails dug into Melissa’s back as her expression darkened.

This was Lola’s fault. All of it.

Loren’s ghost still haunted her through that wretched child. No matter what Jasmine did—how hard she tried—Lola always came back to ruin them.

Why wouldn’t she stay gone? Why couldn’t she just disappear forever?

A chilling calm washed over her fury as Jasmine looked down at her weeping daughter.

I should have erased her from the picture completely, she thought. Just like I planned all those years ago.

Her hand stilled on Melissa’s back, her gaze empty and cold. But in the depths of Jasmine’s eyes, something deadly flickered in them. It was her resolve.

She should go. Lola… must go.