CH 18
The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, the tide of public opinion turning against Sophia and Emma. Meanwhile, Olivia stood still, her expression calm, allowing the truth to settle in on its own. As the crowd’s judgmental murmurs grew louder, Sophia felt the weight of Emma’s suspicious gaze. Panic surged within her. If her lies unraveled here, would Emma and Liam cast her out of the Edwards family?
“I feel awful, Mom,” Sophia whispered, letting the mango slip from her hand as she reached for Emma. Her face turned pale, her breathing shallow. “Help me… I think my allergy is acting up again.”
The moment Emma saw her adopted daughter’s pitiful state, any shred of doubt dissolved. Concern for Sophia replaced her hesitation.
“Are you sure? Don’t scare me like this!” Emma exclaimed, gripping Sophia’s shoulders tightly.
“I’m not lying, Mom. I really—” Sophia’s voice trailed off, and her head lolled to the side as if she had fainted.
“Sophia!” Emma cried in alarm. “Someone, call an ambulance!”
But no one in the crowd moved. They all saw through Sophia’s transparent act.
Olivia stood by, unimpressed, watching the scene unfold with detached amusement. I’ll give her credit—Sophia’s a master manipulator, she thought. Even when cornered, Sophia could spin a new web of deceit.
“I know a bit of medicine,” Olivia offered as she stepped forward.
“Don’t you dare!” Emma snapped, glaring daggers at her. “This is all your fault! Sophia wouldn’t have fainted if not for your scheming. And now you want to pretend to help her? Over my dead body!”
Olivia arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. “Do you honestly believe she’s unconscious and not pretending?”
Emma huffed indignantly. “I’ve taken care of Sophia for over ten years! Of course, I can tell when she’s pretending and when she’s not!” She turned to her bodyguards. “What are you waiting for? Call an ambulance!”
Finally, one of the guards pulled out a phone and made the call. Within minutes, the ambulance arrived, and Sophia was whisked away on a stretcher.
Olivia remained unbothered. She had anticipated this outcome. If exposing her were this easy, life would be far less entertaining, she thought. No, Sophia needed to experience true despair—a slow, agonizing descent into ruin.
“Miss Edwards,” Ava approached her hesitantly, awaiting instructions.
Olivia raised a hand, cutting him off, and turned to address the crowd. Her voice was firm, authoritative.
“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of EMILY GRANT, I sincerely apologize for the events that have transpired today. What should have been a prestigious fashion competition has turned into a disgraceful spectacle. I assure you, EMILY GRANT herself is deeply disappointed by this turn of events. As her representative, I hereby announce that Sophia Matthews is officially blacklisted from the fashion industry. A person who brings such shame has no place among us.”
The audience erupted in applause, their approval of Olivia’s decision evident. Even those who might have disagreed dared not speak out—Olivia’s connection to EMILY GRANT was too powerful to challenge.
In the backstage lounge, Olivia sat on a plush couch, casually flipping through the competition report. Her face betrayed no emotion.
“Transfer the championship to the runner-up,” she instructed, tossing the document onto the table. “And ensure that today’s incident is handled properly in the media. The Edwards family must not be allowed to exploit this event to stir up further trouble.”
“Understood,” Ava said, nodding. After a pause, he hesitated. “Miss Edwards, why not claim the championship yourself? You registered as a competitor.”
Olivia glanced at him sidelong, her expression tinged with amusement. “I entered the competition for Emma’s approval. Now that I no longer need it, the championship holds no value for me.”
Ava nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. The Edwards family has no idea what they’ve thrown away, he thought bitterly. They’ve cast aside a treasure beyond measure.
If they ever discovered that Olivia—the daughter they reEmily Grantcted—was EMILY GRANT herself, an elite designer who commanded the industry’s resources, would they drown in regret?
“My identity stays confidential,” Olivia said coolly.
“Of course,” Ava replied.
Olivia rose from her seat and exited the lounge, her movements graceful and confident.
Outside, Ethan waited, casually spinning his wheelchair to face her as she approached.
“Were you waiting for me?” Olivia asked, taking the handles of the wheelchair without hesitation.
“Isn’t that part of my duty as your husband?” Ethan replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.
