At the dinner table, Edward Montgomery’s voice was heavy with authority. "You haven’t cleared up the online rumors, nor have you suppressed them. And now, you suddenly return to 'confess'—are you planning to go public with this relationship?"

"Yes," Marcellus Alexander replied evenly. "I want the whole world to know that Evangeline is my wife."

"Ha! With your power and influence, once Evangeline takes your name and becomes your wife, do you really think she can still walk the path she chose for herself?"

Marcellus fell silent. He understood that she wanted to achieve her dreams on her own terms, to carve out her own legacy without ever relying on her status as a Montgomery heiress to gain an advantage. How could she possibly want to be tethered to his shadow?

"Dad, I’m willing," Evangeline said softly.

Hearing her response, Edward’s brow twitched. He snapped, "Evangeline, do you intend to be like Cassidy? Losing your entire sense of self just because of a romance?!"

"Dad, I am not Cassidy, and Marcellus is not Jonah. I won’t take the shortcut just because it’s there."

Edward knew his daughter wasn't the type to take the easy way out, but his frustration was boiling over.

"Alright now, you'll give yourself indigestion if you keep stewing like that." Marilyn Montgomery dropped a piece of steak into Edward’s bowl, signaling with her eyes for him to pipe down.

Edward let out a sharp scoff and fell silent. The rest of the meal was suffocatingly somber.

After the couple left, Marilyn continued to coax her grumpy husband. "The matter is settled. What are you going to do about it now?"

"It’s because I can’t do anything about it that I’m so angry!"

Marilyn chuckled. "I know. You just can’t bear to let our girl go."

"Ugh, that heartless girl—she just married herself off like that! My heart, it... it actually hurts!"

"The kids are grown, and they have their own opinions. As long as she’s happy, we shouldn't interfere so much."

"I still can’t swallow this. I really want to beat that boy to a pulp!"

"Oh, please. Didn't you see the way our daughter looked at him, heartbroken, the second you tried to lay a hand on him?"

"Sigh... my little cotton-tail... she’s already started leaking!"

Marilyn was growing impatient with his theatrics. How was this conversation never-ending? She simply stood up and headed upstairs, leaving him to sit alone and process his emotions.

Inside the car, Evangeline looked at the red, swollen mark on the man's face, her heart aching. "I’m sorry. I shouldn't have pulled you down to kneel with me."

"It’s not a grievance," Marcellus said, his eyes darkening with intensity. "I stole his greatest treasure. Having to do a little penance for that is hardly a high price to pay."

Evangeline felt her heart melt into a puddle. She decided then and there that she would love him even more—ten times, a hundred times more.

Meanwhile, the online firestorm continued to spread. The shares and comments had surpassed a million, filled with vitriol and humiliating insults.

That was until the official Harrison Corporation account posted a brief statement, throwing the internet into another frenzy. Speculation ran wild regarding the connection between the "Designer Number Eight" and the Harrison firm. Sharp-eyed netizens even claimed the man in the photo was none other than Jonah Harrison himself.

The narrative began to shift. Many were now shipping the two, citing their undeniable physical chemistry.

Watching from the desk, Damian Spencer noticed the man was still moving at a leisurely pace. He reminded him, "Your rival is already a step ahead of you in standing up for Miss Montgomery."

"I'm not worried. A plot twist is only interesting when the momentum shifts at the last second."

Seeing his calculated confidence, Damian teased, "That 'martyr' act you pulled today wasn't half bad."

Marcellus shot him a cold, lethal look. "Keep your mouth shut."

"Ha! Miss Montgomery really has you wrapped around her finger, doesn't she?"

"Are you mocking me? If you’re so talented, why don't you try winning over Miss Crawford without using my playbook?"

"Fair point! Let’s call it a draw, shall we?"

That afternoon, Montgomery Enterprises and the C&R Atelier began to share the original posts, responding with definitive statements. C&R Atelier posted a stunning photo of Evangeline from the Cannes Film Festival.

When fans of the studio asked if the rumors were true, the official account liked the comment and replied: "Yes!"

The comment section finally cleared of the hate. Just as everyone thought the drama was coming to a close, another boulder was dropped into the pond.

Marcellus Alexander tweeted at Evangeline, posting a photo of their marriage certificates. Evangeline immediately replied in kind, posting her own.

Instantly, the corporate titans of the city swarmed the post with blessings. It was a true tectonic shift. The netizens couldn't sit still—they even dug up photos of the two kissing in a park from months ago.

In less than twenty-four hours, the public sentiment flipped from mass mockery to universal adoration. The original poster, who had once had a promising career, saw it all go up in flames, sacrificed to the altar of her own jealousy. Even without considering her lack of integrity, no one dared to hire someone who had crossed Marcellus Alexander.

Back at the studio, Remi Crawford looked at a mountain of collaboration requests, her head throbbing. "Evangeline, how do we even choose from this lot? Our little studio is going to choke if we try to swallow all this at once."

"Take the ones from last night," Evangeline decided. "Reject everything that came in today."

Remi understood immediately. The ones from last night were interested in her talent; the ones from today were only interested in the power standing behind her.

"Got it!"

Remi agreed completely. There was no need to lose their rhythm. One couldn't get fat on a single meal—and trying to swallow too much too fast was the quickest way to suffocate.