Emily stormed back onto the stage, snatching the microphone right out of the host's hand!
Screech! A sharp burst of feedback pierced through the roar of the crowd. It was a live broadcast—the entire internet was watching in shock.
I'm sorry, Jerry. But before the votes are in," Emily said, tears streaming down her face—a performance worthy of an Oscar. "The world deserves to know the truth!
"Emily! Calm down!" The host tried to wrestle the mic back.
"No!" Emily shrieked. "If I don't speak up, Charlotte—this total fraud! She slept her way to the top—steal the title that belongs to people who actually have talent!"
Fraud! Casting couch!
The moment those explosive words left Emily's lips, the stadium erupted. The comment section was blowing up with [???] and [!!!].
"Charlotte!" Emily turned, glaring at her with a look of tragic indignation. "Do you dare let everyone see what really happened that night at the hotel?"
Under the harsh glare of the spotlights, Charlotte looked back at her with a deadpan expression, her eyes cold as if she were watching a total dumpster fire.
"Fine, you're too scared!" Emily assumed she had won. The greed and madness in her eyes spiraled out of control.
She turned to the cameras, then to Leo sitting below the stage, and let out a final, primal roar. "I know you'll try to spin this! I know you'll edit the footage! It doesn't matter—I have a backup!"
She screamed into the mic, "Play the video! Right now! Roll the tape! Let the world see your true colors!"
The massive LED main screen in the arena suddenly went black.
Time seemed to freeze. Over a hundred million people online held their breath simultaneously.
Three seconds later, the screen flickered to life.
It wasn't an ad. It wasn't a music video. It was a grainy, green-tinted night-vision spy-cam video.
[Holy crap!!! They actually played it!] [Is Starlight insane? This is a live broadcast disaster!]
The camera shook as it focused on a hotel bed.
Fwip. The covers were pulled back.
A man's face appeared in the center of the frame—it was Leo. His eyes were tightly shut; he was clearly in a deep, drug-induced sleep. Then, the lens panned over to the figure beside him: a girl with flushed cheeks and long, disheveled hair.
Then came the "fatal" blow. Thanks to malicious editing, the clip cut to a close-up of Leo turning over, his arm landing heavily across Charlotte's blanket. His body leaned forward, making it look like they were engaged in an unspeakable, intimate act.
"Ugh—disgusting!" "Cancel Charlotte! Get her out of here!" "Shameless bastards!"
The tide turned in under three seconds. A tsunami of vitriol surged through the arena. On stage, listening to the deafening roar of the hate and seeing Charlotte seemingly buried in the dirt, Emily's lips curled into a twisted, ecstatic smile.
Backstage Control Room
In the half-second that Emily was savoring her victory, the Assistant Director grinned, his finger hovering over the 'Stop' button. He wanted to sear that ambiguous image into the viewers' minds forever.
Ping! Critical data anomaly detected! Emergency Protocol S-03 triggered! Manual authorization required!
A blood-red dialog box suddenly popped up, locking down the entire control console!
"Shut it down! Kill the feed!" The AD yelled, clicking the mouse frantically.
Just as his finger was about to hit the keyboard, A hand clamped onto his wrist, hard enough to snap bone. He looked up, meeting Evan's ice-cold stare.
"You..."
"This show," Evan whispered, "is just getting started."
Without a moment's hesitation, his other hand slammed down on the blood-red "Authorize" key.
Zzzzt!
On stage, the massive main screen suddenly crackled with the sound of a sharp electrical current.
The screen... split!
Under the gaze of a hundred million people, the left side of the screen was frozen on the image of Leo leaning over Charlotte.
But on the right side, after a "whoosh" of black-and-green code cascaded down, a high-definition bank transfer receipt appeared!
[Transfer Details]
Recipient: Adam Briggs (Assistant Director)
Sender: Emily
Amount: $500,000.00
Memo: Final video payment
The stadium: "..." The live chat: "..."
It was as if someone had grabbed the entire audience by the throat. The cursing stopped dead.
"No... no..." The smile froze on Emily's face. She turned deathly pale, pointing a shaking finger at Charlotte. "That's a lie! That's fake! You framed me! You're faking the evidence!"
Charlotte smiled. "Photoshop? Emily, once my logic bomb goes off, there's no stopping it."
She glanced up at the screen. "Look. Here come the receipts."
Flash! The right screen switched again.
Charlotte's trojan horse began opening a folder titled "Evidence Pack." Inside was an endless stream of chat logs and transfer screenshots. Charlotte's "Skynet" began auto-playing the truth for the world to see.
Exhibit A: [Chat log between Marianne and Emily]
Emily: "Auntie, that bitch is in the way. Is there any way to get rid of her?"
Marianne: "Get her to the hotel. I'll take care of it."
Exhibit B: [Chat log between Emily and Hotel Staff]
Emily: "Is the incense lit?"
Staff: "Done."
Emily:" Make sure the curtains are closed; I need the night-vision to catch everything."
Exhibit C: [Marianne vs. The Paparazzi]
Marianne: "Make them look intimate. If they don't touch, use forced perspective!"
Paparazzi: "Don't worry. We'll make sure Charlotte is ruined."
Exhibit D: [Financial Statements for 'Crossbridge Capital']
Expenses: Bot accounts, Trending topic purchases, Black PR campaigns against Director Leo... Total: $12 million.
The arena went dead silent. One receipt was a fluke. But this? This was a paper trail to hell. From the staged hotel room to the bankrolled paparazzi—it was a full-blown assassination attempt orchestrated by Emily and Marianne.
"No... that's not..." Emily collapsed to the floor as she watched her ugly crimes broadcast to the world.
Below the stage, Leo watched Charlotte's queen-like mastery of the situation, his eyes full of obsession and pride.
Charlotte walked over to the shivering Emily and looked down at her. "You thought that video only had a first half?"
She raised her mic, her voice cool and clear, reaching every corner of the arena. "I don't think we've seen the whole 'truth' yet, have we?"
"Keep the video on the left... playing."
Static—
On the left screen, the frozen image of "Leo pressing down on Charlotte" suddenly began to move.
The audience leaned in, their eyes wide, their breath hitching.