Chapter 103

Chapter 103

David had witnessed the entire spectacle. He'd come to escort someone on his superior's orders, never expecting to walk straight into such a conflict.

Now, as Beatrice's cool gaze swept over him, his heart sank and he instinctively shrank back.

Not to mention he'd harbored some contempt for Beatrice to begin with.

Beatrice looked at him, cutting straight to the point, her tone filled with unmistakable wariness, "Now let's talk about your situation. You claim you're staff from the organizing committee, sent by a superior to escort me through the VIP entrance. I'm asking you—which superior exactly sent you?"

"Are you working with those two just now? Deliberately trying to lead me away—what's your real agenda?"

David froze instantly at her words, shaking his head like a rattle drum, "No, no, no! Ms. Sinclair, you've misunderstood! I don't even know them! We're absolutely not working together!"

He never imagined this seemingly gentle Novarian woman could be so assertive.

Not only had she left two moderately well-known designers speechless, she'd immediately turned her scrutiny on him, even suspecting him of conspiracy.

"Don't know them?" Beatrice raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Then explain why the organizing committee is giving me—and only me—this special treatment?"

"There are so many contestants here, including renowned design masters, all properly queuing for identity verification. Why should I, a newcomer, get special treatment and use the VIP entrance?"

David was sweating bullets. He certainly couldn't say that the head of The Crimson Brotherhood had made a call, and the organizing committee didn't dare refuse, which was why they'd specially arranged the VIP entrance.

If he said that, it would cause an even bigger uproar than the racial discrimination incident.

He could only bite the bullet and explain with a forced smile, "Ms. Sinclair, it really was our organizing committee's senior leadership who specifically instructed this."

"You experienced an incident before and were injured. They specifically asked me to escort you through the VIP entrance to avoid the crowded queue. It's just the organizing committee's goodwill gesture, absolutely nothing more."

"Goodwill?" Beatrice said flatly, without a trace of gratitude in her tone. "I don't need this special goodwill!"

"This competition is fair to all contestants. If others can queue, so can I. I'm competing based on my own designs, not through any backdoor privileges!"

She paused, then pointed at the queue behind her, "I will stand here and queue with all the other contestants, following the proper rules to enter! Please leave and stop bothering me!"

With that, she turned around directly, pulling Emily and John with her as she walked back to the end of the queue, as if the earlier spectacle and special treatment were trivial matters not worth mentioning.

The surrounding contestants watched her retreating figure, their eyes no longer filled with earlier contempt, but with genuine admiration.

The two Eldorian designers who'd spoken out of turn had already slunk away with their tails between their legs while no one was paying attention, lacking even the courage to queue for entry.

David stood rooted to the spot, watching Beatrice's back, unable to advance or retreat.

He could only sigh helplessly and shuffle away from the venue entrance in embarrassment.

He hurried back to the organizing committee's office area and pushed open the door to Race Director Pierre's office, his face crestfallen, "Mr. Pierre, I couldn't get it done."

Pierre was sitting at his desk holding coffee. At these words, he immediately set down his cup, his brow furrowing tightly, "Couldn't get it done? What happened? Didn't I tell you to properly escort Ms. Sinclair over?"

"I went, but Ms. Sinclair absolutely refused to use the VIP entrance." David's face was bitter as he recounted what had happened at the entrance.

Finally, he couldn't help complaining, "Ms. Sinclair simply doesn't know what's good for her. I tried everything, but she refused to come with me. She said she doesn't need special treatment and insisted on queuing with everyone else. There was nothing I could do—I couldn't exactly drag her over by force, could I?"

After hearing everything, Pierre's face broke into a bitter smile. He pressed his throbbing temples and sighed helplessly, "What do you know... That was specifically requested by Mr. Stuart himself. Now that it's not done, how am I supposed to explain this to him?"

David froze instantly. He'd only known it was ordered by a superior, but had no idea it was actually that Mr. Stuart—the one even the Luminous City police had to show respect to.

A cold sweat immediately broke out on his back, and he didn't dare utter another word of complaint.

"Alright, you can go." Pierre waved him off, in no mood for further discussion. "I'll handle this matter."

David quickly acknowledged and hurried out of the office.

Inside the office, Pierre paced restlessly for two rounds before finally picking up his phone and calling Liam.

The moment the call connected, he immediately adopted a respectful tone.

He reported the entire sequence of events, carefully adding, "Mr. Liam, I'm terribly sorry. We did our best, but Ms. Sinclair's attitude was very firm. We simply couldn't persuade her."

On the other end, Liam's face instantly fell after hearing the report, his expression turning miserable as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He'd originally thought that since Damien cared so much about Beatrice, and with so many people at the competition venue pushing and shoving in the queue, if Beatrice got bumped or something else went wrong, he'd have no way to explain it to Damien.

That's why he'd specifically contacted someone from the organizing committee to arrange the VIP entrance, hoping to spare Beatrice some hassle and keep her safe.

Who could have imagined it would backfire so spectacularly? Not only did Beatrice not appreciate it, she outright refused.

Liam suppressed the panic rising in his chest and said gravely into the phone, "Understood. This isn't your fault. Just do your job with venue security and don't let any suspicious people near Ms. Sinclair."

After hanging up, Liam stood there, so worried he felt like pulling his hair out.

When he reported this to Damien, he'd probably get an earful.

But at this point, there was no hiding it.

Steeling himself, he turned and headed toward the VIP viewing room where Damien was located.

Liam pushed open the door and entered, speaking cautiously, "Mr. Stuart."

Damien sat on the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window, his gaze fixed on the venue entrance below. Hearing the address, he looked up lazily, "What is it? Why so flustered?"

Liam swallowed and forced himself to speak, "Mr. Stuart, I need to report something. Ms. Sinclair, she... rejected the VIP entrance I arranged..."

Damien's hand paused mid-motion, a flash of surprise crossing his smoke-blue eyes. He turned to look at Liam, eyebrow slightly raised, "What VIP entrance?"

Liam's heart sank, "Well... I thought that with so many people entering for the competition today, all that pushing and shoving in the queue, I was worried Ms. Sinclair might get jostled, or that something else might go wrong, so I... I contacted someone from the organizing committee to arrange a VIP entrance."

"I figured I'd let Ms. Sinclair enter directly through the VIP entrance without having to queue..."