Chapter170 As Long as Miranda Didn't Show Up, She Would Be the Winner
Inside the venue.
"Next up, representing Lancaster Group, Miss Ariana."
Ariana had deliberately worn a white Chanel haute couture skirt suit today, her makeup flawless and refined.
She rose gracefully and walked onto the stage, speaking confidently about her project results, her face full of self-assurance.
She had paid a fortune to have this speech polished, and even her uncle had praised her for it.
After a few minutes, the presentation ended to applause.
As Ariana left the stage, she deliberately took a detour past Lisa, letting out a contemptuous laugh in a voice only the two of them could hear. "What's wrong? Where's your precious Miranda? Don't tell me she chickened out and didn't dare to show up?"
Lisa trembled with rage, gripping her folder so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Don't get too cocky!"
"Ha, if I'm not cocky, who should be?" Ariana covered her mouth and laughed, her eyes full of vicious delight. "I bet right now, your beloved Miranda is somewhere 'enjoying' her life."
With that, she turned and went back to her seat.
As long as Miranda didn't show up, she would be the only winner of this competition.
As for that bitch...
Ariana sneered inwardly. In Zron's hands, it was anyone's guess whether she was even still alive.
Miranda deserved everything she got.
If she hadn't deliberately told Harrison about her criminal father, Harrison wouldn't have grown cold toward her.
So Miranda brought this on herself. She couldn't blame anyone for what was coming to her.
The host took the stage again, his voice carrying through the microphone across the venue. "Next up, Miranda's team project group."
The team members behind Lisa asked anxiously, "Lisa, what do we do? Should we forfeit?"
"We're not forfeiting."
She stood up. "I'll present Miranda's research findings in her place."
She took a deep breath, straightened her clothes, and began walking toward the stage with heavy steps.
Just then.
A cool but firm hand landed on her shoulder without warning.
Lisa froze for a moment. When she turned and saw who it was, her eyes instantly reddened.
Standing behind her was Miranda in a sharp black suit.
Miranda wasn't wearing the dust-covered clothes from before. Instead, she wore a brand new, impeccably tailored haute couture suit that added an edge of fierceness to her somewhat pale complexion.
Though her hair was simply pinned back with a few loose strands falling free, her eyes were strikingly bright.
"Miranda!"
Lisa's voice shook with emotion. "You're back! Are you okay?"
The other team members crowded around her, looking at her like she was their anchor.
Miranda gave them a reassuring smile and shook her head gently.
"I'm fine."
She had come in through the back entrance, avoiding all the media and prying eyes.
Clifton had sent his assistant with these clothes along the way.
She had quickly treated her wounds in the car and changed out of her disheveled outfit.
"Give me the microphone." Miranda patted Lisa's shoulder and took the still-warm microphone from her hands, her tone calm.
"Leave the rest to me."
That simple sentence was like a calming pill, instantly soothing the panic in everyone's hearts.
Lisa nodded and stepped aside. "Miranda, you've got this!"
Miranda turned and walked up the steps one by one.
When that cool, stunning face appeared on the big screen, the noisy venue fell silent for a moment.
In the front row VIP seats, Ariana was looking down at her phone, barely paying attention as she glanced up.
The next second.
Her pupils contracted sharply, and she looked like she had seen a ghost. Her phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a clatter.
How was this possible?
Ariana stared at the woman on stage in disbelief.
Hadn't Zron taken Miranda? How could she be here now?
Countless thoughts crashed through Ariana's mind. The shock made her lose all composure, and she shot up from her seat. The chair scraped against the floor with a piercing screech.
The commotion was loud enough to draw stares from everyone around her.
Even Miranda on stage paused from adjusting her microphone and looked down at her.
Their eyes met.
Miranda's gaze was cold, like a knife stabbing straight into Ariana's heart.
A mocking smile curved at the corner of her lips as she spoke into the microphone, her voice cool and clear.
"Why so worked up, Ariana?"
"Are you that surprised to see me standing here?"
At those words, Ariana's whole body trembled.
She felt the curious and questioning gazes around her and suddenly snapped back to reality, realizing she had lost her composure.
This was a competition venue, surrounded by media and industry leaders. She couldn't lose control. She absolutely couldn't.
"No... nothing..."
Ariana forced a smile that looked worse than crying and said through gritted teeth, "I just... my hand slipped. I dropped my phone."
Miranda raised an eyebrow, ignored her, and turned to face the judges.
Ariana slumped back into her chair, picked up her phone from the floor, and began scrolling through it with trembling fingers.
She opened Zron's chat window and frantically sent him messages and calls.
Wasn't Miranda supposed to be in your hands? How is she back?
Answer the phone! Where the hell are you? Useless! You can't even keep one person under control!
But all her messages disappeared into a void.
Zron had gone completely silent.
Suddenly, a fear she had never experienced before crept up her spine.
What did this mean?
Ariana didn't dare think about it. She could only keep telling herself: It's fine. This has nothing to do with me. Zron did everything.
Everything was done so secretly. That abandoned clinic had no surveillance. Even if Miranda reported it to the police, there would be no evidence.
As long as she denied everything, who could touch her?
She was going to be the future Mrs. Whitmore. Who would dare lay a finger on her?
With that thought, her racing heart calmed down a little. But her eyes remained fixed on Miranda on stage, burning with hatred, as if she wanted to bore holes through her.
On stage.
Miranda wasn't affected by the earlier interruption.
She stood at center stage, with complex data models and demonstration animations scrolling on the big screen behind her.
"Distinguished judges, good day."
"I'm Miranda, and today I'm presenting..."
She needed no script, no teleprompter.
Every piece of data, every core algorithm, every innovation was rooted in her mind.
She was confident, composed, and professional.
The judges, who had seemed somewhat disinterested at first, gradually became serious as they listened to her clear and insightful explanations. By the end, they looked amazed.
Especially Sofia, seated in the center.
She pushed up her glasses and watched the woman speaking so eloquently on stage, her eyes showing undisguised admiration.
This project's data was flawless. It was the work of a genius.
And there was something about this woman that was impossible to ignore. A resilience.
Like a wild rose growing on the edge of a cliff, battered by wind and rain, yet blooming even more brilliantly.
Even from this distance, Sofia could see that Miranda's hand holding the clicker was steady and strong, without a trace of nervousness.