Chapter 4

Stella POV

The moment I finished speaking, with a loud 'CRACK,' the studio plunged into darkness. The lights, sound system, and all screens went blank at the same instant.

The entire space was plunged into sudden darkness, followed by gasps and murmurs from the audience.

In the dark, every sound was amplified.

Just then, I heard the click of a phone being hung up nearby.

Someone thought that would make me shut up.

However, the very next second, a voice unexpectedly cut through all the noise.

"Looks like my ex-husband's signature move is pulling the plug."

It was my voice.

I pulled out a powerful handheld megaphone from somewhere, turning the volume all the way up.

My calm, clear, even slightly playful voice was infinitely amplified in the darkness, reaching every corner.

"The last time he did that, it was to create a three-thousand-dollar artificial snowfall for his beloved first love, which immediately caused a power outage for businesses along the entire commercial street. He called it 'a brief darkness before illuminating your whole world.' We called it 'brain-dead romance'."

The audience was briefly silent, then erupted in unprecedented laughter.

The laughter echoed in the darkness, wave after wave.

Some people started raising their phones, and screens and flashlight beams flickered on across the audience.

Just then, rapid footsteps approached from the side of the stage.

Under the cover of darkness, Serena rushed towards me, her target clear: the megaphone in my hand.

I was prepared. With a slight shift of my foot, she stumbled and missed.

In the same fluid motion, I casually reached out, throwing her off balance. She stumbled forward, her cheek landing right against the megaphone's microphone.

"Ms. Thompson, are you trying to personally verify this old story for me?"

My voice, amplified through the megaphone with a faint static hum, clearly echoed throughout the entire venue.

"It's no wonder. Three years ago, some people thought you were struggling abroad, pursuing your artistic dreams. In reality, you were using his supplementary credit card for a two-hundred-thousand-dollar luxury treatment in Paris."

I pulled a folded piece of paper from my pocket.

Using the light from the audience's phones, I aimed the spending record at the nearest camera.

CRASH!

With a loud bang, the studio door was kicked open from the outside.

The emergency lights flickered on at that moment.

Light suddenly fell, casting the figure of the newcomer onto the stage curtain, his silhouette stretched, massive and distorted.

I looked at him, a cold smile curving on my lips.

I raised my hand and, in the light and shadow, made a shadow puppet of a small figure kneeling in surrender, aimed directly at his magnified shadow.

Then, I raised the megaphone to my lips and spoke my last words for the evening.

"So, some people's deep affection is only worth three thousand dollars and a fleeting, artificial snowfall."

As my words faded, the live stream signal, which had finally recovered, also cut out completely at that very moment.

The screen went black.

All discussions were forcibly cut short, leaving behind only the shock and speculation that hadn't yet been fully processed.

The live broadcast ended.

Deep in the underground parking lot, a black Bentley had turned off its engine.

The man in the car extinguished the cigarette between his fingers, quietly waiting for me to appear.