The Fat Transfer System

My food streaming career was thriving.

In just two months, I had accumulated 500 thousand followers, decisively surpassing the numbers Selina had built over half a year.

Thanks to the food transfer system, Selina had to endure ten times the amount of food I ate every day. Her appetite had declined dramatically.

Watching her follower count drop while mine skyrocketed, she seethed with frustration but could do nothing about it.

Then one day, I shot to the top of the trending topics.

[Food Streamer Cecilia Linden Exposed: Plastic Surgery]

[Model Turned Streamer: Sugar Baby Scandal]

[Cecilia's Secret: Purging After Every Stream]

The exposé posts were detailed and convincing. They included numerous photos of me at upscale venues with business partners from my modeling days, claiming I had been kept by multiple wealthy men and only quit modeling after being driven out by their wives.

Several supposed friends shared deliberately unflattering photos, alleging they showed me before plastic surgery.

There was even grainy security footage of a woman in my apartment surrounded by empty plates. After ending her stream, she rushed into the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, frantically forcing herself to vomit.

My followers turned on me instantly.

[Models are never decent people! She's been with so many men… she's disgusting!]

[So it was all surgery? I wasted so much time simping over a fake face! Goodbye, plastic queen!]

[I thought Selina was lying, but Cecilia really does purge! Anyone who disrespects food like that has no right to be a food blogger! She should be banned permanently!]

Within hours, thousands of comments piled onto the hate threads. Someone was definitely orchestrating this, but I had no immediate proof.

The purging video was clearly staged by someone who broke into my apartment to impersonate me. It had to be Selina and Derek.

The security footage from that time period had been completely wiped.

With no other option, I grabbed my camera to take it to the store for professional data recovery.

The moment I stepped outside, a massive crowd swarmed me.

"You gold-digging fraud! I thought you were genuine and spent so much money on gifts behind my wife's back! Give me my money back!"

"You act so classy, but you're just trash! My daughter watches your streams every day. Stop corrupting my baby!"

"Knock that fake chin off her face! Let's see her scam people then!"

A rock struck my forehead hard. Blood trickled down. I scrambled back behind the security gate and called Derek with shaking hands.

"Derek! Where are you? I'm being..."

"Sorry, Cece, I have to work late tonight. I can't pick you up. Just grab dinner on your own!"

Before I could say anything, he hung up.

Right. How foolish of me to think he would keep up the act just to stay close to my assets. He would not even pretend anymore.

My address being leaked was definitely his and Selina's doing. Of course he would not help me.

I steadied myself and called the police. Thanks to the police intervention, the crowd finally dispersed. However, photos of me battered and disheveled were already permanently plastered across the internet.

Selina was thrilled. After weeks of silence, she called me.

"Cece, are you okay? Oh my god, those people were absolutely insane!

"But you know, I always said modeling wasn't exactly respectable work. All that schmoozing with clients was going to come back to bite you eventually!

"Why don't you take this chance to delete your account and quit? Social media pays well, but your safety matters more!"

I clenched my fists and said coldly, "Mind your own business!"

Then I hung up and dialed another number. "You can extend the partnership offer to Selina now. Make sure she signs the performance contract."

With my reputation in ruins, this was Selina's moment to shine. An olive branch from a top-tier MCN agency? She would never refuse.

Proving my innocence myself would be too tedious. It was better to let my opponent prove it for me.

That evening, I went live despite the torrent of online abuse. Not to retire, but to announce I would compete in the competitive eating championship one week from now.