Chapter 136 Wishing You a Successful Performance
"Shit! Check Twitter, everyone! The winner's already been decided?"
A contestant's shocked cry rang out, and that shock instantly infected everyone around them.
Phone screens lit up one after another in the dim waiting area.
"The photos are out! It's that number 108, backstage with Stefan, the biggest investor. They look way too intimate!"
"No wonder she could submit first—so that's what's going on! Disgusting!"
"We busted our asses staying up late preparing for so long, just to be props for some capitalist's mistress?"
Contemptuous and angry stares, coalescing into tangible malice, all turned toward Cecilia in unison.
What had started as a small disturbance among contestants, catalyzed by the invisible fuse of the internet, instantly evolved into a public trial against her—broadcast live across the nation.
Cecilia's brow furrowed slightly.
She didn't even need to look at anyone's phone. Just listening to the undisguised malicious speculation around her, she had already pieced together the whole picture.
She'd been set up.
Using the oldest and most vicious method—a sex scandal.
This was the fastest, most effective way to destroy a woman's reputation.
At the same time, Stefan's assistant Garth hurried over, leaning down to rapidly report something in Stefan's ear.
Stefan's face showed no obvious reaction, but in those deep eyes, a flash of cold light suddenly passed through.
He waved Garth away, then turned his head. "A minor problem. The PR team is already handling it. The photo was taken with a misleading angle—technically very easy to clarify. You don't need to worry about anything. Just focus on preparing for the next round."
But Cecilia shook her head.
"No need." Her voice was gentle, yet unusually clear in the noisy environment, carrying a strange penetrating power.
Stefan paused, looking at her.
In Cecilia's clear eyes, there was no panic or grievance, only a kind of detached indifference that saw through everything.
"Clarify?" she asked back, her tone carrying a barely detectable mockery. "Do you think those willing to believe this photo will care about the truth?"
"What they want isn't the truth—just a target to attack me, an outlet to vent their jealousy and dissatisfaction."
Stefan's eyebrow twitched slightly. He didn't argue.
She was even more perceptive than he'd imagined.
"Deal with this, and there'll be a next time," Cecilia continued. "Since whoever's behind this made their move, they won't have prepared just this one trick. This time it's photos—next time it could be fabricated chat records, or even worse rumors."
She knew these tactics all too well, familiar with them down to her bones, which sent chills through her.
In her past life, Blair had used exactly this kind of ambiguous "evidence"—forged medical reports—to repeatedly create rifts between her and Rufus, nailing Cecilia to the pillar of shame.
Back then, Cecilia had desperately explained each time, tearfully begging to be trusted, only to receive deeper disgust and more cruel torment from Rufus.
But now, she was no longer that Cecilia.
Cecilia had died in that towering fire. Along with her pitiful heart that craved love and recognition, burned to ash.
Now she was Amelia.
An avenger who lived only for herself.
"Let them talk." A faint, cold smile appeared on Cecilia's lips. "I don't care about these rumors."
"Then what do you want?" Stefan's interest was thoroughly piqued. He looked into her eyes, trying to probe deeper. "Swallow your anger and wait for the storm to pass? That's not your style."
"No." Cecilia's answer was crisp and decisive.
Her gaze swept past Stefan, across those gloating, pointing faces around them, her eyes showing no anger, only an indifference like looking down at ants.
"I want them to make an even bigger fuss."
She turned her head back to Stefan, those beautiful eyes flashing with a calm yet cruel light.
"Mr. Hensley, didn't you want to see a good show?"
"Well, the stage is set now."
"I don't care about reputation, because to me, it's just an outer garment that can be discarded anytime. The harsher they curse, the wider it spreads, the more attention this competition will get."
"You're right." Stefan nodded, adding, "The higher the buzz, the higher my return on investment. However..."
He changed tack, leaning forward slightly, closing the distance between them.
"Are you sure you can handle it? Public opinion can lift someone up, but it can also tear them apart in an instant. This is an extreme test of a designer's psychological state."
"Is that so?" Cecilia laughed lightly, her laughter full of self-mockery and unbreakable coldness. "Mr. Hensley, you might not understand my past. Compared to what I've been through, these insults don't even count as an appetizer."
Her eyes were deep, hiding a past he couldn't understand—one of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Stefan gazed at her. After a few seconds, he laughed lowly, full of undisguised appreciation and interest.
He realized he had still underestimated her.
She wasn't some delicate flower that needed protection to bloom.
She was a poisonous flower blooming in the abyss—toxic and beautiful.
Any force trying to destroy her would ultimately only become nourishment for her growth.
"Alright."
Stefan agreed with one word, brief and to the point.
He respected her decision and eagerly anticipated the "spectacular" scene she described.
"However," Stefan's tone became playful, "aren't you curious who's making trouble for you behind the scenes?"
Cecilia's gaze swept lightly over a guilty, dodging figure not far away.
"Besides her, who else could it be."
Isadora thought she was hiding well, but the uncontrollable satisfaction and venom had long been exposed through her clenched fists and reddened eyes.
"What do you plan to do?" Stefan followed Cecilia's line of sight, understanding immediately. "Need me to 'handle' her? I have plenty of ways to deal with this kind of clown—guarantee she won't be able to stay in the design world."
"No need." Cecilia withdrew her gaze, her voice cold. "She came after me. I'll deal with her myself."
She paused, adding another sentence.
"Besides, I still need her to keep making trouble."
Only if Isadora made a bigger fuss would Rufus get angrier, and this show would become more spectacular.
Cecilia wanted everyone to see how Isadora—this chief designer Rufus had paid big money to bring back—would be crushed beyond recognition on a professional stage by her, Cecilia, a non-professional designer.
Stefan completely understood her plan.
She didn't want to smooth things over.
She wanted a public execution.
She wanted to use absolute strength, in front of everyone, to grind all doubts and slander, along with the mastermind behind them, into the dirt.
Her ruthlessness made even him feel a chill.
And made him find her even more interesting.
"In that case," Stefan straightened up, resuming that elegant, composed businessman demeanor, "I wish you a successful performance."