Chapter 694

The social media storm surrounding Stellar Stage Entertainment and Beaconsfield College was a force to be reckoned with.

Hundreds of thousands of comments bombarded the college’s official Twitter page, each one screaming for the institution to revoke Brielle’s degree. “A student like that is an embarrassment to Beaconsfield College!” they cried out in digital uproar.

Despite the online frenzy, Beaconsfield College, a titan in the academic rankings, remained silent, biding its time.

Behind closed doors, the college’s leadership—many of whom had climbed the ranks from professorship—convened in urgent meetings. Those who had taught Brielle held a fondness for the bright and diligent student. To them, her brilliance was not simply intelligence but raw talent.

Effort determined one’s lower limits, but talent set the ceiling.

Dorsey International was backing them and had insisted that the college stand by Brielle. The faculty’s resolve only hardened.

They would protect this exceptional pupil at all costs. So, as the Twitter feed descended into chaos, the college focused instead on compiling Brielle’s impressive academic record, ready to silence the critics with cold, hard facts.

Meanwhile, at Stellar Stage Entertainment, the tension was palpable. Silence had fallen in the dance studio, where artists usually honed their craft. Donny walked among them, feeling the weight of their collective despair. He sighed and rallied them with a few choice words. “Keep practicing, folks. Put your faith in Ms. Haywood.”

Donny’s belief in Brielle was unshakable. Despite their brief acquaintance, he was convinced she had a plan up her sleeve, that her silence was just the calm before the storm.

“Ms. Haywood won't let Stellar Stage down. She won't abandon us.”

His simple words rekindled a spark within the despondent group. A young woman wiped away her tears and stood tall, her voice breaking the silence. “Ms. Haywood got rid of that boss who used to bully me. | trust her! She'll pull us through!”

The others were inspired. They rose to their feet and resumed their routines as if the outside world’s anger didn’t exist. Their dreams and beliefs slowly took root once more, and Donny watched with a nod, confident in the resilience of these young talents—and Ms. Haywood’s loyalty to them.

Outside, the vitriol continued unabated. Online, the hateful comments persisted. Nearly a million comments piled up beneath Brielle’s social media posts, yet she remained silent.

Amelia watched the chaos unfold with a smirk barely concealed. “This is what happens when you cross me,” she thought.

“People like Brielle, like John, belong at the bottom.”

She let out a cold laugh. It was clear that Kenzo’s script was soon to be back in her possession. Brielle desired the script, but she seemed to have forgotten to check if she even had the capability to handle it.

Beside Amelia sat a youthful male artist, her new object of fascination. Given her uplifting mood, she planned on spending some “quality time‘ with him in the master bedroom.

Their clothes had barely hit the floor when shouts echoed from outside the room. “Ms. Amelia! Something is wrong!”

Awave of annoyance washed over Amelia as she slipped a robe over her body and rose from the bed. “What’s wrong now?! Isn’t everything going according to my plan?!”

“Check online right now!”

F-Fas The distress displayed by her secretary gave Amelia pause and, with a sense of apprehension, she clicked on the trending news.

Brielle had posted on social media half an hour ago.

[Amelia’s portrayal of herself is intriguing. Is she really a man—phobic, hardworking woman? Everyone in the industry knows about her wild parties and explicit videos with men. Be careful, Amelia, you never know who has copies of those scandalous videos.]

Before this revelation, a video of Amelia had already made it to the trending topics. It was a video of her with a man, two men, countless men. If it were just pictures, she could have claimed they were fabricated, but the videos showed it all in high definition. The words, the faces, the gestures; it was unmistakably her.

“Amelia, did your ex-husband really cheat on you?”

“He’s too dense to cheat.”

“Did he really mistreat you?”

“No, but under those circumstances, if | say he’s abusive, then he is.”