Chapter 73

Chapter 73
That morning, at Damian's company headquarters, the atmosphere was different from usual. The staff looked more energized, as if a fresh breeze had just entered through a long-closed window.

Damian walked into the boardroom, his suit neat, his face full of confidence. Several directors sat in a row, looking at him with mixed expressions of relief and disbelief.

“Good morning,” Damian opened the meeting, his voice calm but steady.

“Mr. Damian, we just got confirmation,” said one of the directors. “The new investor has officially injected funds. We can breathe easier starting this month.”

Damian nodded. “How much is the total investment?”

“Eight trillion, in the initial stage.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly. He knew that number wasn’t small, and he also knew... it didn’t come without a price.

“Who introduced this investor?” asked Damian, though he already knew the answer.

One of the PR staff sitting in the corner of the room raised a hesitant hand. “Mrs. Isabella, Mr. Damian. She presented our company to the investor. She said... they’re old acquaintances.”

Damian turned his head, staring out the window. He hadn’t expected Isabella to get investors.

Elsewhere, in a magnificent and quiet five-star hotel, Isabella sat at the dressing table, wearing a sheer black dress that molded to her curves with precision. She polished her lips slowly, then looked at her reflection with a calculating smile.

Her cell phone rang. The name “Mr. Harmes” was displayed on the screen.

“Yes, Mr. Har?” she greeted sweetly.

“I’m already in the room. 1703. I have the champagne ready, as you requested.”

Isabella chuckled. “Patience, Mr. Har. I will not break my promise. We agreed—money first, then enjoy my body.”

“I’ve already transferred it. The proof of transfer has been sent via email.”

Isabella took the other phone, opened the email, then smiled with satisfaction when she saw the bank notification.

“Alright,” she said softly. “Wait for me. I’ll come in ten minutes. Don’t fall asleep.”

“How could I sleep when I’m waiting for you?” Mr. Harmes laughed crisply from the other side.

Isabella hung up the phone. She stood up, smoothed her dress, then walked to the door with slow but confident steps. At the door, she paused, taking a deep breath.

“It’s just a tool,” she whispered to herself. “Just this once. After this, I can have it all.”

She opened the door and disappeared down the long, deserted hotel hallway.



Meanwhile, in his office, Damian sat alone. He opened the same email—from the investor. At the bottom was a name that made him almost slam the laptop shut.

Sent on recommendation: Isabella Laroche.

Damian leaned back, closing his eyes. A bad feeling haunted his chest.

“Isabella, why did you so easily get the funds from Mr. Harmes?”

Meanwhile, in a studio room, the atmosphere was quiet and tense. The lights were bright, the camera ready to point at one spot: Elena. Sitting quietly with minimalist makeup, her face looked tired but determined. Beside her sat a middle-aged man with thick glasses and a gray suit—Dr. Sam Primus, a forensic digital analysis expert.

“Ready, Miss Elena?” a crew member asked from behind the camera.

Elena simply nodded. She turned briefly to Dr. Sam, who replied with a slow nod.

“Recording begins in three... two... one...”

The ‘ON AIR’ light flashed red.

Elena took a breath. “I am Elena Laroche. Today, I would like to clarify a video that has been widely circulated—a video that has defamed me, and worse, left many people feeling aggrieved and angry.”

She paused, holding back her emotions. “I know, in the eyes of some of you, there may be no one who can defend me. But today, I brought someone who will explain, technically and scientifically... that the video is an edit. That video is not the truth.”

Dr. Sam stepped forward slightly, nodding at the camera. “I am Dr. Sam, a digital forensics expert. I have analyzed the video in question, and from the results I have gathered, I can confirm: the video has been manipulated. The frames are inconsistent, the lighting and shadows—which should be natural—are not aligned. There are parts of the frame that have been replaced, and the sound has been reinserted.”

Elena continued in an almost trembling voice, “This isn’t just about me. It’s about how we can be so easily deceived. I’m not perfect, I have many faults, but this time I’m innocent.”

But not even a minute after the live video went online on various media channels, the comment section had already exploded.

“Ah, a paid expert.”

“The bitch must have paid Dr. Sam.”

“Clarification garbage.”

“Don’t bring in science to cover up your own rot.”

Outside the studio, the sound of shouting began to be heard from a group of people who had gathered in front of the building since morning. They carried posters that read “DON’T LIE TO US, ELENA!” and “SHOW YOURSELF, DON’T HIDE BEHIND SCIENCE!”

Nathan, who had been watching from the back screen, stood up. “We need to get out now,” he told one of the staff.

There was a loud knock on the studio glass from outside. The shouting was getting closer.

“Quick, get Miss Elena to the car,” Nathan said as he ran to the recording room.

Elena was still sitting motionless when Nathan tugged on her arm. “Come on, come with me.”

“Do they really doubt my clarification?” whispered Elena, her eyes not leaving the laptop screen where the comments section continued to fill with abuse.

“You have to calm down. We can solve this problem.”

They passed through the back hallway of the studio. Dr. Sam was briefly held back by a crowd of waiting journalists, but a security guard managed to break the line.

Once in the basement parking lot, Nathan opened the car door quickly.

“Get in, now!”

Elena got in and immediately sat in the back seat, her body shaking. Nathan followed from the other side, sat in the front, then gave the driver a signal.

As soon as the car pulled out, the shouting started again. Some people were hitting the glass, throwing plastic bottles, some even tried to block the car.

“I’m tired, Nathan.
When will this be over?” asked Elena softly.

Nathan turned his head slightly, his face tense. “You have to be patient. What matters is that there are still people who believe in you.”

Meanwhile, in hotel room 1703, the lights had dimmed. Mr. Harmes sat on the sofa with a satisfied face, sipping a glass of champagne.

Isabella sat on the side of the bed, looking at the old man blankly.

“You’re wonderful, Miss Isabella,” Mr. Harmes said with a chuckle.

Isabella only nodded. “The money is in. That’s all that matters.”

“Why are you so eager to help Damian’s company?” asked Mr. Harmes, looking at her sharply. “Do you want revenge on Elena? Or... do you have other plans?”

Isabella smiled faintly. “I just want to be queen. And there is no kingdom without a throne.”

Isabella stood up, put her thin black dress back on, and walked to the balcony. From above, she could see the hustle and bustle of the city. Millions of lights, but everything felt empty.

“As soon as all this is over... I’ll change the game,” she said quietly.

Mr. Harmes approached, placing his hand on Isabella’s shoulder. “And I
will be on your side.”

Isabella turned her head slowly, smiling coldly. “We’ll see, Mr. Har. Soon, I will be the queen—not Elena.”