Yvette Sinclair was on the verge of tears from anxiety.
Leah Sterling frowned.
“But live streaming is inherently unpredictable.
You didn’t have any malicious intent.
If it really comes down to it, this has to be considered an accident, right?”
“That may be true,” Charlotte Quinn said, shrugging her shoulders.
“But manslaughter is still a crime, and accidental damage is still damage.
Besides, you know exactly what kind of lawyers and legal consultants your Overlord keeps on his payroll.
“With their capabilities, even if they only hold her accountable for twenty percent of the liability, it’ll be enough to skin her alive,” Charlotte added, lifting her chin toward Yvette.
Yvette nodded pitifully.
If she had known she would cause such massive trouble, she never would have visited that haunted shop in the first place!
Mercury must be in retrograde!
What terrible luck!
“Maybe I should go find a temple to pray at,” Yvette moaned.
Leah hadn’t expected this situation to implicate the little streamer to such a severe extent.
“I’ll go ask him about it,” she said.
Charlotte looked at her.
“Aren’t you going to hide out in Lantheon on a business trip to avoid the storm?”
“I can’t let an innocent bystander become collateral damage.
After all, she’s suffering this disaster because of me.” Leah stood up and glanced over at Yvette.
“Let’s go.”
“Thank you, thank you!” Yvette immediately jumped up from the sofa.
On the way to the Hawthorne Group, Yvette watched Leah, who gripped the steering wheel with a calm expression.
Remembering the question Charlotte had asked earlier about hiding out in Lantheon to avoid the storm, it belatedly dawned on her that Leah’s own situation in this mess probably wasn’t very good either.
“I’m so sorry, Leah.
I’ve caused you a huge problem,” Yvette said guiltily.
“Hmm?” Leah stopped at a red light and turned to look at her.
“It’s a problem, yes, but not a huge one.
Honestly, I should be thanking you.”
“Thanking me?”
“Yes.
If you had asked me to blow this matter out of proportion and expose it all by myself, I probably wouldn’t have been able to do it.” It just wasn’t in her nature.
“But you hit the mark by sheer accident…” Leah smiled.
Upon arriving at the Hawthorne Group headquarters, there was no way the receptionist wouldn’t recognize Leah after what had happened last time.
As soon as she saw her, her attitude became extremely respectful.
“I’ll call the secretary’s office to let them know.
Please head straight up, Mrs.
Hawthorne,” the receptionist said, personally escorting Leah to the elevators.
Inside the CEO’s office, the public relations department was reporting the situation to Adrian Hawthorne.
“Mr.
Hawthorne, if this were just an ordinary scandal, it wouldn’t have much of an impact.
But in that conversation, not only was the possibility of your divorce from Mrs.
Hawthorne mentioned, but it also involved your investment moves…”
The director of the PR department trailed off hesitantly.
When the head of a financial conglomerate divorced, it inevitably involved the division of property and equity.
Moreover, a multi-million-dollar investment had been promised over the phone, half-jokingly and half-seriously.
Even if the project was highly promising, making such a commitment under those circumstances seemed far too reckless.
Regardless, the impact was entirely negative, vastly different from a standard tabloid rumor.
It had already caused fluctuations in the stock prices of several subsidiary companies under the Hawthorne Group.
Adrian looked up at the PR director.
“And your proposed solution?”
The PR director braced himself.
“We could either leak the fact that your prenuptial agreement with Mrs.
Hawthorne does not include any division of assets.
“Or, you and Mrs.
Hawthorne could announce your divorce, making it clear that no property or equity division is involved.
That would naturally stabilize the situation.”
Hearing this, Adrian’s narrow eyes lifted, fixing a frigid glare on the PR director.
“I pay you so that whenever a problem arises, your first instinct is to arrange for me to divorce my wife?”
When in doubt, tell the boss to get a divorce?
Hearing that icy question, the PR director’s scalp tightened with anxiety.
The department had heard that Mr.
Hawthorne and his wife had always been on bad terms, compounded by the existence of a prenuptial agreement with an expiration date.
Since divorce was only a matter of time anyway, they figured it would be better to utilize it for this crisis to maximize its utility.
The director had no choice but to pivot to an alternative plan.
“The other option is to release the security footage of Mrs.
Hawthorne seeking out male models at Night River previously.
“It would show that you and your wife both pursue your own separate affairs in this marriage.
The modern court of public opinion is far harsher on women; as long as we expose this, the negative backlash and public scrutiny will quickly shift onto her.
“Once Mrs.
Hawthorne’s image as the victim collapses, the narrative will rapidly reverse.
Then, the fallout on the Hawthorne Group will be dimin—”
The director couldn’t even finish his sentence before catching his boss’s chilling gaze, causing his voice to abruptly cut off.
“And then, everyone will assume I’ve been cuckolded,” Adrian said, his tone freezing cold.
“Oh, I’ve been cuckolded, yet I’m still investing thirty million into my wife’s friend’s business.
“Do I look like a bleeding-heart saint to you?” he asked, tapping a long, slender finger against his own cheek.
The director shrank back.
“Since when has Adrian Hawthorne ever been reduced to playing the victim for crisis management?” Adrian scoffed.
“You all brainstormed for this long, and this absolute garbage is all you could come up with?
How about you go to Human Resources, collect your severance package, pack up your things, and get out.”
“Mr.
Hawthorne!” the director hurriedly cried out.
“There’s—there’s one more plan.”
Adrian arched an eyebrow at him.
“Think carefully before you speak.”
The director knew this was his last chance.
If he failed to satisfy his boss this time, he really would be packing his bags.
“It’s…
it’s to pin this entire incident as a staged stunt directed and orchestrated by Miss Scott,” the director began cautiously, stealing a glance at his boss’s expression.
Seeing that Adrian’s eyebrow remained slightly raised, he couldn’t tell if this proposal would trigger another fit of rage.
The director couldn’t help but think to himself that pleasing his boss was like walking on a minefield!
Working for a living was just too damn hard!
Surprisingly, a second later, the boss simply said, “Let’s hear it.”
The director’s eyes lit up.
Letting out a massive sigh of relief, he quickly explained, “As long as we frame it as Miss Scott’s self-directed publicity stunt, it won’t severely impact the Hawthorne Group, nor will it drastically affect Mrs.
Hawthorne.
“A huge portion of the negative public sentiment is already aimed at Miss Scott anyway.
As for that streamer, we originally had grounds to pursue legal action against her.
Now, as long as we use that as leverage, I’m confident she won’t step forward to testify for Miss Scott.
“Afterward, if you and Mrs.
Hawthorne attend a few more public events together and manage your public image well, this entire situation will quickly blow over.”
The director gave Adrian a tentative look.
“However, Miss Scott will undeniably suffer some grievances with this plan.
So, what do you think…?”
Before Adrian could answer, a knock echoed through the room, and one half of the office’s double mahogany doors was pushed open.
The secretary stood at the entrance, speaking respectfully.
“Mr.
Hawthorne, your wife is here to see you.”
Adrian lifted his gaze and saw Leah standing behind the secretary, pressing her lips together lightly as she peered inside.
Beside her stood a young woman, her posture and expression completely ridden with anxiety.
The PR director looked confused and muttered under his breath, “That streamer?
Why is she with Mrs.
Hawthorne…?”