Chapter 132

If it weren't for the last-minute chaos that had everyone scrambling, those who got the inside scoop would’ve been glued to their phones, feverishly spreading the scandalous details.

Instead, they exchanged loaded glances, their eyes screaming with unspoken shock.

This is nuclear-level drama! Team A-list really played their cards right! The entertainment industry is about to implode tonight! Look—even Mr. Sharpe and Mr. Whitmore are stunned.

The confidential script had kept Preston and Donovan on edge all day, bracing for public backlash. But seeing the unfolding disaster, their stomachs dropped.

Backstage, they lit cigarettes, savoring the eerie calm before the storm.

As the stage lights dimmed, haunting background music swelled.

A deep male voice narrated, "History remembers the concubines who used their beauty to ensnare kings, forsaking morality for power, bringing ruin upon nations. They say a beautiful woman is always the root of calamity..."

Then—a sharp, mocking female voice cut in.

Everyone recognized it—Evelyn Sinclair’s voice.

"Oh, so now we’re blaming beautiful women for everything? Typical."

The live chat exploded with question marks.

Wait, wasn’t this supposed to be about corrupt confidants? What is this?

The audience sat frozen—except for the Blackwood family in the front row, practically vibrating with anticipation. Here it comes. The chaos is about to begin.

When people thought of infamous "disaster beauties," one name always came to mind: Anippe.

Right on cue, smoke billowed across the stage, revealing Julian Blackwood as King Haris and Evelyn as Anippe.

The set was a lavish, fake bathing pool—symbolizing decadence.

Julian lounged in the water, basking in luxury while Evelyn obediently fed him wine. She was the only concubine present.

Suddenly, a vassal stormed in, dropping to his knees. "Your Majesty, I beg you—halt the construction of the Star Tower! It’s draining the treasury and exhausting the people!"

Julian’s expression darkened. "How dare you question me? I built it for my beloved. Know your place!" He yanked Evelyn into his arms. "More wine, darling."

But Evelyn’s movements were stiff.

At first, viewers assumed she was nervous—until Julian gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Do you agree with them, my love? Don’t you want to ascend the tower with me? To seek immortality?"

Evelyn’s hands trembled. "Y-yes, of course."

It was then that the audience realized—she wasn’t playing a seductress. She was terrified of him.

"Witch!" The vassal pointed accusingly. "You’ve poisoned the king’s mind! Neglecting his duties for pleasure—I’ll kill you to break this spell!"

Evelyn flinched, hiding behind Julian as guards seized the vassal.

"Your Majesty, she’s the curse! Execute her, and the kingdom will be saved!"

Julian smirked. "I’ll execute you first."

A sword flashed—the vassal fell.

Then, the screen lit up with ancient texts, flooding with accusations:

"Anippe is a witch! She manipulated the king!"

"Destroy her, and Abrazia will prosper!"

"Death to the seductress!"

Darkness swallowed the stage—except for one spotlight on Evelyn, shaking behind Julian.

Her voice cracked with raw fury. "What did I ever do? Why am I the villain?"

She slapped Julian. "I was just a girl with a fiancé! The king took me by force! Could I refuse him? Could I command him? You blame me because he skipped court?"

She whirled on the dead vassal. "The tower was his idea! The cruelty was his choice! If beauty corrupts men, then execute every maid in the palace! Why just me?!"

Finally, she pointed at the screen, screaming, "You’re all cowards! Weak men hiding behind a woman’s skirts! The king was incompetent, his advisors useless—but I’m the disaster? I won’t accept this!"

The live chat erupted.

"Ohhh, Team A-list is flipping the script! Beauty isn’t the curse—men’s weakness is!"

"Seriously, why do we always blame women for kings being trash?"

"History’s written by winners—and winners love scapegoats."

Preston and Donovan held their breath, praying the discussion stayed philosophical.

But then—

"Wait, WHO is that actress? That’s not Evelyn!"

"Julian’s playing King Haris, so shouldn’t Evelyn be Coga?"

"Didn’t she quit acting after that CEO scandal?"

"Yeah, his wife leaked her tapes online. She got crucified and vanished!"

"Why would Team A-list hire her? She’s radioactive!"

Backstage, Lillian Graves stared at the actress—once blacklisted, now center stage. She remembered her desperate pleas, how no one believed her. The depression. The suicide attempts.

And yet—her acting had always been electric.

The internet only remembered the scandal.

But tonight?

She was rewriting her story.