Chapter 176

I'm here to massage and fan you.

I can also run any errands you need.

Is a photoshoot really that exhausting?

I remember many professions being far more demanding.

Yet I've never seen farmers or researchers getting massages during work hours.

The crowd fell silent under her blunt observation.

She continued without hesitation.

Hiring multiple assistants might look impressive, but it's just vanity.

This toxic trend in our industry needs to change.

Her words struck a chord with everyone present.

Having personal assistants had always been standard practice for celebrities.

Some even brought private makeup artists despite provided staff.

Her perspective made them reconsider other grueling professions—farmers laboring under harsh sun, scientists pulling all-nighters, architects sacrificing sleep.

You're absolutely right, Ms. Montgomery.

You're the most grounded artist I've ever met.

Let me get you a drink!

This isn't blind admiration—it's genuine respect!

Just say the word if you need anything.

I'll help however I can!

They surrounded Isabella, their praises heartfelt and sincere.

I was supposed to be the ambassador.

Victoria seethed from her vantage point at Greenwish Park.

She crushed the cake box in her hands, knuckles whitening.

Isabella stole everything from me.

She shouldn't even be here!

Penelope flinched at her outburst.

Ms. Kensington, we brought this for the apology video...

Her voice trembled as she offered the dessert.

The reminder intensified Victoria's fury.

Her knees still ached from yesterday's prolonged kneeling.

She had faked tears, begged forgiveness, even feigned exhaustion—all to salvage her reputation.

Every performance was calculated to maintain her status.

Get another one. Now.

Victoria's tone left no room for argument.

But the nearest patisserie is seven kilometers—

A glacial stare cut her off.

Penelope wiped cold sweat from her brow and scrambled from the car.

Veronica, close the door!

Victoria's command echoed in the empty vehicle.

Then she remembered.

Veronica was gone.

The memory surfaced abruptly—her eighth birthday, when Veronica revealed she wasn't a biological Montgomery.

The truth had devastated her initially.

But Veronica's timing was strategic; early exposure prevented greater scandal later.

Without that warning, she might have been disinherited without a cent.

Everything she built would have crumbled.

Over the years, Veronica helped her manipulate Isabella, securing her place in the family.

Veronica understood her like a mother—patient with her temper, accepting her flaws.

With Veronica, she could drop the perfect facade and simply exist.

Now imprisoned, Veronica was beyond reach.

Victoria was truly alone, with no one to trust or confide in.

Isabella. This is all your fault.

Her venomous gaze locked onto the distant figure.

The burning hatred crystallized into a single focus.

She would destroy Isabella Montgomery, no matter the cost.