Chapter Twenty-OneMiana and Jason managed to slip through the service entrance by bribing a panicked waiter, but the air inside the Grand Azure Pavilion felt like ice against their skin. They moved quickly through the shadows of the massive marble pillars, looking like fallen royalty. Miana’s eyes darted frantically across the room. She had to find the venue head before the sun rose on a completely bankrupt family."There!" Jason hissed, pointing an unsteady finger toward the raised VIP dais. His chest puffed out as his old, petty arrogance returned. "Standing right near the crystal flutes. That is Chase Goodman.""That is him," Miana whispered, her heart hammering violently against her ribs. "That must be the boss Adrian mentioned. He is the one who bought the pavilion. He is the one who froze our credit.""Let me handle it," Jason muttered, smoothing his designer jacket. He still genuinely believed Adrian played a cheap prank with a stolen phone key. "We expose the scholarship rat's

Chapter Twenty-ThreeThe following day Lina stood at the iron gates, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was back in her standard school uniform—neat and pressed, but incredibly cheap compared to the Northwest students gliding past her in high-end designer pieces."Are you sure about this, Adrian?" Lina whispered.Adrian stood right beside her, his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his worn hoodie. To any passerby, he looked like a delivery boy who lost his way. "Don't worry, Lina. Vipers only hiss when they are afraid. Just remember you aren't here to beg. You are here to collect the Wildcard."They entered the Private Training Hall, and the heavy double doors slammed shut behind them with a metallic thud.Miana Sterling waited in the center of the gym floor. She wasn't scrubbing marble wine stains anymore—at least not after last night. She stood flanked by six girls from the Northwest Elite Squad, all of them crossing their arms with nasty, practiced smirks. In the corner,

Chapter Twenty-FiveEveryone returned to their seats as the cheerleading candidates walked side by side onto the stage, the bright team ribbons dangling around their wrists.The school proprietor offered a fragile, terrified smile as he led Lina and her makeshift squad to the center podium. “I am truly sorry for the administrative errors that occurred earlier today. The division boards have agreed to a complete rematch. This time, we will provide a fair judgment based purely on talent and athletic skill.”Standing next to the microphone, Chase Goodman glanced at the proprietor with cool contempt, his eyes flicking over the disgraced, pale faces of the Sterling and Whitmore families sitting in the front row.“Allow me to be blunt, Proprietor,” Chase’s voice cut through the auditorium like a chilled blade. “Miss Lina’s talent is self-evident. She did not just perform; she triumphed while being actively sabotaged by people who are not fit to lace her sneakers. My boss has absolutely zero

Chapter Twenty-SevenThe line clicked, and a cold voice answered almost immediately. Martha did not waste a single breath. “Alice, it’s me. Please… can you give me Benedict’s number?”Silence stretched over the receiver. Adrian watched Martha's face turn a brittle shade of pale as the silence dragged on. When Alice finally spoke, her voice carried a slow, mocking weight. “Martha? It has been a long time. Why on earth would I give you his number? I heard your family business went completely under last week.”Martha’s fingers trembled violently against her phone. She knew Alice was a nasty, status-obsessed woman, but desperation forced her hand. Before she could beg, Alice let out a sharp, condescending laugh.“Well, we are old friends, after all,” Alice murmured smoothly. “Benedict is right here. I will tell him to call you. I saw Lina’s little picture on that magazine cover, by the way. Very cute. It must be hard for her trying so hard to look rich now that you are broke.”“Thank you,

Chapter Twenty-NineLeo scrambled away from the counter, his face pale as he dashed into the back hallway.Benedict stood there, tapping his heavy signet ring against the marble counter in a rhythmic, arrogant beat."You see, Auntie?" Benedict said, throwing a smug glance at Martha. "The clerk is terrified. He is probably in the back right now telling Donnie Fang that a titan of the East District is waiting. Managers like Donnie are like street dogs; you have to snap the leash occasionally to remind them who owns the park."Martha beamed, her chest swelling with pride. "You are so right, Benedict. Influence is a language that only people of our status speak. Unlike some people…" She spared a disgusted glance through the thick glass at Adrian, who stood like a statue in the burning sun. "Who think holding a piece of cardboard is the way to get ahead in life. How pathetic. He looks like a beggar waiting for scraps."Inside the private office, Donnie Fang was hunched over his desk, sweat