Chapter 265

"Plus I saw it live—when the stage scaffolding collapsed, Rose was still under it. Alaricka ran over twice trying to pull her away. Front row seats, 20/20 vision—I clearly saw Rose slap Alaricka’s hand away (Oh my god, am I allowed to say this?). Absolutely intentional!"

"Then everyone saw Alaricka rush to save Rose, only to get her leg crushed by the scaffolding. Meanwhile, Rose was perfectly fine, protected by her CEO boyfriend. Let’s be clear: had Alaricka stayed put, that scaffolding wouldn’t have touched her. Judging by that alone, her character’s unquestionable."

"Preach, comment above."

"Seriously? Are you Alaricka’s paid troll? Why so few upvotes? Is Alaricka that broke? Can’t even afford a few trolls? Pathetic. All I know is our Rose is the true champion. Even if someone stole the trophy, everyone remembers Rose’s score was higher."

"When did Alaricka ever save Rose? Rose was rescued by her CEO boyfriend, hello? Can Alaricka stop shamelessly claiming credit for things she didn’t do? The audacity!"

Online opinion is easily manipulated. When one narrative dominates, opposing voices get drowned out and buried—silenced before they surface.

Alaricka could tell Roschelle had mobilized nearly all the marketing accounts across every industry. The sheer scale of this new media matrix was terrifying—even A-list celebrities couldn’t afford such an extensive campaign.

The skyrocketing buzz drew swarms of internet bystanders feasting on the drama like it was prime entertainment.

"Wait, so someone tried an insurance scam on this gorgeous lady? Who’d be that delusional?"

"Holy crap, whose little princess is Roschelle Whitaker? She actually got all these media outlets and influencers to hype her up. Your Highness, this humble servant shall take his leave now."

"Building on that—my family has some ties with the Whitakers. Their century-old dynasty has terrifying influence. Pocket change to them could fund a family for generations. Roschelle’s the only great-granddaughter. Imagine her status—doted on by parents and grandparents alike. A literal princess."

"Jumping in as an entertainment industry bystander: I dug into Roschelle’s background. Nearly choked when I saw it. Her family runs the multi-billion dollar Polyglot Group based in Birkwell. And her boyfriend? Kieran Argent. Everyone knows the Argent family’s clout. Rumor has it they’re getting engaged soon—a power merger. Apparently, they’ve been dating since high school. Each other’s first loves."

"Tsk. A CEO raging for his beauty because some villainess framed the innocent heroine? Straight out of a novel. Guess I’m the internet mob losing their minds in the comment section."

Alaricka scrolled through the posts, her emotions eerily still.

In her past life, she’d endured far more vicious curses and slander. Her phone had constantly buzzed with strangers' hate—blocking them all was impossible.

This current storm felt manageable. At least Lindsey Weaver was no longer just Roschelle’s “former alias,” but a real person who’d once breathed.

At least Yearning Sonata wasn’t Roschelle’s personal blood-sucking leech anymore.

But while she could shoulder this, others might not.

Ever since the hashtags exploded online, her phone hadn’t stopped pinging—classmates and friends flooding her inbox. Jaylene’s messages piled up fastest.

Alaricka replied to a handful before silencing her phone to focus on studying.

That afternoon, Paloma Wyatt visited, bringing the Mcintosh Piano Competition championship trophy.

"This belongs to you," Paloma offered, extending the award.

Seated on her bed, Alaricka eyed the trophy with detached calm. After a pause, her voice flattened: "Take it back, Ms. Wyatt. I don’t need it."

Paloma massaged her temples. "First Roschelle refuses it, now you? What’s gotten into you?"

Alaricka’s lips thinned. "Have you seen what they’re saying about me online? Accepting this would just give them more ammunition."

She didn’t want a trophy Roschelle had discarded.