The next day, Elena arrived on set with Lyra.
As soon as she stepped onto the shooting floor, she could feel it—the glances, the whispers.
Everyone was talking about the video.
The one where coffee had spilled on Rachel.
Murmurs followed her everywhere.
Isn't she the one from yesterday's video?"
"Yeah… the coffee incident with Rachel."
"I saw it everywhere last night."
"Poor Rachel, she must've been so embarrassed."
"But still… was it really an accident?"
Elena heard everything.
She chose not to react.
Before things could escalate, the director walked up to her, his tone calm and professional.
"I heard about what happened yesterday," he said gently. "Don't take stress over it. Everything will settle down soon."
Elena nodded politely.
After offering a comforting smile, the director walked away.
The shoot began.
Elena performed her scenes flawlessly, as if nothing had happened.
Once her take was done, she moved aside to wait for the next scene.
That was when Rachel approached.
Rachel sat down beside her, her movements elegant yet careful.
"Elena, dear… are you okay?" she asked softly. "I saw people talking. Saying all sorts of things."
She let out a long sigh, her voice heavy with emotion.
"Even I didn't expect my fans to blow such a small incident out of proportion."
Elena looked at her for a second—then smiled calmly.
Lyra stood beside Elena, sipping her green tea, silently observing. Finally, she spoke, unable to hold back.
"Then why didn't you clarify it on Waibo?"
"You could've simply said nothing like that happened. Your fans would listen to you."
Rachel turned toward Lyra, her eyes slightly moist. She looked genuinely troubled.
"I could say that," she replied quietly.
"But then… wouldn't I be doing wrong by my fans? They're worried about me. I am who I am today because of them."
The people sitting nearby overheard everything.
Some nodded in admiration.The surrounding people were visibly moved.
"She really values her fans."
"No wonder she's so popular."
"She doesn't want to hurt their feelings."
Even those who knew the truth from yesterday began to doubt themselves.
"Maybe Rachel really isn't at fault."
"Yeah… she's just too kind."
Lyra's fingers tightened around her cup. Anger flashed across her face.
But Elena subtly shook her head—don't react.
After a brief silence, Rachel stood up.
"I hope things don't affect you too much," she said gently before leaving.
The moment she walked away—
Lyra snapped.
"Did you hear all that?" she said angrily.
"That green-tea woman came here on purpose. She poured salt on your wounds and walked away like a saint."
Elena looked at Lyra and smiled calmly.
"You're overthinking," she said lightly.
"Rachel is helping us."
Lyra stared at her. "Helping? From where does this look like help?"
Elena leaned in slightly, her voice low.
"Just watch carefully," she said.
"When this video goes completely viral…
and Rachel doesn't make a single statement for three days after that—"
She paused.
"Leave the rest to me."
Lyra studied Elena's composed expression.
Slowly, her anger faded.
Elena must already have a plan, she thought.
That's why she's so calm.
Lyra finally nodded.
"Alright," she said.
"For the next three days, I'll keep track of whether Rachel releases a statement or not."
Elena's smile remained soft—
but her eyes were sharp.
....
Far away, in the capital…
In a quiet, overly expensive office, a man sat comfortably, checking reports as if the fate of the world depended on font size and bullet points.
This man was Roben.
His posture was straight, his expression unreadable—
the kind of face that made people nervous even when he was just reading.
Beside him stood his assistant, Victor, holding a tablet and talking nonstop.
"Sir, tomorrow's schedule is confirmed. Security arrangements are in place. The meeting—"
Roben raised a finger.
Victor immediately shut up.
At that exact moment, Roben's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
J.
Roben sighed—very softly, but very dangerously.
"Go outside," he said.
Victor didn't ask why.
He just nodded and practically escaped the room.
Roben answered the call.
"Major," Joker's cheerful voice came through.
"Did you see the video?"
Roben leaned back in his chair.
"What video?" he asked calmly.
"The celebrity one."
Roben closed his eyes for half a second.
"So," he said slowly,
"you have a lot of free time these days."
Joker suddenly felt a chill.
"From today onward," Roben continued,
"you'll do two extra hours of training every day."
Silence.
"N–No, sir!" Joker blurted out.
"I didn't mean it like that! I was talking about Elena—the celebrity you told me to investigate."
Roben paused.
Exactly one second.
"…And?" he asked.
Joker swallowed.
"There's a video of her going viral. She spilled coffee on her co-actress. People online are roasting her like free barbecue."
