"I need an inside man."
Charlotte looked up, meeting his gaze head-on. "Someone no one would ever suspect."
"You're planning to move on the night of the live broadcast?" Leo's expression grew grave, his voice dropping to a low rumble.
To drive up ratings, Leo had already made it clear that the finale would be a semi-live event. While the first half—the behind-the-scenes training—was pre-recorded, everything else would be broadcast live to the world.
A live broadcast was the one thing Leo's PR team couldn't spin and his editors couldn't cut. Emily knew this perfectly well; it was exactly why she'd chosen the finale to air the video.
Charlotte nodded. "Tonight, I'm hacking into the live server for the finale to set everything in motion."
"I'm the better play here," Leo countered, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. "If nothing else, you and I—we're built the same way. We're on the same side."
She reached out, gently smoothing a stray wrinkle on his lapel. "Which is exactly why I want you by my side in the trenches, not watching me from behind a cold screen."
Leo's eyes darkened with intensity.
He lunged downward. This time, he didn't miss. His lips locked onto hers, kissing her with a raw, possessive hunger.
It was a kiss that served as both a release of power and a reward for her brilliance. He wasn't punishing her anymore; he was marking her as his.
When he finally pulled away, his thumb traced her lower lip. His voice was husky, vibrating with a raw, electric charge.
Breathless, Charlotte pushed him back. "One more thing."
She took the ten-million-dollar check and placed it quietly on the desk. "This belongs to you."
Shadows settled over Leo's features. There was something predatory in his gaze now, a hunger that made her skin prickle.
Charlotte held her ground, her gaze clear and unwavering. "I took Caleb's advance to cover my grandmother's bills. What I owe Caleb is work. I owe you for your protection, not your charity."
"But I won't let you use money to hold my family or my life hostage."
She was drawing a hard line between money and power. She would accept Leo's intensity and his possessiveness, but she wasn't buying into his control—the kind he thought he could purchase.
Leo grabbed her wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he might crush the bone.
"You'd rather owe another man your work, you'd rather drive me to the brink of madness, just to refuse my protection? Are you that desperate to run away from me?" His voice was ragged, thick with suppressed agony.
"I'm not running," she said, meeting his fury. "I'm teaching you how to possess me the right way. Don't use your wallet. Use your power."
With that, she turned and walked out of the office, leaving the air thick with the sharp, invisible tang of gunpowder.
[WARNING! Leo's possessiveness: Maxed out!] [Ding! Leo's Affection +20%, Capture Progress 80%! 'Power Conspiracy' achieved!]
As she cleared the doorway, She rounded the corner and nearly ran into Evan. He watched her silently, his eyes immediately landing on the faint, reddened flush of her lips.
A flash of pain crossed his face, but he buried it quickly. "Did Leo give you money, or a promise?"
"Both," Charlotte said, trying to steady her breathing.
Evan stepped closer. The guilt in his eyes had been replaced by the manic obsession of a perfectionist artist. "I can't give you money or power. But I can give you the truth."
He pulled a business card from his pocket. On the back, a time and place were scribbled: Rooftop, 12:00 PM.
"Find me on the rooftop tomorrow during the promo shoot. I want to finish the project we started. I'm going to take a series of photos of you—nothing but pure, unfiltered freedom. Consider it your... suit of armor against your enemies."
"Okay," Charlotte whispered.
[Ding! Evan's Affection +30%, Capture Progress 65%!]
Late that night, back at the dorms.
Charlotte's fingers flew across the keys.
She was burying a logic bomb deep within the source code of the live broadcast server. It was a trigger-based script: the moment it detected the specific "digital fingerprint" of the raw hotel video, the 'bomb' would detonate. It would intercept the edited footage Emily tried to play and swap it for the comprehensive evidence package Charlotte had meticulously prepared.
Charlotte watched the "Deployment Successful" prompt blink on her screen and a sharp, humorless laugh escaped her lips."Think you've got the upper hand, Emily?"
"No. You're just the trigger for my Skynet."
Everything was ready.
However, she knew the S-grade firewall had a manual override. When the bomb was triggered, a prompt for 'Emergency Protocol S-03' would pop up on the master control console in the broadcasting booth.
Leo would be at the judges' table that night, which meant she needed someone she could trust to be in that booth to hit 'Authorize.'
Her gaze fell on the business card sitting next to her. Evan.
To keep Emily from getting suspicious, Charlotte deliberately acted like she was struggling during rehearsals.
Another dull impact echoed through the room. She'd lost count of how many times she'd "fallen" today. Panting, she braced herself against the floor, crouching low.
"Charlotte! Are you okay?"
Emily, who was just finishing up, walked past the rehearsal room and gasped loudly. She knelt down and offered Charlotte a supportive squeeze that felt just a little too tight, her face full of concern. "Don't push yourself too hard."
Then, Emily leaned in, her face twisting into a hideous grin in the camera's blind spot. "After all... you'll be out of the game soon enough."
With that, Emily slipped her "Saint" mask back on and beamed. "We're heading back to the dorms first. See ya!"
Charlotte waited until the entire floor was empty before standing up with a cold smirk. Now, the real training could begin.
Just then, a cold soda can skittered across the floor, bumping into her heel.
She looked up.
Jax was standing in the doorway, looking thoroughly annoyed.
"Hey, are you trying to kill yourself or what?" he snapped. "What's with you lately? Your dancing is a total train wreck—even worse than day one!"
Charlotte didn't argue. She picked up the soda, popped the tab, and took a long, deep swig.
"Thanks," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
Jax sat down beside her, and for the first time, he didn't have a biting remark ready. He looked at her messy hair and the bruises on her knees, then asked clumsily, "Did... something happen?"
Charlotte didn't answer. She just took another sip.
When she didn't speak, Jax let out a frustrated "Tch!" "Fine! Don't tell me then!"
He walked to the door, then paused.
"Hey, Charlotte."
"Yeah?"
"I don't care what you're going through." Jax turned back, his blonde hair looking warm under the studio lights. "You better take first place in the finale, or else."
"Why?"
"Because I taught you!" he barked. "No student of mine takes second place! It'd make me look like a loser!"
He stormed off.
Half an hour later, Charlotte's phone went into a frenzy.
Her Instagram blew up.
[Go Charlotte! Jax's Global Fanbase is here to back you for the finale!] [Our boss says you have to debut at Center, or he'll embarrass me!] [Don't be scared, honey! We've got the finale votes on lockdown! Consider the finale votes handled!]
Jax, that stubborn "tsundere" brat, had used his own massive fan empire to mobilize an army for her finale.
Reading the wave of warm messages, her eyes stung with unshed tears.
She sent Jax a quick WeChat: "Thanks."
Jax replied instantly: "Shut up! Get back to practice! You better take first place, or you're toast!"