NovelApexWhen Joshua heard about Stella's competition, he insisted on coming to watch—no matter what.
Neither Stella nor Abby could dissuade him, so they gave in and let him tag along.
Fortunately, Neville had arranged for plenty of bodyguards, ensuring Joshua's safety was never in question.
The competition itself proceeded in an orderly fashion.
Most of the contestants performed with their usual confidence and consistency.
Only Felipa seemed shaken, making mistake after mistake.
When it was over, Felipa faced the host's interview, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I just... wasn't myself today. That's why | made so many
mistakes..."
She didn't play up her misfortune or mention the circumstances that had dragged her down. After all, repeating
the swoes too many times only breeds resentment.
Felipa's almost-confessional restraint, her reluctance to say more, left the audience's imagination running wild.
People began to wonder: Was it Stella's presence that had rattled her so badly?
Stella, for her part, remained entirely unfazed.
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When her turn came, there was a brief, heavy silence in the auditorium.
Then, someone started to boo. The sound caught on, growing louder, until the entire hall seemed to erupt in
jeers.
A voice rang out—"Get off the stage!"—and suddenly the crowd was out of control.
People pointed at Stella, shouting angrily.
"Get out of here! You're not welcome!"
"We refuse to watch the likes of you perform!"
“Producers—kick her out! She shouldn't even be in this competition!”
The uproar was so intense that Stella couldn't possibly perform.
No amount of coaxing from the host, the judges, or the organizers made any difference.
The chaos was broadcast live, and viewership online soared past ten million.
For a full ten minutes, the audience remained in a frenzy.
It was as if Stella's mere existence had ignited a riot.
Anyone tuning in who didn't know the backstory might have thought she'd committed sterrible crime.
The host, utterly out of his depth,
kept mopping at the sweat on his brow, fumbling for words to calm the crowd. But every attempt was drowned
out by shouts and jeers, and he ended up looking like a fool.
Stella glanced at her watch and signaled the host to hand her the microphone.
He hesitated, then reluctantly handed it over.
Seeing Stella take the mic, the crowd only grew more agitated.
Standing center stage, looking out at the chaos, Stella spoke in a calm, clear voice.
"How many of you wantto leave?"
A chorus erupted: “We all want you gone!”
She didn't even flinch. Instead, she smiled. “Alright then. But before | go, I'd like those who wantoff this
stage to cup and explain why."
The uproar froze as if someone had hit pause.
Down in the front row, Joshua watched, admiration flickering in his eyes.
No wonder Rachel could never outmaneuver her.
The crowd's fury, so wild a moment before, was suddenly doused. It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of
cold water over them.
Stella continued, "I understand your frustration. But surely | can't be expected to do whatever I'm told, simply
because someone tellsto, can I? If you wantto step down, givea good reason."
She swept her gaze across the crowd. "Who wants to go first?"
Not a soul moved.
For a moment, the auditorium was utterly silent.
Among the journalists and spectators, too many were paid shills—people planted to stir up trouble. Like rats
lurking in the dark, none dared step into the light.
Then, a voice piped up from somewhere in the crowd.
"If we go up there and you remember our faces, what if you cafter us later? We're just ordinary people-we
don't have money or connections like Ms. Cameron."
Others seized on this, echoing the sentiment.
“Yeah, what if you take revenge on us?"
But even as they spoke, none of them stood up. Not even the cameras could pick them out; only the general
area where the voice cfrom could be shown on screen.
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