Chapter 45

Derek Snow's Starfeed post detonated like a depth charge, instantly igniting the entire internet.

Nine-grid photos, bank transfer records, and chat screenshots—the evidence was irrefutable.

Award-winning actor Damian Cross personally reposted with a comment: "Aria Bennett is the most dedicated actress I've ever worked with. Some people should know their limits."

The comment section exploded.

"Holy crap! Grant Mercer is next-level shameless. Three years with Aria, and this is how he treats her?"

"Sisters, check the third photo! Grant and Serena Blake were secretly meeting at a hotel last year!"

"Ugh! So they've been sneaking around all this time, pretending to be mentor and protégé?"

"Aria got played hard—milked for three years and then framed."

"Grant Mercer, get out of the entertainment industry!"

The top three trending hashtags were dominated:

#GrantMercerScum

#SorryAriaBennett

#SerenaBlakeHomewrecker

Grant's hands trembled as he gripped his phone.

He had deleted all this evidence—how did it resurface?

The worst was the hotel photo, timestamped on Aria's birthday.

Ding. A notification chimed—his special alert.

Serena messaged him: "What do we do? My fans are demanding answers about the photo."

Sweat beaded on Grant's forehead. If Nolan Reed found out...

His phone vibrated violently. The caller ID flashed: "Mr. Reed."

His fingers slipped, and the phone clattered to the floor.

Meanwhile, at a Michelin three-star restaurant...

Serena bit her straw, eyes glistening. "Logan... I'm so scared..."

Logan Price seized her wrist. "Don’t worry. I’ll have the hashtag buried."

He dialed a number. "Suppress #SerenaBlakeHomewrecker. Now."

A pause. "What do you mean you can’t?"

Serena's tears splattered onto the napkin.

Logan's expression darkened. "Find out who this Derek Snow really is."

The newly served steak sizzled on the plate—a perfect mirror to the internet’s raging fury.

Grant shakily picked up his phone. Twenty-three missed calls.

A new notification popped up:

"Mr. Reed: Conference room. 9 AM tomorrow."

Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, neon lights painted the city. For the first time, Grant wondered if this would be his last night seeing them.