Chapter 114

Seraphina Delacroix had received a tip from a confidential source. The head of the Blackwood family was the main organizer of this year's Auto Show. She had been infatuated with Nathaniel Blackwood for years. She had confessed her feelings to him multiple times. Every single time, he had turned her down. Today, she was thrilled to have another opportunity to see him!

Isabella Montgomery’s crimson lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “I heard all the organizers are prominent CEOs,” she remarked, her voice deceptively sweet. “They’ll be arriving shortly for a live broadcast. Ten top entertainment reporters are joining them. Imagine the scene when those executives walk in and see this disaster backstage. What will the fans think when they witness a group of established supermodels ganging up on a newcomer?”

Her words, though melodious, felt like a venomous curse to the models. As she spoke, Isabella deliberately ran her fingers through her hair, tousling it until she looked like she had just survived a brutal fight.

Genevieve Laurent finally snapped. “Isabella Montgomery, you are pure evil!” she shrieked, her face contorted with rage. “I will make you pay for this! Just you wait!” She spun around, ready to flee the chaotic scene.

Seraphina grabbed her arm, stopping her cold. “Where do you think you’re going?” she hissed. “Clean this mess up. Now.”

“Me?” Genevieve spat out, incredulous.

“Who else?” Seraphina’s voice was icy. “The rest of you, get your assistants. Start picking everything up off the floor. Now.”

Genevieve and the other models seethed with silent fury. How dare she command them like servants?

A low murmur of voices began to filter in from outside the door. Seraphina shot them a glacial glare. “Do you want your fans to see you as bullies?” she demanded. The models swallowed their pride. They had no choice. They scrambled to gather Isabella’s scattered belongings.

The floor was a warzone of shattered makeup and ruined accessories. The supermodels frantically collected the debris, their movements frantic and stressed. Genevieve, who had gleefully destroyed everything moments before, was now boiling with hateful anger. If the organizers discovered she was responsible for this costly damage, she would be forced to pay for it all! She hurriedly scooped up the broken items and dumped them into a trash bin. She turned to her panicked assistant. “Go to the warehouse! Get a brand new set of everything! Money is no object!”

“Yes, Miss Laurent!” The assistant scurried away.

The footsteps outside grew louder, more distinct. Seraphina noticed Isabella hadn’t moved a muscle. “Fix your hair!” she ordered, her voice tight with anger. If the fans saw Isabella looking like a victim, the narrative would be set.

Isabella merely shrugged, her expression one of feigned helplessness. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a soft, pathetic tremor. “I’m so terrified after everyone attacked my things. My whole body has gone numb. I can’t move.”

She can’t move! She’s blatantly refusing to cooperate! The audacity! Seraphina thought, her anger reaching a boiling point. She wanted to strangle Isabella right then and there. But the live stream was imminent. Forcing down her rage, Seraphina strode over to Isabella. With rough, impatient hands, she began smoothing down Isabella’s disheveled hair. Once it was perfectly styled again, Seraphina glared at Isabella’s reflection in the new mirror. “You’ve gotten away with it this time, you savage,” she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “Just you wait. I will have my revenge.”

“Oh, I look forward to it. Do keep me company until the very end,” Isabella replied. A sinister, arrogant smile played on her lips. She laughed, a sound full of mocking triumph. The surrounding models watched in sullen, hate-filled silence, each wishing for her immediate demise.

The backstage door swung open. A group of men in impeccably tailored suits entered. Seraphina instantly stepped away from Isabella, adopting a neutral expression. The other supermodels scurried back to their own dressing tables, pretending to be engrossed in their preparations. The scene was now one of calm, professional order.

Inside her private changing room, Victoria Kensington was fuming. She felt like screaming. What a useless bunch of idiots! So many of them, and they couldn't even handle one Isabella! How utterly infuriating!

But then, a cold, calculating smirk replaced her anger. She remembered her real plan for the day. Perhaps this squabble being settled was for the best. It would make her own scheme run more smoothly. Today, she would ensure Isabella Montgomery was completely destroyed. She would make sure that woman rotted away in prison for good.