Chapter 9: Ferocious Visage

Anastasia was completely stressed out over the account issue and had no idea she'd already become infamous on the school forum.

Just then, her phone vibrated.

It was a call from her thesis advisor, Garrett King.

Anastasia swiped to answer. "Mr. King, what's up?"

"Anastasia, what's going on with you?" Garrett sounded exhausted. "The school just received several anonymous complaint letters saying you committed academic misconduct, and with all that chaos on the forum, the department heads have already come to me about it."

"Mr. King, I didn't—"

"Right now it's not about whether you did it or not." Garrett cut her off and continued, "The damage is already done. Under pressure from public opinion, the department has decided to suspend your thesis project qualification until the investigation is complete."

"You don't need to attend next Monday's mid-term review."

That statement hit like a hammer, and Anastasia's heart sank.

The competition slot, her thesis project, her degree.

The Stafford Family's move was targeting everything most important to her.

"Mr. King, I'll provide evidence to prove my innocence—"

"Anastasia, I recognize your talent, but this has blown up too big. It's not something I alone can handle." Garrett sighed again. "Just rest at home for now. Don't come to school."

With that, the call ended.

As the phone screen dimmed, Anastasia had no time for self-pity.

The thesis suspension was now set in stone. The only card left to turn things around was The Celestial Loop.

She found the office number on The Celestial Loop's official website and dialed.

The call didn't go through. Anastasia hung up and redialed.

But the result was the same every time.

Her account password had been changed, and her identity information was probably already going through the modification process.

Since the Stafford Family had made their move, they would definitely block all her escape routes.

In her past life, when she was helping Renee complete design projects, she'd accidentally seen some internal materials from The Celestial Loop.

On the surface, the competition was hosted by the Harmony City Arts Association, but the real money behind it came from the CEO of the Roosevelt Group, Richard Roosevelt.

In her past life, she'd had no interaction with him—only seen him once from afar at an industry summit.

From what she remembered, his presence screamed "keep away."

But now, she had no choice.

Anastasia found the direct line to the Roosevelt Group CEO's office and called.

Unfortunately, no one answered.

Anastasia had to leave a message: "I'm the designer of Feathers of Flame. I urgently need to contact Mr. Roosevelt."

After sending it, she stared at the screen, waiting for a reply.

Meanwhile, at the Roosevelt Group.

Inside the CEO's office.

Richard's slender fingers casually flipped through documents.

Light and shadow fell on his sharply defined profile, making him look even more refined and distinguished.

But the low pressure around him made people afraid to approach.

Just then, there was a knock on the office door.

Wayne entered, his tone respectful. "Mr. Roosevelt."

Richard responded: "Speak."

"The internal line has been repeatedly called by the same unknown number for the past half hour." Wayne reported. "The operator hung up several times following protocol, but the caller was very persistent and finally left a message."

"The caller claims to be the designer of Feathers of Flame and urgently needs to contact you."

At this, Richard looked up, his deep eyes showing scrutiny.

He remembered that design.

Bold style, striking natural energy—it stood out among all the conventional submissions.

Just as he was about to speak, his personal phone suddenly rang.

Richard glanced at the screen.

It was the private line from the Roosevelt Group's private hospital.

The sharp aura around him softened slightly.

He answered the call. "What is it?"

Whatever was said on the other end made Richard's brow furrow sharply, a cold look flashing in his eyes.

The temperature around him dropped suddenly.

"Grandpa's old condition flared up again? Got it, I'll head over right away."

With that, Richard hung up decisively, grabbed his suit jacket from the chair, and stood up.

Passing by Wayne, he didn't stop. "That call—ignore it."

With those words, Richard strode out of the office with long steps.

Meanwhile, Anastasia, who was still clutching her phone and waiting for her only lifeline, had no idea that her desperate message had been coldly set aside.

She waited for a long time, but there was never any response.

The hope in her heart was slowly draining away.

At the same time, at the Stafford Family home.

"Patrick, it's all done." Nolan lifted his chin with a proud look, like he'd accomplished something great. "Top trending on the forum, complaint letters submitted—Anastasia must be freaking out now."

Patrick didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the documents on the coffee table.

It was a participant change application form for The Celestial Loop. He'd pulled quite a few strings to get it from inside the organizing committee.

"Ruining her reputation isn't enough. With Anastasia's personality, the more you suppress her, the more stubborn she gets. If we let her bounce back from rock bottom, we'll be in trouble."

Nolan frowned. "So what do we do? We can't just march over to the organizers and pull her work, can we?"

"Why not?"

Patrick picked up the pen on the table and flipped to the last page of the application form.

The final field read: Family member signature.

Caleb looked up slightly. "What are you planning?"

"On the grounds that Anastasia suffers from severe mental illness and there's a dispute over the ownership of her work, as family, we're applying for her withdrawal from the competition."

Patrick wrote his name in the signature field as he spoke. "As the eldest son of the Stafford Family, I have the right to make decisions on behalf of a mentally unstable family member to protect her from embarrassing herself in public. Isn't that reason noble enough?"

"Brilliant!" Nolan showed a sinister smile. "Once she's withdrawn, no matter how good she is at arguing, she won't be able to turn this around!"

Caleb lowered his eyes, rubbed his thumb against his knee twice, opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing.

Seeing no objections, Patrick instructed: "Nolan, first thing tomorrow morning, deliver this form to the organizers. Use internal channels—don't alert the Roosevelt Group."