Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young) novel Chapter 150

Chapter 150 You don’t get to tell me what to do 

Gossip about the rich and famous always garnered attention, and just the headline alone was enough to get everyone clicking. The article practically spelt out that it was dishing the dirt on Moore and me While the Scotts‘ Group might not stretch across the globe like the Youngs, we had plenty of clout and projects back home. Once the story with our names hit the web, it shot straight to the top of the trending list 

The article was so clear–cut and hit so close to home that the comment section turned into a firing squad aimed at Moore. 

After reading the piece, netizens could not stop themselves from chiming in. 

Netizen A posted, “Scumbags come in all flavors, and Miss Scott here is the latest brand of female 

lowlife.” 

Netizen B clapped back, “Watch your mouth up there. Read the fine print. She’s adopted, so she’s not 

a true Scott.” 

Netizen C added, “This just goes to show, you can’t just take in someone else’s kid. Bad genes only breed trouble, and no amount of effort can turn a bad seed good. 

Netizen D went for the jugular, “Some people’s greed knows no bounds. She didn’t even bother to repay the family that raised her before she started eyeing their billions. It’s downright evil. Lucky for the real Scotts‘ daughter, she’s safe. Otherwise, for someone like her, nothing would be punishment. enough.” 

The netizens‘ fury, mixed with their own life’s gripes, spilled out through their keyboards, hurling the nastiest insults they could muster. 

Some even went as far as to dox Moore, unearthing private moments between her and Idris, along 

a mix of made–up and maybe heard–somewhere tales of her trying to lure him in. 

And then there were those scenes at the police station, where her own mother was tearing into her, all caught on camera and now blasted for the world to see 

Suddenly, Moore was the talk of the town, with her name plastered across the top ten trending spots online. 

Rumors were flying left and right–some saying she did all sorts of crazy things to snag Noah when they got hitched. 

Others were dishing dirt about her college days at Mandala, like hooking up with an upperclassinan, catching HPV, and even having an abortion. 

There was even this wild story about her trying to charm a big shot’s son in Mandala, but ending up getting ditched in the street without her clothes on 

Basically, every bit of gossip, whether it was true or not, was being dug up by the online crowd and dumped right on Moore’s doorstep. 

As I watched the internet tear Moore to shreds, I handed Idris’s phone back to him and massaged my temples. “I didn’t start this fire,” I told him. He had not asked, but by the way he brought it up, it was like he was fishingfor an answer. 

I mean, who else would have it out for Moore like I did? 

Idris’s brow.creased, and he locked eyes with me, his l*ps a tight line. “I know that,” he said. 

I stopped short, puzzled. If he knew I was not behind it, why was he showing me all this drama? 

He must have caught the question in my eyes because he arched an eyebrow and said, “If you really wanted to take her down, you would not have turned down the dirt I dug up at the restaurant.” 

He said it so coolly and easily that it took me a second to catch up. I stared at him, trying to figure out