Roben nodded slightly.
"Good," he said.
"Make it four extra hours of training."
"Sir, please—!" Joker panicked.
"I only told you because we didn't find anything interesting in her background. I thought this video might help. Maybe it's a clue?"
He hurriedly added,
"I've already sent the video to your phone."
Roben didn't reply.
"Train," he said.
"Yes, sir," Joker answered instantly, before his training hours increased again.
The call ended.
Joker stared at his phone, eyes watery.
I just wanted to help…
HOW did two extra hours turn into four?!
A silent tear escaped.
"God," he muttered,
"what kind of personal revenge are you taking from me?"
Roben opened the video.
He watched it quietly.
Once.
Anyone else would've thought—
Wow, what a mess.
But Roben noticed things others wouldn't.
The cuts were too clean.
The angle was too convenient.
The timing—too perfect.
The video had been edited.
Not heavily—but just enough.
Enough to make it look like Elena had deliberately spilled the coffee.
Roben's expression didn't change.
He locked the phone, placed it beside him, and returned to his work as if nothing had happened.
For three relentless days, the video refused to fade.
Instead, it evolved.
New edits appeared.
Slow-motion versions.
Zoom-ins.
Dramatic captions screaming "EXPOSED."
"Elena did it on purpose."
"She was jealous—look at her eyes."
"She hasn't denied it once."
"Silence is confession."
Every comment sharpened the blade.
And Elena?
She remained perfectly still.
No statement.
No explanation.
No emotional post.
Her silence slowly turned into a verdict in the public's mind.
She must be guilty, they decided.
Otherwise, she would have defended herself.
Emma paced around the room on the first day.
"We should respond," she insisted.
Elena stopped her without even looking up.
"Not yet."
On the second day, Emma clenched her phone in frustration.
"They're tearing you apart online."
Elena's reply was calm.
"Let them finish."
By the third day, the narrative was sealed.
And only then did Elena move.
That evening, she looked at Lyra.
"Get me Rachel's number."
Lyra blinked.
"…Now?"
She searched Elena's face for uncertainty.
There was none.
Only quiet confidence.
"Okay," Lyra said slowly.
"Three days are over. You wouldn't ask unless you were ready."
She left—and returned soon after, practically glowing with anticipation.
"Got it," she said.
"Rachel's personal number."
Elena took the phone, her expression unreadable.
She dialed.
The call connected.
"Hello?" Rachel's voice answered.
"Hi, Rachel," Elena said smoothly.
"It's Elena. I wanted to talk. If you're free, there's a café near my hotel. We can meet."
On the other end, Rachel leaned back, lips curving.
So the silence finally broke, she thought.
She must be desperate now.
She imagined tears.
Apologies.
Requests.
Before she could respond—
Ping.
A message arrived.
An audio file.
Elena's voice followed immediately.
"Before you say no," Elena said evenly,
"listen to what I just sent you."
A brief pause.
"After that, meet me at the café.
Eight p.m."
Then, lightly—
"One piece of advice," she added.
"Don't play the audio where people can hear it."
Click.
The line went dead.
Lyra stared at Elena.
"Do you honestly think she'll come?"
Elena met her gaze.
"Trust your boss," she said quietly.
Elena shook her head slowly and said, half-smiling,
"Your boss is so kind that no one can even say no to her."
Lyra glanced at her, calm and amused.
"Kind?" Lyra continued.
"That part you've already proved.
But you forgot to mention with whom you're kind."
Elena met her gaze.
Her smile didn't change—
but something colder surfaced underneath.
"Rachel," Elena said casually.
"And who else? Only a special few are lucky enough to experience my kindness."
She paused, then added lightly,
"And Rachel just happens to be one of them."
Lyra stared at her.
A chill ran down her spine.
She exhaled slowly.
"Wow… very few people have survived hearing about this kind nature of yours."
Then she folded her hands for exactly two seconds.
"Moment of silence for Rachel," Lyra muttered.
Lyra swallowed, then nodded.
Elsewhere—
Rachel stared at her phone, irritation flashing across her face.
"What kind of confidence is this?" she scoffed.
"She thinks I'll come just because she told me to?"
Still, curiosity crept in.
She checked her surroundings.
Empty room.
Closed door.
She tapped the audio.
The first few seconds—
Her smirk faltered.
Halfway through—
Her grip tightened around the phone.
By the end—
Her face had lost all color.
Rachel sank onto the couch, breath uneven.
Now it made sense.