Chapter 36

Martha Nash narrowed her eyes, fingertips tapping the desk. "My professional instinct tells me Ryan Holt is about to crash and burn."

She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "Rumor has it he changed his hairstyle overnight—that fringe is so thick it could double as an umbrella. Don't you find that suspicious?"

The entertainment industry had no secrets.

Ryan had abruptly broken contract, then granted an exclusive interview to Horizon Media's rival. Leaked photos showed his heavy fringe obscuring half his face—ironic for someone who'd once mocked celebrities relying on bangs to hide flaws, boasting he was a "true heartthrob unafraid to show his forehead."

...

Evelyn Sinclair remained silent.

Ryan's hatred for her was justified.

In showbiz, looks were currency. Her slap had threatened his livelihood.

But she didn't regret it.

Drugged and disoriented, she'd meant to strike his cheek. In that panicked moment, she'd dialed her stun ring to maximum voltage—ensuring he'd never forget the lesson.

Mrs. Kingsley always called Evelyn a pushover.

She never realized this seemingly soft dumpling hid a needle laced with venom.

Ryan could only swallow his rage. If he dared complain, people would ask: Why would a journalist attack him so viciously?

Unless she'd been pushed to the brink.

Everyone knew the industry's dirty secrets. No one ripped off the veneer unless facing utter ruin.

"By the way," Martha suddenly changed subjects, "who was that woman protecting you?"

Evelyn paused. "My aunt."

"Thought it was your mom," Martha clicked her tongue, eyes gleaming. "Feisty. I like that..."

Evelyn: "..."

Was her boss a sadist or a masochist?

Martha clapped her shoulder. "When you sue Alexander Kingsley, bring her along. Bet she'd shred him so badly he'd crawl away in shame."

Evelyn sighed. "You're a born journalist, Martha."

Mrs. Kingsley wouldn't just curse—she'd pelt her own son with slippers!

A sudden cheer erupted from nearby cubicles.

Simon York rushed over. "Martha! Team Two snatched Moon Over Misty Peaks!"

"What?!" Martha's lollipop clattered to the floor.

Moon Over Misty Peaks was Horizon's summer blockbuster bet, tracked since casting. Martha's team had fought hard for promotional rights—only to lose them at the final hurdle.

Like nurturing a fruit tree, only for someone to uproot it at harvest!

Daniel Young strutted over smugly. "Martha, Victoria wants all Misty Peaks materials transferred to me. Hurry up—don't waste our time."

Martha stormed into the department head's office. Soon, Victoria Henn's icy voice carried through the floor:

"Your team's instability makes Misty Peaks too risky. Daniel delivered last quarter's best performance—he's the safe choice."

Martha protested, "That was unpredictable—"

"As editor, you lacked contingency plans?" Victoria cut in sharply. "Sending a rookie out alone reflects your leadership?"

"Ryan specifically requested Evelyn—"

"Enough!" Victoria's voice spiked. "Fix your team first. One more failure, and even I can't save you."

Martha muttered something, but Victoria's next words silenced the office:

"I don't care who backs her. Entertainment doesn't carry dead weight. If she's so talented, let her prove it elsewhere—not drag the entire department down!"

Martha emerged pale with fury.

The floor held its breath.

Evelyn traced her keyboard's edge.

Julian Ashford had promised no blame would fall on her—but workplaces wielded soft knives.

Victoria's reprimand targeted Martha, yet every word stabbed at Evelyn. Unable to fire her directly, they'd pressure her to quit.

At noon, Julian invited her to lunch.

Declining, Evelyn carried her meal to the cafeteria—freezing at overheard gossip:

"She handed Ryan to Orange Media on a platter, yet the Crown Prince still shields her?"

"Maybe she's got... special skills."

"Just transfer to Corporate already. Stop poisoning Entertainment."

"Kingsley Group sued for eight million? Is the Crown Prince really paying her debts?"

...

Evelyn had grown immune to such whispers.

But slandering Julian crossed the line.

She marched inside, lunchbox slamming onto a table.

Silence fell.

Coworkers exchanged uneasy glances.

Evelyn scanned the room, her voice glacial:

"Three days. That's all I need to ruin Ryan Holt."