Chapter 193
The completion of The Queen of Fashion was fraught with challenges.
Every scene was meticulously shot, every costume carefully designed, and every note of the
soundtrack refined.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, I stood on a red carpet.
Cameras flashed, and reporters buzzed with excitement as they awaited the premiere of The Queen
of Fashion..
It was a moment I had dreamed of for years, yet my mind was elsewhere.
Lirian stood at my side, his presence grounding me.
The team poured their hearts into this project, and when the cameras stopped rolling, their
determination didn’t waver.
The entire cast and crew were brimming with anticipation for the release, confident that our hard work would resonate with audiences.
During the promotional period, I threw myself into the spotlight, attending interviews, posing for photo shoots, and engaging with fans.
The effort paid off handsomely.
On the first day of the film’s release, the box office shattered expectations, and praise began to flood
- in.
Critics lauded the performances, the screenplay, and the breathtaking visuals.
My name, once obscure, was now on the lips of moviegoers everywhere.
But just as I began to savor the success, a staff member rushed toward me, their face pale.
Sophia, you need to check Twitter right now.”
Confused, I took out my phone, only to be confronted with my name trending for all the wrong
reasons.
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SophiaTheBully
RevealingSophia’sPast
#Linda’sPianoSmashed
A video from my high school years had resurfaced–a video of me smashing Linda’s piano during the school anniversary performance..
It was an incident I hadn’t thought about in years, one where I’d exposed Linda’s manipulation in front of everyone.
But this version had been edited to remove my accusations and the proof of her schemes.
Instead, the video painted me as an aggressor.
To make matters worse, someone had interviewed several of my former classmates, who eagerly piled on accusations.
Yes, Sophia always had it out for Linda,” a boy said in the video, his voice dripping with righteous indignation.
“She tore up Linda’s test papers, poured ink into her drawer, and even led the girls in the class to colate her. She could get away with anything because she was the Alpha’s sister.”
Another added, “Linda endured so much because Sophia’s family influence protected her. Now look at her–Sophia’s a movie star and a Luna, while Linda’s still struggling. It’s so unfair.“
The narrative spread like wildfire.
The box office for The Queen of Fashion began to take a hit as people rallied behind Linda’s smaller; largely ignored film.
Audiences, drawn by pity and a thirst for drama, flocked to support her instead.
The director and investors, who had been ecstatic just days ago, now called me with carefully
worded concerns.
“Sophia, we trust you, but this situation is… problematic. The backlash is affecting our numbers. Do you think you can address it quickly?”
I assured them I would.
handle it,” I said firmly. “Trust me.”
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The director hesitated but finally said,
We’re with you. Just… be careful.
The next morning. I received a summons to return to Moon Shadow, delivered with all the formality Arman could muster.
It wasn’t a request–it was a command.
As I arrived at the packhouse, memories of my past here flooded back, bringing a mix of emotions.
The once majestic estate, a symbol of Moon Shadow’s power, now seemed shrouded in a sense of
decline.
The hallways were dim, and the staff carried out their duties with quiet efficiency, their eyes betraying unease.
When I entered his office, Arman sat behind a heavy wooden desk, his fingers steepled as he regarded me with a cold, brooding expression.
The air was thick with unspoken accusations.
His once–dominant figure seemed diminished, and the slight limp in his gait–an unhealed reminder
of battles long past–was evident as he stood to greet me.
“Close the door,” he said curtly, waving a hand at the open doorway.
I complied, leaning against the frame for a moment longer than necessary.
“I see you haven’t lost your penchant for theatrics,” I said lightly, brushing imaginary lint off my sleeve.
Arman ignored my comment, his piercing gaze scrutinizing me.
“After fooling around outside for so long, you haven’t made any progress. Now it has become such a mess, affecting the images of both Moon Shadow and Iron Claw packs.
Hurry up and hand over the company to the pack, and then go and make a public apology,” he snapped, his tone as sharp as a blade.
I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“Hand over my company?”
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frepeated slowly, as though he were speaking another language.
And why exactly would I do that?”
