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17kNovel > The Queen They Buried > Tried 377

Tried 377

    <b>Chapter </b>377


    <b>Bree </b>Technology put out <b>a </b>statement<b>. </b>They were holding a press conference <b>to </b>talk about the whole GrabCheap selling shoddy goods mess.


    *****


    This <b>was </b>the first time <b>since </b>the GrabCheap <b>scandal </b>broke out that <b>Bree </b>Technology <b>was </b>stepping up to face the press directly.


    In an instant, every <b>reporter </b>who’d been eyeing this <b>story </b>went absolutely nuts. If they couldnd an exclusive scoop, that meant money in the bank.


    At the moment, the two hottest stories around were Bree Technology and thetest rumors swirling about Trevor.


    Compared to the entertainment <b>gossip </b>that <b>was </b>just <b>a </b>bit of fun, the Bree Technology scandal–where actual lives were at stake <b>-was </b>way more attention–grabbing.


    To make things even juicier, Aubree, Bree Technology’s biggest shareholder and chairwoman, just happened to be Trevor’s


    sister.


    So even if the reporters couldn’t get the inside scoop on GrabCheap, digging for dirt on Trevor was still a scoop worth cashing


    in on.


    Before Quantavius’s people could even <b>act</b><b>, </b>they got invitations from <b>Bree </b>Technology to attend the press conference.


    When Quantavius heard the news, he burst outughing. “Does Aubree really think <b>she’s </b>all that? Does she <b>see </b>herself as some kind of savior now?<b>” </b>


    He thought, ‘Inviting the very people I’ve already bought off? She must have a death wish.


    “If Aubree’s <b>so </b>eager to dig her own grave, who am I to stop her?” Quantavius sneered. Not only did he let those people ept the invitation, but he also nned to show up to <b>see </b>what kind of <b>spectacle </b>Aubree thought she could pull off.


    He was genuinely curious to see what tricks this <b>so</b><b>–</b>called young startup genius had up her <b>sleeve</b>.


    With everyone eager to see the drama unfold, Bree Technology’s <b>press </b>conference <b>was </b>packed to the rafters. All the major media outlets in Südlichen Strand showed up, and even the smaller ones that didn’t get an invite were scrambling for any way to sneak inside.


    Aubree had booked the biggest hotel in Südlichen Strand, but even that wasn’t enough. There wasn’t a single empty seat, and there was barely any room to stand.


    When the hotel doors swung open, camera shes exploded everywhere, lighting up the entire venue brighter than a summer sunrise–the overhead lights werepletely drowned out.


    The bodyguard opened the car door, and Aubree led the way. She wore a dark red <b>coat </b>and knee–high boots, her face lightly made up. She might have only been a little over five <b>feet </b>four, but she carried <b>herself </b>with the <b>presence </b><b>of </b>someone twice her height.


    Birgitte followed close behind, dressed in <b>a </b>sharp business <b>suit </b>and high <b>heels</b><b>, </b>her aura every bit asmanding as Aubree’s.


    Vincent Sloan, suited up and wearing <b>sses</b><b>, </b>walked on the other side. Unlike the two women’s sharp presence, he wore a sly, fox–like smile.


    A group of top executives trailed behind them.


    The people closest to the aisle weren’t the reporters with their cameras, but a group of “victims” <b>dressed </b>in mourning clothes. Every single one of them had a mourning band tied around their <b>head</b>, their <b>tear</b>–filled <b>eyes </b>locked on Aubree as she walked


    past.


    They’d even brought a stretcher<b>, </b>draped with a white sheet. Anyone could tell at a nce that <b>there </b>was a body underneath.


    One of them said, “Aubree, you heartless witch!”


    Another said, “Give me back my loved one’s life<b>!</b>”


    Someone else said, “Why don’t you just die already?”


    4.50 PM


    Aubree’s face didn’t <b>even </b>twitch. She suddenly turned back to them with <b>a </b>smile. “I’m alive and kicking. Why should I be the one to <b>die</b>?


    “Don’t go dumping all your dirt on me. Are you seriously telling me you don’t know how this person died?


    “Even if you really don’t remember, that’s fine. <b>I’ll </b>help jog your memory in a bit.”


    She <b>was </b>totally fearless, acting like she had nothing to worry about at all.


    The reporters exchanged confused nces. They’d all assured Aubree was holding this press conference to make a public apology and do some damage control, but from the looks of it, that wasn’t the <b>case </b><b>at </b>all.


    The one who was yelling the loudest froze when Aubree locked eyes with her. She forgot to cry, tears brimming in her eyes, a flicker of guilt shing across her face before she quickly put on that mask of resentment again.


    She spat, “My brother was killed by you, you cold–hearted woman.


    “If it weren’t for your tform, where you only care about making money and don’t give a damn about product quality, my brother wouldn’t have eaten that tainted stuff and lost his life.


    We’re just poor folks, working our fingers to the bone, thinking maybe some kind–hearted soul would finally notice us. Who knew you were just a heartless woman<b>, </b>even eyeing the few pennies we have left in our pockets<b>!</b><b>” </b>
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