?Chapter 1157:


    Yvonne froze, staring nkly at the crowd gathered near the side entrance, unsure of what to do.


    Just as she made up her mind to turn and leave, someone in the throng spotted her.


    “It’s her!” the person shouted. “It’s Yvonne!”


    All heads turned toward her. In an instant, the crowd surged forward, eyes zing with anger.


    “So you’re Yvonne! You’re the one disrupting the magazine industry?”


    “How many people have you manipted so far?”


    Yvonne shook her head, trying to defend herself. “I never—”


    But her words were drowned out by the furious shouts. She stumbled, struggling to keep her bnce as people swarmed around her, shoving her toward the center.


    Some couldn’t resist putting their hands on her, pushing her roughly until she fell to the ground.


    “You manipting bitch!”


    “You’re a pest in the industry!”


    “Stylist Magazine is destroying the industry!”


    “Why don’t you just disappear?”


    Their vile insults rang out, voices shrill and piercing in Yvonne’s ears. Instinctively, she curled into herself and covered her ears, even as fingers pointed at her from all directions.


    But the mob had no intention of letting up. If anything, their shouts grew louder, their anger fiercer.


    Yvonne’s vision began to blur. A sharp ringing filled her head, and reality started to warp, blending with repressed memories.


    She was transported back to the time when her family had gone bankrupt—when she had been driven out, shoved, and cursed by her father’s creditors.


    “Pay up, Yvonne! Take responsibility for your father’s mistakes!”


    “If you don’t pay, we’ll make sure you face the consequences!”


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    The faces that had surrounded her in the past were just as menacing now, demanding her blood.


    “I’ll pay you back,” Yvonne mumbled in a daze, tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t hurt me…”


    Her voice was so faint it was barely more than a whisper. She felt utterly powerless and didn’t even know what she had done wrong.


    A few feet away, Margie was desperately trying to push through the crowd, but it was no use. Her anxiety grew with each passing second.


    “Yvonne! Yvonne!” she kept calling, but her voice was swallowed up by the chaos.


    Among the crowd were several reporters, their cameras shing in a frenzy as they captured the scene like vultures circling their prey.


    Margie stepped in front of one of them. “Stop taking pictures! I said, stop it!” But, once again, no one listened.


    Gritting her teeth, Margie pulled out her phone and called the police.


    It didn’t take long before sirens wailed down the street, and armed officers entered the building, ordering everyone to disperse.


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