Author’s POV
WhisperStream opened the docunt Serena had sent and found himself completely captivated by its explosive contents. If this information went public, it would undoubtedly cause a massive scandal.
But even if he couldn’t publish it, he had nothing to lose. After all, his livelihood depended on having a constant stream of juicy information to monetize.
The fact that Serena had managed to uncover such private details suggested she could easily dig up other valuable dirt as well.
[I’ll handle this. You’re a real one for this.] he typed.
[Just giving credit where it’s due. I believe karma catches up to everyone eventually,] Serena replied.
She had deliberately used her main account rather than an anonymous one to demonstrate her sincerity.
If WhisperStream wanted to trace who owned the account, he could easily do so. Being straightforward was the better approach.
Her social dia profile was already linked to Celeste’s design studio, so WhisperStream would understand her motivation.
[Wait for my update, Lazuli. And congratulations on your coback!] ca his response.
Serena smiled at the screen. It seed WhisperStream was actually a fan of her work.
anwhile, Martin, the renowned design competition judge, was living it up at a nightclub, completely intoxicated. His head rested on a woman’s lap as he dozed off briefly.
His phone kept vibrating in his pocket, irritating him. Frowning, he pulled it out to check.
"Who could this be..." he muttered.
This was his private number, rarely called by strangers. There was only one possibility—perhaps it was that beautiful woman he’d been eyeing recently, finally unable to resist his charms.
A lecherous smile crossed his face as he pushed away the woman beside him and left the private room with his phone.
The hallway was considerably quieter. He cleared his throat with a couple of coughs before answering.
"Hello? Is this Bella?" he asked, his voice dripping with sleazy anticipation.
On the other end, WhisperStream shuddered in disgust. This man really was as predatory as rumored—acting respectable in public while being utterly sleazy in private.
"I’m afraid not, but don’t hang up just yet. What I’m about to tell you is quite... stimulating. Better make sure no one overhears us," WhisperStream replied coolly.
The middle-aged man’s face fell, thinking it was so prank call.
"If you’ve got nothing important to say, I’m hanging up."
"Rember when you coerced Jessica Thompson into sleeping with you?" WhisperStream asked pointedly.
Martin’s gaze flickered nervously, his body suddenly tense as the alcohol haze cleared from his mind.
"If Jessica doesn’t ring a bell, perhaps Emma Wilson or Clare Carter will? All three are prominent figures in the design world—previous winners of the design competition.
Though they only won because they slept with you, isn’t that right?"
As WhisperStream continued, Martin’s scalp began to tingle with fear. Despite this, he refused to admit anything.
"What nonsense are you spouting? Do you have any proof? I could sue you for defamation!"
"Why so defensive if it isn’t true? Want to know if I have evidence? Martin, why don’t you check the photos and videos I just sent you, then call back."
WhisperStream hung up abruptly. Simultaneously, several videos and images arrived on Martin’s phone.
When he opened them, he nearly blacked out. The footage was explicit but unmistakably showed him with the competition winners in hotel rooms.
Martin could see his carefully built career crumbling before his eyes. If this got out, the consequences would be devastating.
He called back imdiately, without hesitation.
"How much money do you want? Na your price!"
"I don’t want your money, Martin," WhisperStream replied calmly.
"Then what do you want?" Martin’s expression darkened. People who didn’t want money usually wanted sothing worse.
"It’s simple. That plagiarism scandal from the design competition—you all fabricated it, didn’t you? Help clear Celeste’s na.
State publicly that she didn’t plagiarize anything. End this charade."
The man sighed with initial relief, but then tensed again as he thought of Ivy.
"Don’t you know who backs Ivy?You’re asking to cross Mr.Blackwood? "
Facing public disgrace was terrifying, but crossing Ryan Blackwood seed equally dangerous.
"That’s your problem to solve. Perhaps there’s a way to satisfy both sides.
Figure it out yourself. You have one day—I want to see your public statent clearing Celeste’s na by tomorrow evening."
With that, WhisperStream ended the call.
Martin kicked a nearby trash can in frustration before rushing off to find a solution.
Twenty-four hours to clear Celeste’s na without offending Ivy and the powerful Boss behind her.
It felt like an impossible task—almost like asking for his life.
* * *
Serena’s POV
I put down my stylus after finishing the last design order, finally able to take a breather. I stretched my arms overhead, noticing my coffee cup was completely empty.
Maya had insisted on staying with until I finished, declaring her unwavering support, but within minutes she’d fallen asleep on the studio couch.
"Maya, wake up. We can go ho now," I said, gently shaking her shoulder.
She stood up groggily, blinking away sleep. "Serena, you finished everything? You’re amazing."
"It’s nothing. Let’s head ho."
We had just stepped out of the taxi when Maya’s phone rang.
In the quiet of the night, the excited voice from the other end was clearly audible.
"Maya, the plagiarism accusations have been cleared!" Celeste’s voice trembled with emotion.
Maya instantly beca alert, her hand shaking slightly as she gripped the phone.
"What did you say?"
"Check the news! One of the design competition judges released a statent confirming I didn’t plagiarize anything. My reputation is finally restored!"
"That’s wonderful news, Celeste! If you’re feeling up to it, co back to the studio whenever you’re ready," Maya reassured her.
After a few more comforting words encouraging Celeste to rest, Maya ended the call and imdiately grabbed my arm.
"Serena, was this really your doing? How did you make this happen so quickly?" she asked, her eyes wide with amazent.
Faced with her barrage of questions, I could only smile sowhat enigmatically.
"The process doesn’t matter—only the results. Celeste has been vindicated, and the studio can get back to business. Consider it my way of thanking you for taking in."
"Listen to yourself! Taking you in was my duty as your best friend. Serena, I’m so grateful to have you. Without your help, I don’t know how we would have survived this crisis!"
What she didn’t know was that I was even more grateful to have her by my side after the divorce.
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