A Heart for the Town, A Knife in My Back

Name: A Heart for the Town, A Knife in My Back
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Immanuel Caspar

Modern | Completed

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After working for five years, I returned to my hometown to help farmers with live streaming. I wanted to repay the villagers for their support in funding my college education. However, the villagers doubted that I would share the profits and accused me of keeping their hard-earned money for myself. They demanded that I hand over my eight-year-old account to them and leave the village. I found it both infuriating and amusing, so I decided not to comply. Fortunately, the neighboring village was eager for my help in selling their products.

Betrayal Selfless Drama Kickass Heroine

Chapter 9

12-17 15:20

Chapter 1

"Sis, hurry to the Town Hall! The townsfolk are waiting for you there!"

I had just opened my phone to prepare for today's "Support Our Farmers" Livestream when my younger sister burst in, panting.

Thinking it must be about yesterday's payment issue, I handed her the phone. "Start the livestream in twenty minutes," I told her and rushed out the door toward the Town Hall.

The meeting room, usually quiet and nearly empty, was now packed. Every pair of eyes glaring at me was filled with resentment and hostility. Someone pointed a finger straight at me and began shouting.

"Jill Butcher, you ungrateful thing! Back when your family was dirt poor, weren't we the ones who loaned you money? And when you got into college, we organized that fundraiser for you! Every family in this town chipped in – some gave fifty dollars, others gave a hundred or more! And now that you've made something of yourself, you claim you're here to repay us, helping us sell our crops – apples, melons, everything, but instead, you're pocketing our hard-earned money! Jill, you're worse than a beast. Even animals wouldn't stoop this low!"

I stood frozen in confusion. Just yesterday, everything had been fine. How had things turned so ugly overnight?

Seated at the head of the table, my old friend, Caroline Thomas, spoke up, her voice cutting. "Jill, you've let us all down. Things have come this far, and you're still not admitting it?"

"Admit what?" I shot back, my voice rising. "Caroline, if anyone here knows me, it's you. How can you believe this nonsense?"

Caroline gave me a pitying frown.

"Jill, yesterday, a business partner called the Town Hall. They said you earn seven to eight thousand dollars per livestream, sometimes tens of thousands! Our apples, after accounting for packaging and shipping, sell for only $4 a pound. In two days, we sold 2, 000 pounds, and each household received just a few hundred dollars. So where's the rest of the money? Did you pocket it all?"

"Do we even need to ask?" another voice interjected. "She's a college graduate who's been out in the city for five years. She's bought a house, a car, and now she's planning to renovate her family's home. Of course, it's all with our hard-earned money! Jill, how could you be so heartless? Living it up on our hard-earned money – don't you worry about karma catching up with you, or choking on those fancy drinks of yours?"

As I scanned the room, I noticed Caroline smirking slightly, her arms crossed smugly over her chest. It was clear to me now – these people had been fed lies, and Caroline was behind it.

Our town was nestled deep in a remote, rural area. Even now, many older folks believed educating daughters was a waste of resources.

Back I was a child, my father was determined that I should get an education. "A girl needs to be educated if she wants to break free from this place and build a better life," he would always say.

Even after I was accepted into an Ivy League university, the townspeople still dismissed my education as useless, assuming I'd just get married and settle down.

When I returned to the town two months ago, my goal was to use my success to challenge those outdated beliefs and repay the community for their support back then.

But instead, it seemed I became a target of jealousy. Especially for Caroline.

Caroline's father has been the head of our town council for over thirty years. After finishing middle school, Caroline married someone from our town and was given a position as an accountant and community outreach coordinator for local women's affairs, courtesy of her father's influence.

Growing up, Caroline and I were inseparable, sharing everything as best friends. When I returned to town, I confided in her about my plans.

"Jill," Caroline had said curiously, "is livestreaming really that lucrative? Show me how it works – I'd love to try it myself!"

It was her father who had organized my fundraiser all those years ago, and I'd always remembered that kindness. Without much thought, I shared nearly everything with Caroline about how I managed my account and built my audience.

Three days ago, I had to close on my new house, which happened to be on the same day as a scheduled livestream. So, I asked Caroline to step in for me.

It seemed she thought that after filling in for just three days, she could push me aside and take over the entire operation.

I watched her now, feigning concern and heartbreak, while her furrowed brows barely concealed her true intentions.

"Caroline," I said coolly, "do you really think the money I used to buy my house and car came from exploiting the town's hard work?"

Caroline responded with a pointed tone. "And where else? If it weren't for everyone here supporting your education, you'd be just like me now – a mother of two kids."

She continued with a self-righteous air. "Jill, we may be friends, but when it comes to principles, I can't let this slide."

I asked, disappointed but calm, "What exactly do you all want?"

"You need to pay back the money you stole from us," she demanded. "And don't forget the slot fees either! If you don't return what you owe, don't even think about leaving this room!"

I let out a bitter laugh and took off my cap, tossing it onto the table.

"My account is something I built over eight years, bit by bit," I said firmly. "The slot fees? I charge those to outsiders, not to you. Do you think I charge you for damages? Do you think I don't pay my staff?"

I paused for a second, then went on, "Let me remind you, I paid out of my own pocket to turn the dirt roads around this town into asphalt so you could ship your apples faster! Where were you all then? Where were your complaints when I was spending my own money?"

The room fell silent.

Someone sitting to Caroline's right leaned over and whispered to her. "Caroline, why didn't you tell us any of this? You told us the town council paid for those roads. How could it actually be Jill?"

Just last night, after the livestream, I had poured my heart into sharing feedback with her, pointing out what could be improved and how to handle the next session better.

Yet, somehow, all the credit for the good I'd done had been conveniently claimed under the town council's name.