“And they call themselves one of the top PR firms in the industry?!
What a completely redundant waste of effort!” Charlotte Quinn glared at the trending searches on her computer screen, angrily slapping her desk with a loud SMACK.
“They might as well pack it up and flip burgers!”
Sitting beside her, Leah Sterling held a small spoon, eating a slice of tiramisu.
She scooped up a bite and held it out to Charlotte’s lips.
“Information channels are too advanced these days.
It’s not that easy to suppress news anymore.”
Charlotte looked at her suspiciously.
“You look like you’re actually enjoying this.”
“I’m not the one making a fool of myself,” Leah said calmly.
The comment section was a sea of insults directed entirely at Wendy Scott and Adrian Hawthorne.
Netizens were just a hair’s breadth away from completely doxxing Wendy.
At most, a few voices criticized Leah for being too cowardly, but the moment they heard about the thirty million, they all changed their tune.
Online comments were always like this—a massive crowd blowing off steam together.
Replies flooded in immediately.
“If my husband gave me thirty million, never mind just tossing coffee and not throwing hands when face-to-face with the mistress, I’d even nurse her through her postpartum confinement!”
“I’d do it for ten million, and it’d be even better if my husband never came home!”
“Hey upstairs, stop undercutting the market with your vicious competition!”
There were also a few snarky voices lurking beneath these top comments.
“It wasn’t even given to her, was it?
The post clearly said it was an investment in her friend’s project.”
This garnered plenty of replies as well.
“If he can invest thirty million in her friend’s project, do you really think he’d only give her three thousand?
Get real.”
Furthermore, ever since Yvette Sinclair’s account was banned, even more voices had emerged.
“I originally just treated this as an entertaining story, but the original poster actually got banned!”
“Oh.
My.
God!
This is some Grade-A, guaranteed-real gossip we’re getting!”
“I thought it was just a scripted skit!”
After reading through these comments, Charlotte’s initial anger gradually subsided.
She calmed down quite a bit.
Glancing at Leah, she remarked, “Not bad.
You’re getting craftier by the day.”
Leah met Charlotte’s gaze, her eyes curving into a smile.
In truth, she couldn’t care less whether the incident trended or not.
Even if the situation blew up completely, she wouldn’t be the one getting cursed out.
That honor belonged solely to Wendy and Adrian.
Regardless of whether the Hawthorne Group would suffer any fallout from such a scandal, the blame would ultimately fall squarely on Wendy’s shoulders.
If Adrian wanted to divorce her over this…
well, Leah had wanted a divorce from the very beginning anyway.
It would just be playing right into her hands.
Even if Adrian didn’t divorce her over this, they were still parting ways in a hundred days anyway.
Once she finalized the paperwork, her image as a sober, independent woman would be firmly established.
If she ever wanted to promote herself on social media in the future, the current accumulation of online buzz would definitely give her career a boost.
“So stop worrying,” Leah said, pointing at the cake in front of her.
“Have some.
It’s really good.”
Charlotte pursed her lips.
“It’s not as good as the ones you make.”
“I’ll make you some another day,” Leah replied with a smile.
Charlotte let out a soft sigh.
“You make it sound so easy…”
Leah paused at the comment.
“It is pretty easy for me to make.
It’s just tiramisu.
Even if you want a Napoleon, just say the word.”
Charlotte gave her a look.
“I’m not talking about the cake.”
Leah realized then that Charlotte was still worried.
“Now that this has been exposed, the Hawthorne Family will definitely come looking for you,” Charlotte said.
“His mother is already a piece of work, to say nothing of the rest of the Hawthorne Family.
And then there’s your own family.
Your dad is a complete headache.
If he finds out you and Adrian are on the rocks, he’ll definitely pressure you too.”
Leah’s expression didn’t change much upon hearing this.
It wasn’t that she thought Charlotte’s concerns were invalid; she was simply used to it.
With or without today’s drama, Leah had been living this kind of life regularly for the past five years.
“Plus, there’s the class reunion next week,” Charlotte added, her lips turning down.
“You know how it is.
Those few from our class are always hoping for your downfall, just waiting to see you make a fool of yourself.”
Leah was beautiful and came from a wealthy background.
A girl like her in school was either the center of attention or an easy target for isolation.
Since Leah didn’t have the personality of a social butterfly, she naturally became a target.
While there hadn’t been any physical bullying, the verbal jabs had been relentless.
In the early years, with her family’s wealth and her excellent marriage, those girls had no choice but to bite their tongues whenever they ran into her at reunions.
But over the last two years, as Leah’s family situation deteriorated, those same classmates began turning up their noses and giving her the side-eye.
Now, with her marital crisis exploding into the open…
“Maybe you should just skip it this time,” Charlotte suggested.
Leah glanced at her.
“How could I?
Old King is having a birthday, so I definitely have to go.
As for them, let them talk all they want.
I’m not afraid of gossip.”
She had heard more than enough idle gossip over the years to last a lifetime.
“I won’t chat anymore.
I need to go buy a kiln.” Leah stood up and smoothed out her clothes.
She planned to create a new collection to enter into an upcoming pottery competition.
However, since it had been a while since she last worked with clay, her hands were a bit out of practice.
She decided it was best not to mention this to Charlotte just yet.
“Where are you going to put it?
Your current place probably can’t handle the power load of an electric kiln, right?” Charlotte asked, unconvinced.
Leah thought it over.
“There should be models with appropriate wattage for standard household electricity.
The sellers will know.
I’ll go ask.”
Leah quickly picked out an electric kiln, and the freight company delivered it straight to Seaview Manor.
After plugging it in without any issues, she cut some clay, casually sculpted a few small plates, and shoved them into the kiln once they were dry.
Who could have guessed that the moment she officially turned it on to start firing the pottery, a loud POP echoed through the room, and the circuit breaker tripped.
The entire house plunged into darkness, leaving only the dazzling night view visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Leah was stunned.
Her immediate instinct was to call the seller and ask what was going on, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember where she had just tossed her phone.
“I’d better go out and flip the breaker first,” Leah sighed.
But as she racked her brain, she realized that while Robert Rhodes had handled all the property transfer paperwork, she still had absolutely no idea where the breaker box was in this house.
Usually, they were located near the front entryway, so Leah made her way toward the foyer.
The entryway was even darker—so pitch-black she could barely see her own hand in front of her face.
Leah had to fumble blindly to open the front door, hoping to use the light from the hallway to locate the electrical box.
The moment the door opened, the hallway lights flared to life.
They illuminated the foyer, but they also illuminated the tall figure standing right outside her door.
Leah froze, her gaze locking onto him.
The man stood with his back to the hallway lights, his face obscured by the shadows, revealing only the sharp, handsome lines of his silhouette.
The faint, crisp scent of cedar wafted from him into Leah’s lungs.
“Why are you…” Leah started.
“What happened?” Adrian Hawthorne raised his eyes and swept his gaze over the dark interior.
“Power outage?”
He had just stepped out of the elevator and arrived at the door, intending to give her a call, when he heard a loud noise from inside, unaware of what had caused it.
A moment later, the door had opened.
“…
The breaker tripped,” Leah replied.
“I came out to find the electrical box.”
Adrian’s brows knitted into a tight knot.
“And you just opened the door and walked out like this?
What if it was someone with bad intentions who intentionally cut your power to lure you out?”
Leah gave him a look, seemingly surprised that he would ask such a thing.
“Your average bad guy wouldn’t be able to beat me in a fight.”