Chapter 97: Chapter 97

"Don’t act so innocent, Kiara," she sneered, pushing off the counter and stalking closer. "I know you are the masked girl, the height, everything, did you seduce him?. You think you can just waltz in and ruin everything I’ve worked for? You’re nothing but a parasite, latching onto things that aren’t yours."

I turned, leaning casually against the counter, and met her gaze head-on. "Interesting theory. You might want to adjust your facts, though. I didn’t tell Jason a damn thing. If your little house of cards is crumbling, that’s on you."

Her eyes flashed with anger, her hands clenching at her sides. "Don’t lie to me. You are a manipulative little—"

"Careful, Joselle," I cut in, my voice sharp enough to make her pause. "You’re projecting a bit. Manipulative? Oh, darling, that’s rich coming from someone who’s built her entire existence on deceit."

She let out a humorless laugh, stepping closer until we were almost nose-to-nose. "You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Jason won’t want you. He’s just using you to get to me. And when he’s done, he’ll toss you aside like the trash you are."

I smirked, my calm demeanor unnerving her further. "At least I won’t have to sleep with half the board to stay relevant."

Her face reddened, her jaw tightening. "You bitch."

"Struck a nerve?" I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Let’s get one thing straight, Joselle. I don’t need Jason to validate my existence, unlike you. Whatever game you’re playing, I’ll win. Because unlike you, I don’t rely on lies and betrayal to stay afloat."

Her hands trembled slightly, but her anger overrode her composure. "You don’t know anything about me."

"Oh, but I do," I said, stepping closer and lowering my voice to a whisper. "You see, Jason and I talk. And we’ve been digging into some very interesting things about you. Like that little incident with Lucas’s father. Or how you conveniently managed to secure your position while people around you mysteriously fell apart. Should I continue?"

Joselle’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she quickly masked her shock. "You’re bluffing."

I leaned in, a wicked smile on my lips. "Am I? Tell me, Joselle, does the guilt keep you up at night? Or are you so soulless that you sleep like a baby?"

For the first time, she was at a loss for words. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

"Thought so." I turned back to the sink, casually fixing a stray strand of hair in the mirror. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than entertain your delusions."

"You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?" she hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

I glanced at her over my shoulder. "No, Joselle. I just think you’re pathetic."

With that, I walked out, leaving her standing there, stunned and seething.

I returned to Jason, who had shifted slightly in his seat, his posture exuding casual authority. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest, but his eyes flicked toward me as I approached.

"All set?" he asked, his tone light but his gaze sharp.

I nodded. "It’s all in place."

He didn’t press for details. Instead, he gestured to the stage where the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show.

The music began—a deep, bass-heavy rhythm that reverberated through the room. The models appeared one by one, strutting down the runway in high-end couture that glittered under the spotlights.

Each outfit was a masterpiece, the kind of art that made people gasp.

Jason leaned toward me slightly, his breath brushing my ear. "She’s going to make her entrance soon. The grand finale."

"Typical," I muttered, watching the models parade down the runway.

Finally, the lights dimmed further, and a hush fell over the audience. The music shifted to something sultry and dramatic, and there she was—Joselle.

She stepped onto the runway like she owned the place, her every move radiating confidence and elegance. She was breathtaking, I had to admit.

The frazzled, bitter woman I’d faced earlier in the restroom was nowhere to be seen. This Joselle was polished to perfection, every inch the supermodel she claimed to be.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. "She knows how to play a part."

"That’s her specialty," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

The audience erupted in applause as Joselle reached the end of the runway, pausing to strike a pose that sent camera flashes exploding like fireworks. Her smug smile spread across her face as if she’d already won the evening.

Jason glanced at me, his smirk growing. "Ready?"

I nodded, barely able to contain my anticipation.

As Joselle made her way back down the runway, the large LED screen behind her flickered, and the music faltered for a split second.

I straightened in my seat, my heart pounding as the screen came to life, displaying something that wasn’t part of the show.

It was Joselle—but not the glamorous version strutting down the runway. No, this was raw footage: Joselle shouting at an assistant backstage, throwing a tantrum over something trivial.

The audience murmured in confusion, but before Joselle could react, the footage changed.

The screen now showed her with a man—a man who wasn’t Jason.

She was sitting on his legs giggling, he kissed her neck. The man’s face was blurred, but one could hear his voice.

"You are here because Jason can’t give you the finale spot on the Paradise show. Trouble in paradise?"

Joselle scoffed, "You think I care about Jason?" Joselle sneered on the screen. "He’s just a stepping stone. Once I’ve secured my position, he’s history."

The crowd gasped, the murmurs growing louder.

On the runway, Joselle froze, her confident demeanor crumbling.

The footage continued, revealing more damning details, documents she’d forged, shady deals she’d made, and a heated argument with a photographer where she threatened to ruin his career if he didn’t comply.

Paparazzi took photos, questions flying around, Joselle remained frozen as she stared.

Jason leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable, but I could see the satisfaction in his eyes.

Joselle spun on her heel, glaring into the audience as if searching for the culprit. Her eyes locked onto me, and for a moment, it felt like the entire room held its breath.

I tilted my head slightly, offering her a sweet smile.

Her face contorted in fury, and she stormed off the runway, disappearing behind the curtain.

"Well," Jason said, his voice dripping with amusement, "that went better than I expected."

I exhaled, realizing I’d been holding my breath. "She’s not going to take this lying down."

"She doesn’t have a choice," Jason replied, his tone confident. "Everything we just showed is enough to bury her career. She’ll be scrambling to save face for months."

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