“Deviana, was that really you in the video just now?!”

A journalist’s voice cut through the chaos of the ballroom, followed by camera lenses zeroing in on her face.

Deviana stood frozen on stage, the hand holding the microphone trembling violently. Her breath came short, her chest tight. Every gaze pierced her like a thousand knives.

“I… it’s not true!” her voice cracked, barely audible. “That video is manipulated! Everything you saw—”

“But the witness claimed she worked directly with you! She said you once ordered her to forge documents!” another reporter shot back.

The ballroom erupted into a tribunal. Lila, standing beside Deviana, tried to intervene. “Enough! This is...