Fiona’s entire world flipped the mont she learned her father was being sued by the Bennetts—for deliberately spreading false rumors about Bennett’s wife and the attacker, twisting facts until the truth was barely recognizable.
And as if that blow wasn’t devastating enough, Daniel—and every company connected to him—had completely severed ties with their family. Her reckless decision to drag the dia onto his film set had sparked a public circus, tarnishing the actors’ reputations and disrupting the entire production.
In a matter of seconds, Fiona watched everything crumble—her family’s standing, their business alliances, and whatever fragile sense of control she had once believed she possessed.
"How dare you hire reporters without double-checking the facts? You ruined everything, you useless girl!" Fredrick snarled through the phone before abruptly cutting the call.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Fiona stood frozen, her hands trembling as she stared at the dark screen.
"Ma’am, this—" Venus rushed to her side, holding out her phone. "You need to see this."
It was a ssage from the reporter Fiona had hired—now fired and permanently blacklisted from every major dia house. The curses filling the screen were venomous, blaming Fiona for singlehandedly destroying his career.
Fiona’s face drained of color as she read each word.
Then her gaze shifted.
Anna was approaching—calm, composed, untouched by the chaos Fiona had unleashed.
Fury ignited instantly in Fiona’s eyes.
"You really have a talent for stirring trouble for yourself, don’t you, Fiona?" Anna said coolly. Her tone was unfazed, her expression serene—as if the storm raging around them had never existed at all.
"Y-you knew all along," Fiona snapped, clenching her jaw as she shot Anna a murderous glare. "You knew this would backfire, didn’t you?"
Anna folded her arms, amusent flickering across her lips. "Backfire?" she echoed, a small, knowing smile forming.
Fiona’s lips twitched. Her grip on her phone tightened until her knuckles turned white.
"You should learn to check facts, Fiona," Anna said calmly. "But I suppose when you’re too focused on humiliating soone in public, you forget to consider the consequences—especially for yourself."
That day, when Anna’s mother had been attacked, Daniel had already issued strict notices to the dia—clear warnings to stay away from the family and refrain from harassnt.
But Fiona hadn’t cared.
She had handpicked desperate, money-hungry reporters and brought them in, intent on creating a spectacle—intent on humiliating Anna and her family.
What she hadn’t considered was that going against them wouldn’t just cost her pride.
It had cost careers.It had cost alliances.And now—it was costing her everything.
"You—" Fiona started to snap, the word trembling on her lips before it died there. She couldn’t finish it. Not when she knew exactly what would co next if she did.
The Anna standing before her wasn’t the woman she could corner or provoke anymore. She was sharper now—calculated, perfectly aware of how to turn the page without ever getting her hands dirty. And Fiona knew sothing else with chilling clarity.
Losing her wasn’t an option.
Anna tilted her head slightly, a silent invitation, waiting for Fiona to lunge with words or accusations—to make the first mistake.
But Fiona didn’t.
With her jaw clenched and her pride burning in her chest, she spun on her heel and stord away, every step stiff with restrained fury.
Behind her, Anna watched her go.
And slowly, deliberately, a smile curved on her lips—not of victory, but of certainty.
***
"These families really know how to stir trouble," Kathrine muttered, sliding her phone back across the table to the man seated opposite her.
Ethan Helmsworth.
They were tucked into a quiet corner of the coffee shop, the low hum of conversation and the rich scent of roasted beans wrapping the space in a false sense of comfort, while watching the video his manager sent him from the set before.
Kathrine’s words made Ethan arch a brow. He leaned back slightly, eyes thoughtful.
"Is she really the only one involved?" he asked, gesturing vaguely, his tone asured but probing.
The question hung between them, heavier than the calm atmosphere around them.
After the board eting, Kathrine had suspected Fredrick wouldn’t stop there. n like him never did. She’d been certain he would try to twist the sa narrative again—this ti to mislead the police and set a trap for them.
Luckily, her father had stepped in before things could spiral further. Frederick hadn’t just been cut from the investor list; he’d been sued for defamation, effectively stripping him of any credibility he thought he had left.
As for the dia chaos, Kathrine had already learned that Daniel had handled it swiftly. Knowing the kind of man he was, she had no doubt the situation had pushed him to take decisive action against the Stewards—especially since his wife had been dragged into it.
"It’s a long story," she said finally, waving a hand to dismiss the subject. She didn’t have the patience—or the energy—to invite another headache by thinking about it any longer.
Ethan arched a brow, a hint of amusent flickering across his features. It was written all over her face—she was waging a quiet war inside her own head, weighing truths she didn’t want to voice against thoughts she couldn’t entirely silence.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, fingers wrapping loosely around his coffee cup, his eyes never leaving her face.
"For a long story," he said mildly, lips curving into a knowing smirk, "you look like soone replaying the entire saga in painfully vivid detail."
Kathrine shot him a look. "Don’t start."
"Oh, I’m absolutely starting," he replied, unbothered. "You do this thing—you wave it off like it’s nothing, and then your eyebrows start arguing with each other."
She frowned. "They do not."
"They do," he said confidently. "One’s playing ’calm and professional,’ the other’s screaming ’this is a ss and I hate it.’ It’s very entertaining."
Kathrine sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You’re impossible."
Ethan’s smile softened just a fraction, still playful but sharper at the edges. "Maybe. But that’s usually the face you make when you’re carrying more than you should."
He lifted his cup in a small, mock salute. "Relax. You don’t have to give the long version."
Then, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, he added, "But if you do... I promise to interrupt you with sarcasm at appropriate intervals."
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