?Chapter 205:


    Jarrod’s anger red. He wanted to storm the stage, rip Maia out of that seat, and demand an exnation. The venue buzzed with confusion and doubt.


    Industry veterans exchanged uneasy nces, their frowns deepening. They’de to see K, not Maia Watson — this ex-con, this woman with a tainted past, now sitting where the most reveredposer in the industry once sat.


    They called for the live broadcast to be stopped, insisting that Maia be removed from the panel without dy. The organizers were in full panic mode.


    They’d seen Brielle bring Maia to the judges’ table and assumed that Brielle was K. How could they have known this was Maia Watson, fresh from prison and riddled with scandal?


    “Quick, director! Switch to anothermercial!” the head of the organizingmittee barked, his voiceced with panic.


    He regretted every decision that had led to this live broadcast disaster. A pre-recorded show could have spared them this disaster, and now, with the live broadcast in full swing, the organizer was drowning in regret.


    Suddenly, a hand pped onto his shoulder.


    Pattie appeared at his side, a yful smile tugging at her lips.


    “Why the panic?” she asked, her voice calm and full of amusement.


    “Ms. Miller, my sincerest apologies,” the event organizer’s leader stammered, wiping the sweat that sprang to his brow. “Something unexpected hase up. Someone is masquerading as K. We’ll need to suspend the livestream.”


    Pattie arched an eyebrow, her tone brooking no argument. “Don’t stop!”


    “What?” the organizer blurted out, clearly thrown off bnce.


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    “If you suspend the broadcast, I’ll pull my funding. The choice is yours,” Pattie dered, arms folded tightly across her chest, her tone leaving no room for argument.


    “Why? What’s happening here?” the organizer stuttered, panic painting his face with wide, frantic strokes.


    Just then, Brielle’s steady,posed voice crackled through the earpiece, cool as a mountain spring. Unflinchingly, she rattled off the list of names she had memorized, pausing pointedly on Rosanna’s. “Kindly remove these troublemakers from thepetition, or I’ll be forced to withdraw.”


    The organizer’s leader stood there, stunned into silence, as if struck by lightning.


    Meanwhile, Brielle picked up the microphone, turned to face the bewildered crowd, and spoke with a voice as clear andmanding as a bell. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce theposer and lyricist of ‘One More Day’ — Maia Watson. She is none other than the legendary K you have long admired.”


    The room fell into a stunned, breathless silence, as if the very air had been vacuumed away.


    Backstage in the control room, Pattie nced at the stunned organizer and gave a decisive nod. “You heard her loud and clear. Maia is K.” She leanedzily against the wall, a sly smile dancing on her lips, like a cat who knew the canary had no escape. “The MCN ads are ready to roll. Stopping the broadcast now would mean a catastrophic loss of audience and a mountain of breach-of-contract penalties.”


    The organizer groaned, pping his forehead, and barked out frantic orders.


    “Everyone, resume the livestream! Emcee, introduce her properly — she’s K, Maia Watson is K, got it? Introduce her with the honor she deserves! And escort those doubters out. We’ve got five minutes of ad time left. Make it count!”


    At once, the staff surged toward Rosanna and her group.


    Richard, still grappling with the revtion that Maia was K, stood frozen in disbelief. The staff members were ready to escort them out, but his mind was reeling, struggling to piece together the impossible truth.


    The shock hit him like a hammer blow, shattering his pride, dignity, and self-confidence into countless, irretrievable fragments. Confusion, helplessness, and regret washed over him like a relentless storm, devouring everything in its path.


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