The girl’s laughter was cutting. “Then how about your nose implant? Hand it over.”
Joanna shook her head in panic. “Please, can’t we trade for something else? This one was expensive. If you take it out, I won’t be able to afford another…”
…
The new video wasn’t long, but compared to the first—full of expert opinions—hearing Joanna herself admit to cosmetic surgery was even more explosive.
The studio was a mess.
Joanna was so furious she couldn’t think straight.
“I’m going to kill that bitch! I swear, I’ll kill her!”
Only Celestine could have held onto so much incriminating footage about her.
That idiot, trying to “clear her name” years ago, had saved all kinds of so-called evidence—evidence that could destroy her now.
Joanna had always known that self-righteous little witch would be the death of her someday.
She forced herself to calm down.
Even Chester was useless now.
If he’d actually cared, he would’ve had the video taken down the moment it went up—not wasted time hunting down the so-called original poster to issue a statement.
So Celestine wanted to play this game? Fine. She’d just have to play hardball too.
Murderous intent flashed in Joanna’s eyes. She let her phone ring and ring, refusing to answer.
Chester, unable to reach her, was seething.
Joanna had actually gotten plastic surgery. And those people in the video really were her.
“Mr. Fordham, someone’s been pushing those videos behind the scenes, and the original poster’s account info is protected,” reported his assistant, hurrying in with the latest update.
Chester glanced at the phone, which had once again rung out with no answer.
“We’ll let it cool off,” he said coldly.
Joanna had at least been right about one thing: Most people were just following the crowd. They didn’t actually hate her.
Given time, people would forget. All it would take was one more hit project—one more irresistible character—and the masses would flock back to her.
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