Chapter 223 Disqualification
In the photo, Isadora's agent Mira was handing a thick envelope to a blonde man sitting in a VIP room at an upscale club.
The entire venue fell dead silent.
Garth pulled out a document from his pocket and held it up clearly to the nearest camera.
"This foreign gentleman is a well-known 'white glove' in the industry, specializing in handling various sensitive offshore fund transfers for clients. And one of his encrypted wallets is the source of the vote-rigging funds."
"The photo was taken last night at eleven o'clock at Starlight Lounge. We have good reason to believe the cash in that envelope was the down payment for this vote-rigging operation."
The smugness, excitement, and malice on Isadora's face froze instantly.
She couldn't understand at all.
She had used the most trusted channels, the most covert methods, even spent a fortune hiring professional middlemen to handle the operation—how could Stefan's people have obtained such damning evidence in such a short time?
This was impossible!
The color drained from her face at a visible speed, turning pale and sickly.
"No... this can't be."
She instinctively stepped back. Her high heel twisted, and she stumbled backward awkwardly, nearly falling to the ground.
"Nothing's impossible."
Stefan's voice was completely cold, each word cutting like ice.
"Ms. Penrose, you played this move quite well."
"First, you spent big money to rig votes for Amelia, creating ironclad evidence of cheating that Amelia couldn't deny. Then you stood up in the name of justice to stir up public opinion, using the rules to kick out the real champion."
"I have to say, this reverse operation of yours is far more valuable than any of those designs you drew yourself."
Cecilia looked at the fund flow chart, then at Isadora, whose face had turned pale and whose whole body was trembling.
Cecilia turned and walked toward the now-tottering Isadora, her tone carrying a hint of pity and mockery.
"Isadora, you're truly pathetic."
"To beat me, you'd rather spend millions in dirty money to buy me votes than spend a few hundred dollars to learn how to be a decent human being."
"No! This is slander! This is fabricated!" Isadora completely panicked, her voice shrill and breaking.
She rushed forward trying to grab the laptop, but was blocked by a bodyguard behind Garth.
"I didn't! Why would I rig votes for her! Am I crazy?" Isadora screamed hysterically, her makeup looking somewhat distorted under the lights. "Director Pena! This must be Stefan's doing! He's a capitalist—what evidence can't he fabricate? He's covering for Amelia!"
"You say this is fabricated? Fine." Cecilia pulled out her phone from her pocket and showed the screen. "Just now, I had a friend check the transaction records of this account. Besides the payment for hiring people to rig votes, five minutes ago, this account received a refund."
Cecilia stepped forward, pointing her phone screen at the camera.
"The teams you hired crashed the server by rigging votes too fast, so they refunded you five hundred thousand dollars in service fees. And that money is now sitting quietly in your studio's corporate account."
A mocking smile curved Cecilia's lips. "What, do I need to go to the bank and pull your statement to paste it on your forehead?"
The evidence was overwhelming.
If the IP tracking could still be dismissed as technical fabrication, the real-time bank refund record was something Isadora simply couldn't deny.
Isadora went limp, collapsing to the ground.
I'm finished.
I thought I was making a desperate gamble, using "Echo's" reputation for a reverse operation—as long as Amelia was disqualified for cheating, the championship would naturally pass to me.
I even had PR statements ready, planning to portray myself as a "warrior fighting against capitalist manipulation"... but I never calculated that Stefan would move so fast, and I never expected that damn company would refund the money at this moment!
Saul's face was dark as a storm cloud.
What should have been a good grand finale had turned into such a scandal—this was deliberately putting the production team in an awkward position.
"Isadora." Saul's voice was ice cold. "Given that you maliciously manipulated competition data, framed others, with extremely vile conduct, seriously violating the competition's spirit of fair play and legal regulations."
He took a deep breath and announced the final verdict:
"The production team has decided to immediately disqualify Isadora from the competition and blacklist her across all platforms! Furthermore, we will formally sue you and your studio, holding you accountable for the enormous damage to the show's reputation and for deliberately sabotaging fair business competition."
Hearing the word "sue," Isadora's head snapped up, her eyes full of fear.
This competition had massive investment—the penalty fees and reputation damage compensation combined would be an astronomical figure.
The little money she'd made in Valeria—she couldn't possibly afford it!
"No, please don't..." Isadora, forgetting all dignity, crawled toward Saul and grabbed at his pant leg. "Director Pena, I know I was wrong! I just lost my head for a moment! Please don't sue me, I'll go bankrupt! I'll go to jail!"
Saul kicked her hand away in disgust and waved at the nearby security. "Drag her out. Don't let her be an eyesore here."
Two burly men immediately stepped forward, grabbing Isadora from both sides.
"Amelia! Amelia, please say something for me!" Seeing Saul unmoved, Isadora turned to Cecilia for help, crying with snot and tears streaming down her face. "We were colleagues after all, I was just desperate! I shouldn't have been jealous of you, please let me off this once."
Cecilia stood there, looking down at the once-arrogant Isadora.
"Colleagues?" Cecilia savored the word lightly, her eyes showing not a trace of emotion. "When you plagiarized my designs but accused me of plagiarism, did you think about us being colleagues? Just now when you wanted to destroy my reputation, did you think about what I would face if your scheme succeeded?"
Cecilia turned around, leaving Isadora only a resolute back.
"Adults need to learn to pay for their own greed."
Isadora's desperate wails grew fainter as the security dragged her away, finally disappearing at the end of the corridor.
The venue fell into a brief awkward silence.
Host Quinton, being very experienced, quickly adjusted his state, putting his professional smile back on his face, trying to ease the atmosphere.
"Although we had a little hiccup, this proves that real gold fears no fire!" Quinton raised his microphone with passion. "Amelia has withstood the most rigorous test with her ability and character! Let's give her a round of applause!"
Thunderous applause erupted from the audience—this time, it was genuine.
"Now then," Quinton smiled mysteriously, his gaze turning to the big screen.
"Besides the championship, I'm sure what everyone's most curious about is that highly anticipated 'champion's wish'!"