Chapter 221:
The room hushed. The setting was spellbinding. For many in the audience, it was their first time witnessing something like this in person, and the atmosphere left them breathless.
Brandon sat up slightly, his brows knitting together once again. That strange, unshakable feeling of familiarity crept back over him.
Outside, the livestream played on countless screens.
At first glance, nothing stood out—the mermaid-themed set looked plain, even a bit cheap. Under the lighting, it resembled a toy display, plastic and overdone. But then the image flickered, and something changed. What had looked plain and forgettable blossomed into something arresting.
Some viewers, mid-sip, paused as they realized what had happened. The stage, which had seemed dull just moments ago, had come alive—its texture richer, the lighting softer and deeper, almost liquid.
What once appeared lackluster now shimmered in sharp focus.
The mermaid’s dress, its scaled fabric kissed by blue light, gleamed like ocean waves under moonlight—each glint casting Serena not just as a performer, but as something mythical.
And just like that, she held the room in the palm of her hand.
At their laptops, Seville and Alexia were practically glowing.
“Charles pulled it off!” Seville exclaimed.
“I thought we were done for—but this is just perfect!” Alexia added.
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“We’re finally taking control!”
“Time to shut those people up for good!”
“Millie is everything!”
Their excitement spilled over, laughter filling the room—unaware that Sheridan stood quietly nearby, listening with an amused smile.
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Backstage, Vivian checked the stream. Her expression faltered for just a second, but she quickly put her mask of composure back on. She excused herself to the restroom, and once out of sight of the cameras, pulled out her phone and called Oakley.
He answered quickly.
“What’s going on?” she snapped. “Didn’t we have this locked down? Why does the livestream look better?”
“Maybe it hasn’t kicked in yet. I’ll take care of it,” Oakley replied, trying to stay calm.
“Don’t forget what you promised,” she said coldly. “If Serena slips through your fingers, Charles will be harder to deal with.”
“I get it,” Oakley said, trying to stay calm.
But it was already too late. Oakley wouldn’t be the one to fix this, not now.
Charles stood posted at the door of the control room, arms crossed, a smug smirk playing on his lips. Around him, a few subdued saboteurs sat slumped, surrounded by his team. From a distance, Oakley approached, unaware that the game had already slipped out of his hands.
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