?Chapter 293:
Panic had already overtaken the control room. One staff member stammered, “M-Mr. Sampson, it wasn’t us. We didn’t load that video. Something’s wrong with the system—we can’t shut it down.”
“What the fuck?” Dunn rushed to the console, quickly scanning every input and control. No matter what buttons he pressed or switches he flipped, nothing worked—the screen wouldn’t go dark, and not even a full shutdown was responding. “This is insane! Who’s pulling the strings behind this mess?”
Frustrated and furious, Dunn mmed his fist against the control panel before storming out. By the time he made it back to the banquet hall, the final frame had already faded from the screen.
Unbeknownst to anyone in the room, the video had been cut, spliced, and crafted by Elliana herself. Rather than going for a formal documentary style, she’d leaned into the trending short-episode format, breaking it into scenes with carefully ced narration. Hailee stood at the heart of it all, and the video captured every moment from her initial meeting with Boris to everything that followed, recreating their entire journey from start to finish.
Every clip in the video came straight from reality—nothing was staged, nothing embellished. By diving deep into private systems, Elliana had unearthed hours of hidden surveince footage and transformed it into a hauntingly honest visual narrative. Rather than dramatizing the story, she let the raw truth do all the talking. What made it powerful wasn’t shy editing—it was the sincerity that poured from every frame.
Inside the banquet hall, not a single guest remained untouched by what they saw. Eyes welled up the moment Hailee appeared on screen, scarfing down a piece of bread while dashing between jobs, too rushed to sit, too tired to care.
A collective hush fell over the room when the footage showed Hailee rolling up her sleeve at a blood bank—again and again—just to cover Boris’s medical bills.
And by the time Hailee softly told the doctor she was willing to give up a kidney for Boris, an unmistakable tension gripped the crowd. Fists clenched. Jaws tightened.
When the videos ceased ying, the banquet hall plunged into absolute silence, as if someone had severed sound itself. A suffocating tension descended upon the gathering, palpable and oppressive. Dunn, slipping right back into the hall, clenched his eyes shut in a surge of white-hot rage. He couldn’t fathom how this sordid affair had been exposed so publicly. It wasn’t ssified information. Among their circle of privileged, carousing heirs, it circted asmon knowledge, a source of callous amusement. But this was an engagement celebration. Broadcasting such a scandal across the massive screen at this prestigious event delivered a devastating blow to both the Craig and Sampson dynasties, with consequences that would undoubtedly prove catastrophic.
???????? ???? ???????? ???????? → ??a???????ν???????????????
The Craig and Sampson family members standing beneath the stage appeared shattered, their expressions frozen in mortified disbelief. Trinity especially felt her heart convulsing with panic. The Craig and Sampson families’ influence had secured her position within the Evans household. If both families faltered, where would that leave her precarious standing? The Evans family members prided themselves on integrity, abhorring anything dishonorable. If these revtions proved authentic, they would inevitably withdraw support from the Craig family, dragging her status down into oblivion alongside them.
Trinity had always known Boris was a wild card, but could the damning evidence disyed in that video possibly be genuine? If so, Boris was about to demolish everything she had meticulously cultivated.
.
.
.