Chapter 493

Hannah drew in a long, dramatic breath, her expression dripping with mock sorrow as she gazed at Erica. "Vincent never gave a damn about you! Why the hell are you still hanging off him like a leech? Doesn't it feel pathetic?"

The crowd of reporters erupted, microphones flashing toward Erica.

"This is front-page material! A woman, madly in love, went under the knife to look like her rival, and the CEO still turned her away. Absolutely deranged! Her brain's gotta be scrambled beyond repair!"

"I can't help but wonder what her real face looked like before.What kind of person willingly carves themselves into someone else's image? Doesn't it creep her out every time she looks in the mirror?"

"Haven't you heard? She only did it to steal Mr. Jones!Thought she could claw her way up by changing her face,but it backfired-now she's sneaking into his bed with a stolen room key!"

The flood of malicious gossip slammed into Erica, each word like another stone thrown. Camera flashes burst in her eyes,capturing her disgrace in cruel, frozen fragments.

Erica's hands balled into fists, nails biting into her skin until they drew blood. She jerked her head up, fury blazing in her gaze as it landed on Hannah's too-sweet smile. All the fragments fused into a clear picture in her head. The room key, the swarm of reporters, the perfect timing-it all snapped into place. This wasn't bad luck-it was Hannah's damn scheme. Hannah had dropped the key deliberately, lured her into the snare, and

dropped the key deliberately, lured her into the snare, and planted the waiting reporters-every detail designed to destroy her.

"It's you!" Erica sprang upright, her whole bodytrembling as she jabbed a finger at Hannah. Her voice sliced through the clamor, shrill with rage. "You set me up-you wanted me destroyed, you conniving bitch!"

Vincent's gaze stayed flat and unreadable, his silence heavy as stone.

Hannah met Erica's fury with a calm tilt of her chin, her eyes sharp. Her voice rang out, steady and deliberate. "How could you say that? Did I force you to alter your face into mine with countless plastic surgeries? Did I make you go crawling after my boyfriend? Did I push you to check into a hotel room with him?"

Her words cut through the air lie glass. She let the silence hang just long enough and then swept her gaze across the ring of reporters, every eye glued to her. When she spoke again,her voice was low, deliberate, and edged with frost."Watch your tongue. Without evidence, what you're spouting is slander -and the fallout won't land on me."

The chill in Hannah's retort lit the press like a spark to tinder.

Reporters pounced on Erica at once, their voices colliding in a chaotic storm.

"Do you have proof that Ms. Scott set you up?"

"Did you really undergo plastic surgeries to look like her just to get close to Mr. Jones? Weren't your intentions manipulative from the start?"

Microphones pressed in from every angle, cameras flashing mercilessly as the questions grew sharper, more merciless with each passing second,leaving Erica nowhere to breathe.

Erica stumbled backward, shoving at shoulders and arms in a

Erica stumbled backward, shoving at shoulders and arms in a frantic attempt to carve out an escape.

The reporters only pressed in tighter, their cameras flashing,their questions cutting off every direction she turned.

A bold reporter, unwilling to relent, even lunged toward Vincent with his microphone.

Vincent's cold eyes swept over them like a blade, a silent warning that froze that bold reporter mid-stride and sent him instinctively retreating.

Without wasting another second, Vincent clamped his hand around Hannah's wrist and pulled her forward. His stride was sharp, deliberate, slicing through the mob as he dragged her toward the elevator.

Though Hannah staggered under his force, her expression stayed unnervingly composed, her lips curving with the faintest hint of control.

Right before they stepped into the waiting elevator, she turned her head.Through the chaos, her gaze pinned Erica, who was still trapped in the reporters' ring. The shadow of a smile flickered at the edge of her mouth. Erica had brought this downfall on herself.

With the gossip surging like wildfire, the scandal over Erica's plastic surgery would soon detonate, and once someone traced it back to the clinic where she had gotten her procedure, there would be no denying her true identity.

That certainty hardened Hannah's gaze, leaving her eyes like shards of ice.

The elevator continued its descent, the metallic hum echoing in the tense silence.

Vincent's hand clamped firmly around Hannah's wrist, his grip unrelenting.

Hannah could hear the ragged cadence of his breathing-harsh,restrained, but betraying the storm beneath his calm exterior.

The moment the doors opened on the ground floor, he kept his silence, hauling her through the sprawling, vacant lobby toward the waiting vehicle.

Hannah slipped into the passenger seat, yet he made no move to start the engine. His hand, still clamped around her wrist,refused to let go.

Only when the pressure became unbearable did Hannah twist free with a sharp tug.

A heavy silence settled over the car, stretching thin between them.

Breath ragged and chest heaving, Vincent finally turned toward her, his stare unflinching. "What's wrong? Why so quiet now?Funny how you never shut up when the reporters were there."