Zoe Lancaster had already accepted this reality. This was simply the hand she was dealt with a hidden marriage.
Simon Hawthorne making her sign a non-disclosure agreement for their marriage was undeniably forward-thinking. It wouldn’t tarnish his public image in the slightest—allowing countless women to continue swooning over him and throwing themselves at his feet—and it would protect Stella Joyce’s pristine reputation. Once they officially divorced in a year, who would ever know he had been married?
Everyone else would just envy Simon and Stella’s romance, obsessively shipping them right in front of Zoe. Meanwhile, she had to pretend everything was fine, acting as if that bright, untouchable moon had never belonged to her.
"Never mentioned it. Alright, let’s gossip less about Mr. Hawthorne’s private life, lest we stir up trouble," Zoe said, placing the bouquet of roses on the floor and ignoring it.
Her colleagues shrank their necks back and scattered.
Only Summer Thorne leaned in, studying her with curiosity. "Zoe, where did you get those dark circles? What were you doing yesterday? Did you not sleep well?"
Zoe’s mind uncontrollably flashed back to the scenes from yesterday. Feeling as if her entire body was being roasted over an open fire, she touched her burning cheeks. "I was busy grinding an iron rod."
Summer stared at her in utter bewilderment. "...Huh??"
Later that day, Simon visited the Public Relations Department.
He was there because of some issues with the Easton Resort project. Someone had paid to circulate smear campaigns about their construction materials, which required immediate PR intervention. Secretary Linden had also rushed back overnight to report on the situation.
In the conference room, Simon sat at the head of the table. He absentmindedly rubbed the silver pinky ring on his left hand while listening to his subordinates present their contingency plans. His eyes were as placid and unreadable as an ancient well.
That was until a manager stood up. "Mr. Hawthorne, these are the documents I’ve gathered. I’m afraid this incident is inextricably linked to the Yates Family in Portellis. A couple of years ago, they came to the capital to develop a similar project but narrowly lost the resort bid to us. It’s highly likely they’re playing dirty now."
The Yates Family.
They were a top-tier wealthy family from Portellis. In recent years, they had expanded into the mainland, their business booming to the point of rivaling the Hawthorne Family. Naturally, their competition was fierce, marked by overt clashes and covert sabotage.
No circle was darker than the ruthless battlefield of the business world. To achieve their goals, some would even treat human lives like worthless ants.
Simon slowly lifted his gaze, looking at the manager thoughtfully. His tone was cold and oppressive. "The Yates Family’s involvement is an open secret. What I want is a flawless solution. I have no interest in hearing flowery but useless rhetoric."
The manager looked sheepish, breaking into a cold sweat. "Mr. Hawthorne, please rest assured. We will definitely..."
"What is your name?" Simon interrupted his rambling, asking out of the blue.
The manager suddenly felt overwhelmed by the unexpected favor. He was just a manager in the Project Department and rarely had the chance to speak directly with Mr. Hawthorne. Had the boss finally noticed him? Was he about to get promoted?
"Peter Miller! My name is Peter Miller!" he answered.
Was he about to hit the jackpot?!
Simon lowered his eyes to the documents on his lap. His voice was light, yet its lethality was invisible. "You are all talk and no competence, full of empty theories. If you can’t handle this position, step down!"
As his words fell, a deathly silence filled the conference room. Everyone felt a sense of impending doom, cold sweat trickling down their backs as they feared getting caught in the crossfire.
Peter’s face instantly turned ghastly pale. He didn’t understand what he had done wrong. He certainly hadn’t committed any irreversible professional blunder! Why would Mr. Hawthorne suddenly strip him of his position?
Linden and Shane Shaw, who had just rushed over, exchanged a look.
They wondered, "What’s going on? Mr. Hawthorne rarely acts like this."
Shane shot Linden a cold eyeroll, thinking he was a gossipy busybody.
Linden understood Shane’s meaning and grew so angry he wanted to scratch that smug face!
