Fiancée's Betrayal, I'll Crash Her Empire By Dawn - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
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Poor Miss Davison, getting played by a guy like that for years!
Scumbags like him deserve to be blacklisted permanently—no second chances in this industry!
My eyes skimmed the flood of hate pouring through the livestream chat. But my expression remained stone-cold.
I saw right through this charade.
This was all Shirley and Digby's doing—their pathetic attempt to destroy my reputation in front of everyone. But the louder they screamed now, the harder they'd crash and burn later.
When I didn't react, Shirley's confidence flickered. She leaned in, voice dropping to a hiss. "What's your game, Cyril? You think playing the victim will make me feel sorry for you?"
I barely glanced at her before looking away, not even dignifying that with a response.
Then, a group of high-profile clients approached, their eyes darting between Shirley and me with growing skepticism.
"Miss Davison," one ventured carefully, "are you absolutely certain about these claims? Mr. Martin... he doesn't strike us as the man you're describing."
Shirley stiffened for half a second before forcing a firm nod. "Positive. Don't let him fool you. Some people wear a respectable mask, but behind closed doors—" She left it hanging with dramatic flair.
Before she could finish, another client interrupted. "That doesn't add up. Mr. Martin's been one of our most reliable partners. We've worked with him—his professionalism speaks for itself."
Shirley's face went pale.
Digby jumped in, shoving his phone forward like a weapon. "Still skeptical? Fine—here's your proof! This video shows him sneaking into a hotel with another woman. Still think he's trustworthy?"
The clip played: me walking into a hotel with my sister. Taken out of context, sure, it looked questionable.
The clients exchanged uneasy looks. One turned to me, brow furrowed. "Mr. Martin, care to explain?"
I opened my mouth—but before I could speak, a pack of well-dressed women who'd seen the video descended on me, eyes blazing.
"So you've been playing all of us? Think you can just use women and ghost us?" One jabbed a manicured nail at my chest.
Another curled her lip. "No wonder you've been dodging my calls. Too busy cozying up to someone else, huh?"
"Cyril, you're disgusting. How dare you show your face here after seducing half the women in this industry!"
The accusations came like knives. Shirley and Digby watched, smug grins spreading. They really thought they'd won—that a few planted rumors had backed me into a corner.
"Ladies, relax," Digby oozed fake sympathy. "A man like him isn't worth your energy."
Shirley nodded, adding smugly, "Exactly. His reputation's toast. He'll never work in this town again."
As I took in their gloating faces, I almost pitied them—for what was about to happen next.
Then my phone buzzed. I answered with two words: "Do it."
The confusion flashing across Shirley and Digby's faces was priceless. They had no clue what was coming. But the fear in their eyes? That was real.
Scumbags like him deserve to be blacklisted permanently—no second chances in this industry!
My eyes skimmed the flood of hate pouring through the livestream chat. But my expression remained stone-cold.
I saw right through this charade.
This was all Shirley and Digby's doing—their pathetic attempt to destroy my reputation in front of everyone. But the louder they screamed now, the harder they'd crash and burn later.
When I didn't react, Shirley's confidence flickered. She leaned in, voice dropping to a hiss. "What's your game, Cyril? You think playing the victim will make me feel sorry for you?"
I barely glanced at her before looking away, not even dignifying that with a response.
Then, a group of high-profile clients approached, their eyes darting between Shirley and me with growing skepticism.
"Miss Davison," one ventured carefully, "are you absolutely certain about these claims? Mr. Martin... he doesn't strike us as the man you're describing."
Shirley stiffened for half a second before forcing a firm nod. "Positive. Don't let him fool you. Some people wear a respectable mask, but behind closed doors—" She left it hanging with dramatic flair.
Before she could finish, another client interrupted. "That doesn't add up. Mr. Martin's been one of our most reliable partners. We've worked with him—his professionalism speaks for itself."
Shirley's face went pale.
Digby jumped in, shoving his phone forward like a weapon. "Still skeptical? Fine—here's your proof! This video shows him sneaking into a hotel with another woman. Still think he's trustworthy?"
The clip played: me walking into a hotel with my sister. Taken out of context, sure, it looked questionable.
The clients exchanged uneasy looks. One turned to me, brow furrowed. "Mr. Martin, care to explain?"
I opened my mouth—but before I could speak, a pack of well-dressed women who'd seen the video descended on me, eyes blazing.
"So you've been playing all of us? Think you can just use women and ghost us?" One jabbed a manicured nail at my chest.
Another curled her lip. "No wonder you've been dodging my calls. Too busy cozying up to someone else, huh?"
"Cyril, you're disgusting. How dare you show your face here after seducing half the women in this industry!"
The accusations came like knives. Shirley and Digby watched, smug grins spreading. They really thought they'd won—that a few planted rumors had backed me into a corner.
"Ladies, relax," Digby oozed fake sympathy. "A man like him isn't worth your energy."
Shirley nodded, adding smugly, "Exactly. His reputation's toast. He'll never work in this town again."
As I took in their gloating faces, I almost pitied them—for what was about to happen next.
Then my phone buzzed. I answered with two words: "Do it."
The confusion flashing across Shirley and Digby's faces was priceless. They had no clue what was coming. But the fear in their eyes? That was real.
End of Fiancée's Betrayal, I'll Crash Her Empire By Dawn Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to Fiancée's Betrayal, I'll Crash Her Empire By Dawn book page.