“Elliana, don’t mistake your temporary victories for lasting triumph,” Paige hissed. “You stole my rightful marriage, dragged my name through the mud, destroyed my engagement celebration, and disrupted the launch of this show—yet you cannot stop my rise. Watch closely as I soar to stardom while you remain nothing more than a forgotten stepping stone beneath my feet. When I stand bathed in adoration’s spotlight, you’ll be left writhing as the internet’s favorite mockery. Let’s see whom Cole chooses when the dust settles!”
Venom and ice crystallized in Paige’s glare, revealing the deep resentment she refused to let go of.
Elliana’s soft laughter floated between them as she recognized Paige’s lingering obsession with Cole. This elaborate production—carried out with Merritt’s considerable influence—was nothing more than an attempt to rehabilitate Paige’s tarnished image and recapture Cole’s attention. Raylan was nothing but a convenient distraction, a human shield against Paige’s scandals. How tragically pitiful. Years spent meticulously crafting her facade as Ublento’s premier socialite, desperately accumulating accolades—all to marry Cole. Such hollow ambition.
Elliana’s half-smile cut like glass. “I’ll be watching closely—as you remain blinded by others’ brilliance, struggling to escape the judgment you’ve earned.”
“You!” Fury drained the color from Paige’s face, but fear of being exposed forced her rage to retreat underground. “What gives you the right to speak to me this way?” she seethed. “Remember why you joined this show—to uncover the truth about that fire. Provoke me further, and those answers will vanish forever.”
Elliana’s derisive scoff sliced through Paige’s threats. “Oh, please, don’t make me laugh. It’s not like we just met yesterday. Why would I trust anything slithering from your lips?”
Bewilderment flickered across Paige’s features. “You’re not seeking the truth? Then what brings you here?”
“Your downfall.”
“How laughable! With what weapon? Your empty title as Mrs. Evans?” Paige’s voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “Word is, Cole fled home last night, too furious to stay under your roof. How much longer can you maintain this charade?”
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With so many people in the Evans household, it was hardly surprising that someone would gossip about this. Paige’s knowledge didn’t shock Elliana in the slightest. She surmised that perhaps this incident explained Paige’s persistent fixation on Cole.
Elliana decided to let Paige cling to her delusion regarding Cole. The higher her expectations soared, the more devastating their inevitable crash would be.
Interpreting Elliana’s silence as confirmation, Paige’s satisfaction bloomed into smugness. She delivered a final contemptuous snort before exiting the vehicle.
Through the window, Elliana watched Paige gravitate toward Luciano, her practiced charm and radiance lighting up as the cameras captured her every move. Elliana stepped out of the bus, a knowing smile playing across her lips.
The entourage surrounding Luciano made its way to the Ublento Art Museum, with Paige accompanying him as part of the show’s orchestrated plan, cameras tracking their every step.
Relegated to the crowd’s periphery, where she had no visibility, Elliana retrieved her phone to monitor the livestream.
Paige engaged Luciano in an art discourse, reciting clearly rehearsed lines that fabricated an illusion of artistic expertise, especially regarding oil painting.
Luciano’s arrival electrified the comment section.
“Mr. Scott’s presence elevates everything—instant cultural refinement!”
“Never imagined I’d witness a master artist up close—thank you, producers!”
“Did you notice? Paige’s commentary had Mr. Scott nodding appreciatively, praising her artistic perception. He seems ready to accept her as his protégé!”
“Where’s Elliana hiding? Cowering in some corner, crushed by inadequacy before true artistic greatness?”
“The Evans family’s judgment bewilders me. Why choose worthless Elliana when Paige would bring such distinguished pride to their name?”
Elliana savored these comments with quiet amusement, anticipating the mortification that would await Paige’s followers when their goddess’s fa?ade eventually shattered.
Suddenly, a commotion rippled through the crowd.
Glancing up, Elliana realized they had entered the museum’s first exhibition hall, where an oil painting commanded universal attention. Luciano adopted the posture of artistic royalty as he addressed the gathering. “This masterpiece, titled ‘Spring Goddess,’ comes from my idol, Rosa…”
The unexpected introduction of her work—Luciano’s claim of devoted admiration—caught Elliana off-guard.
While she absorbed this ironic turn, Paige’s voice sliced through the moment with calculated precision. “Elliana, come here…”
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