Chapter 241

Chapter 241
Cameron’s POV

 

The atmosphere at the press conference was as tense as a drawn bow. I stood near the edge of the third row, my gaze instinctively following Vivian on stage. She wore a dark blue suit, explaining the prospects of AI applications with a calm demeanor. Her aura of total control made my heart skip a beat.

 

Gerald sat not far from me, his eyes locked onto the stage, his focus carrying the steady resolve of a guardian.

 

"Next, I will elaborate on the integration of AI robotics and healthcare…"

 

The moment Vivian spoke, a sharp gunshot tore through the venue.

 

The air froze, followed instantly by screams and shoving. I jumped up, my heart in my throat. Several figures with blades emerged from the side door, heading straight for Vivian.

 

Quinn rushed forward to block the attack, only to be shoved aside and thrown heavily onto the marble floor. My eyes burned with rage; just as I was about to rush over, I saw Gerald spring into action like a cheetah, his movements precise and lethal, taking down the attackers in a few swift strikes. Brian followed up, slamming another thug into the wall.

 

I didn't hesitate; I grabbed a metal trash can from the corner and hurled it with precision at the last attacker still resisting.

 

As the chaos died down, Dylan arrived with a massive police force, and the scene was quickly cordoned off.

 

I stood amidst the wreckage, watching Dylan approach Vivian with hypocritical concern. Vivian’s gaze was as cold as ice, and her words, "The police arrived so quickly; I don't believe it was a coincidence," pierced through Dylan’s facade like a steel needle.

 

Vivian had twisted her ankle and left with Gerald’s support. When Brian passed Dylan, the look he gave him was cold enough to kill.

 

I looked at Dylan’s pale, rigid face, and a fire of rage surged to my head. I walked over, grabbed his collar, and dragged him into the shadows at the end of the hallway.

 

"It was Hazel, wasn't it?" I stared into his eyes, cutting straight to the point.

 

His silence was the most pathetic confession of guilt.

 

I shoved him away and stepped back, feeling nothing but disappointment. "Dylan, you are truly a fool. Even if it was Hazel, you’re still protecting her after something like this? By condoning evil, you’re destroying yourself!"

 

I took a deep breath, and even though my heart was trembling, I had to lay it out. "I’m saying this now: no matter what you choose, I will always support Vivian."

 

He was stunned, a flicker of shock crossing his eyes.

 

I dropped one final warning: "I’ve liked Vivian for a long time. So even if she doesn't pursue it, I will never let Hazel off the hook."

 

I turned and walked away, my footsteps echoing in the empty hall. Looking back, I saw Dylan standing alone in the shadows, the half-lit light outlining a self-deprecating, bitter smile.

 

He who sows evil, reaps the whirlwind. He deserved this.

 

 

 

Hazel’s POV

 

Night had fallen heavy and thick. I dragged my suitcase out the back door. Inside were the last of my cash, clothes, and the expensive necklaces Dylan had once given me—they sparkled in the dark with a biting irony, the footnote to my ridiculous life over these past few years.

 

I lowered my hat, walking hurriedly. Just as I reached for the handle of the getaway car, several beams of bright light exploded from the corner of the street.

 

Sirens tore through the silence like thunder, and the flashing red and blue lights illuminated everything in a ghostly white. A dozen officers surrounded me instantly, and a cold declaration followed: "Hazel, you are under arrest for suspected incitement of major violent crime."

 

My suitcase slid from my hand, and the clothes and that pile of priceless jewelry rolled across the ground, looking incredibly pathetic in the harsh light. I didn't struggle, letting the iron cuffs lock around my wrists. At that moment, I felt only emptiness.

 

From the alley, I heard Helen’s wailing. I saw Bruce being handcuffed by police at the side of the road; he looked much older than I remembered. Emily was curled up in a corner not far away, her shoulders shaking violently as she wept into her hands.

 

The crimes of harboring, tax evasion, and illegal detention that I had tried so hard to cover up had finally torn us all apart.

 

The sound of the sirens faded, and the alley returned to silence. The streetlights shone cold and desolate on the jewelry scattered on the ground. They flickered with mockery, like my five-year dream, leaving nothing but ruins in the end.

 

 

 

Vivian’s POV

 

A few days later, in my office.

 

Quinn read the newspaper headlines for the day:

 

"Bruce, Chairman of Nelson Tech Group, and multiple executives arrested for multiple counts of financial crime."

 

"Hazel, the de facto controller of Skyline Innovations, criminally detained on suspicion of major violent crime."

 

I listened, my expression blank.

 

"I see." I lowered my head and went back to my documents.

 

Three years later.

 

Standing at the top of the new OmniFront Labs building, I sat in my office chair, swirling half a glass of red wine, looking down at the entire city.

 

Over the past three years, the market value of OmniFront Labs had increased more than tenfold, and I had become the youngest and wealthiest person in Eversia.

 

At ten in the morning, a TV interview.

 

I sat in the studio, facing the camera, responding calmly to the host’s questions.

 

The host asked how I managed to turn OmniFront Labs into an industry leader in just a few years.

 

I smiled. "Focus on technology, respect the market, and believe in your team."

 

The host asked about the biggest challenge I encountered during my entrepreneurial journey.

 

I looked into the camera, my eyes firm. "There are no real difficulties. Difficulties are just things to be solved."

 

Thunderous applause erupted in the studio.

 

After the interview, I returned to OmniFront Labs.

 

Pushing open the office door, a wave of floral fragrance greeted me. The room was filled with flowers and greeting cards, colorful and almost filling the entire space.

 

Quinn followed behind me, smiling. "These were all delivered early this morning."

 

"Mr. Richardson and Mr. Rivera sent theirs the earliest, along with some small gifts."

 

"My favorite is still the one from Mr. Gibson—the roses he sends every year are always the most beautiful and the largest."

 

I scanned the bouquets one by one.

 

Besides them, many business partners had also sent flowers, all congratulating me on becoming the wealthiest woman.

 

My gaze swept over those flowers, just as one would scan a row of trees by the roadside, my heart remaining completely undisturbed.

 

I placed my bag on the desk and said flatly, "Distribute the flowers to the staff; there’s no room left in the office."

 

Quinn nodded. "Understood."

 

I sat back at the desk, opened the document in front of me, and continued reading.

 

The sunlight from outside poured in, landing on the side of my face and outlining my profile.

 

I lowered my head, the tip of my pen making a soft, scratching sound on the paper.

 

There was still so much to do.

 

Because the road ahead was still long.

 

Those flowers, those gifts—they were nothing more than decorations along the way.

 

(The End)