Because of the Easton project’s PR crisis, the Public Relations Department naturally had to work overtime.
The golden window for resolving a corporate PR crisis was within forty-eight hours. The entire department was brightly lit, and the phones rang incessantly, one after another.
Zoe knew of the Yates Family in Portellis. Within the country, they were the only entity that could run neck and neck with the Hawthorne Family.
She knew of them because she was friends with someone from the Yates Family. His name was Jules Yates, a top-tier superstar in the current film industry. They had met by chance when she visited her mother in Portellis, and they had known each other for about a decade. However, she knew very little about the rest of the family.
The current head of the Yates Family was the Crown Prince, Miles Yates.
She had heard that the man at the helm of the Yates Group had just turned thirty this year. He never made public appearances, maintaining a mysterious yet formidable reputation, and absolutely no private information about him could be dug up.
But anyone who could go toe-to-toe with Simon Hawthorne was surely no ordinary figure.
Zoe couldn’t find any photos of him online, so she gave up trying. Stealing a quick moment from her busy schedule, she controlled her automatic feeder to dispense some food for Heartbreaker before diving back into the battlefield of work.
On the internet, suspicions regarding the resort’s safety and whether the construction materials posed a severe formaldehyde hazard continued to play out.
After fighting for a day and a night, the uproar finally began to subside.
A lie could travel halfway around the world while the truth was still putting on its shoes. Such was the nature of the internet age—people only wanted to believe what they chose to believe. Their eyes were sealed tight, and their ears were closed.
Two days later, Zoe finally returned to her apartment from the company. Having been granted two days off, she slept like a log for nearly fifteen hours before finally dragging herself out of bed.
However, her free time didn’t last long.
She received a phone call from Summer, who sounded incredibly anxious. "Zoe, look at X quickly! Is that you? Why does it look so much like you?"
Confused, Zoe opened X to take a look.
What greeted her was a trending hashtag that had already blown up:
#StellaJoyceSlappedAndBeaten#
Zoe’s heart skipped a beat. She hastily clicked on it and, sure enough, found a video. It was shot from a rather tricky angle on the day they were at the club. In the footage, her face was pixelated, but the censorship was sloppy enough that her features could faintly be made out. It perfectly captured the moment when Stella fell to the ground after being struck by Crystal Hayes, followed by Zoe stepping forward and reaching out to help her up. Due to the misleading camera angle, her outstretched hand looked exactly as if she had slapped Stella across the face.
Meanwhile, Stella was looking up at her with tear-filled eyes and a terrified expression, as if Zoe were some vicious monster.
A video taken completely out of context, combined with Stella’s celebrity status, was more than enough to ignite a firestorm of publicity.
Taking a deep breath, Zoe opened the comments section.
[Does this crazy woman have a death wish?! Bullying our Stella like this—can someone doxx her?!]
[Stella was taking a one-sided beating! Get a lawyer and sue! Throw this crazy hag in jail!]
[My heart aches so much! Stella is just too kind! If it were me, I would’ve demanded they not censor her face! We should cyberbully her until she’s too afraid to show herself!]
[Huh? Doesn’t this silhouette and general appearance look a bit familiar? I think she’s from our company...]
Seeing this comment, fans immediately swarmed the thread.
[Quick, tell us!]
[I think she’s a woman in our company who climbed the ranks using her looks. My colleagues said she probably slept her way to the top and has really strong backing...]
This instigating remark instantly provoked even more intense dissatisfaction and hatred. The comments grew increasingly filthy and unbearable.
[I knew it! She’s no good. Turns out she’s just a whore selling her body!]
[Ahhh, I feel so bad for Stella! I’m going to kill her!]
Zoe abruptly exited the X interface.
How could an ordinary person who worked diligently every day withstand the massive, terrifying cyberbullying from a rabid fanbase?
On the phone, Summer was still asking anxiously, "Zoe? Zoe? Are you okay?"