Chapter 801

No.1

The floor was a warzone of shattered makeup and ruined accessories. The supermodels frantically collected the debris, their movements frantic and stressed. Genevieve, who had gleefully destroyed everything moments before, was now boiling with hateful anger. If the organizers discovered she was responsible for this costly damage, she would be forced to pay for it all! She hurriedly scooped up the broken items and dumped them into a trash bin. She turned to her panicked assistant. “Go to the warehouse! Get a brand new set of everything! Money is no object!”

“Yes, Miss Laurent!” The assistant scurried away.

The footsteps outside grew louder, more distinct. Seraphina noticed Isabella hadn’t moved a muscle. “Fix your hair!” she ordered, her voice tight with anger. If the fans saw Isabella looking like a victim, the narrative would be set.

Isabella merely shrugged, her expression one of feigned helplessness. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a soft, pathetic tremor. “I’m so terrified after everyone attacked my things. My whole body has gone numb. I can’t move.”

She can’t move! She’s blatantly refusing to cooperate! The audacity! Seraphina thought, her anger reaching a boiling point. She wanted to strangle Isabella right then and there. But the live stream was imminent. Forcing down her rage, Seraphina strode over to Isabella. With rough, impatient hands, she began smoothing down Isabella’s disheveled hair. Once it was perfectly styled again, Seraphina glared at Isabella’s reflection in the new mirror. “You’ve gotten away with it this time, you savage,” she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “Just you wait. I will have my revenge.”

“Oh, I look forward to it. Do keep me company until the very end,” Isabella replied. A sinister, arrogant smile played on her lips. She laughed, a sound full of mocking triumph. The surrounding models watched in sullen, hate-filled silence, each wishing for her immediate demise.

The backstage door swung open. A group of men in impeccably tailored suits entered. Seraphina instantly stepped away from Isabella, adopting a neutral expression. The other supermodels scurried back to their own dressing tables, pretending to be engrossed in their preparations. The scene was now one of calm, professional order.

Inside her private changing room, Victoria Kensington was fuming. She felt like screaming. What a useless bunch of idiots! So many of them, and they couldn't even handle one Isabella! How utterly infuriating!

But then, a cold, calculating smirk replaced her anger. She remembered her real plan for the day. Perhaps this squabble being settled was for the best. It would make her own scheme run more smoothly. Today, she would ensure Isabella Montgomery was completely destroyed. She would make sure that woman rotted away in prison for good.

Nathaniel Blackwood entered with the other executives. The models were already positioned at their stations. Some were having their makeup retouched while others perfected their poses. His eyes scanned the room until they settled on Isabella Montgomery. She lounged indolently in her chair as a makeup artist worked on her complexion. Even in stillness, Isabella radiated a regal and untouchable aura. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Nathaniel's lips, a private display of affection that went unnoticed by everyone.

The media team surged forward with their equipment, moving efficiently into the space. They began their coverage from the lowest-ranked model, introducing Victoria Kensington before progressing upward to Genevieve Laurent. Just as a cameraman moved in for Isabella's close-up, Nathaniel fixed him with a glacial stare. A collective shiver ran through the reporting crew. They hastily wrapped their segment. "That concludes our live preview," the lead announcer stated abruptly. "Stay tuned for the grand opening of the Mercedes Auto Show momentarily." The entire media contingent evacuated the area with remarkable speed.

Backstage now held only the models, their assistants, Nathaniel, the Mercedes executives, and the event coordinators. With the press gone, Genevieve could no longer contain herself. She turned to a Mercedes executive with a pointed expression. "Mr. Worthington," she began, her voice dripping with condescension, "isn't it completely inappropriate to have those two local models at this caliber of event?"

"Absolutely!" another supermodel chimed in immediately. "And making that rookie the main model? It's a joke!"

"Isabella is utterly unqualified for that position! It should belong to Seraphina!" declared a third model.

The supermodels took turns voicing their objections, each argument squarely targeting Isabella. Mr. Worthington shifted uncomfortably and looked toward Nathaniel. "Mr. Blackwood," he said, his tone strained, "you see the situation. I warned you this decision would cause an uproar." The statement sent a ripple of shock through those who heard it. Nathaniel Blackwood was a titan in Aldovia, controlling vast swathes of the nation's real estate, retail, and hospitality sectors. The exhibition hall itself was Blackwood property.

The formidable Nathaniel Blackwood had personally chosen an unknown newcomer as the main model?

Seraphina Delacroix, who had maintained an image of flawless elegance since Nathaniel's arrival, felt her composure crack. This was unbelievable. Hadn't Nathaniel always been ruthlessly impartial? Wasn't his reputation built on never granting special favors? Selecting Isabella was his direct order?

Dressed head-to-toe in sleek black leather, Seraphina moved toward Nathaniel with a hypnotic sway. "Mr. Blackwood," she purred, her voice a blend of honey and steel, "please, enlighten me. What possible justification is there for choosing her over me? Is she more beautiful? Has she won more prestigious awards? Are her legs longer or more sculpted than mine? Or perhaps she's simply taller?"

No.2

By any objective measure, Isabella was no match for Seraphina. Seraphina was globally crowned the World's Sexiest Model. To men, she was the ultimate fantasy. Her beauty was considered peerless.

Every eye was locked on Nathaniel, waiting for his explanation with bated breath. He regarded Seraphina with an arctic coldness. "My selection," he stated, his voice resonating with absolute, unassailable authority, "is none of your concern." The finality in his tone was a physical force. No one dared to meet his gaze.

Seraphina Delacroix stood frozen in utter disbelief.

She never anticipated such a response.

As an internationally celebrated supermodel, she deserved respect. Yet Nathaniel Blackwood dismissed her outright in favor of that novice, Isabella Montgomery!

How could she ever show her face again after this humiliation?

Seraphina lifted her chin defiantly. "Mr. Blackwood, since you refuse to provide a logical explanation, I quit!"

Her resignation meant the Auto Show would be short one model. Finding a replacement on such short notice seemed impossible.

Archibald Worthington rushed to mediate. "Mr. Blackwood, Miss Delacroix, surely we can resolve this through calm discussion."

Isabella watched from her dressing table, frowning at the escalating conflict. She wanted to intervene, but Nathaniel was already on his phone.

"You have twenty minutes to find a replacement for Seraphina Delacroix," he commanded.

The room fell silent in shock. Seraphina was the industry's top supermodel, adored by millions of male fans. Her face paled instantly.

How could she have forgotten she was dealing with Nathaniel Blackwood of the powerful Blackwood Corporation? No one challenged him and emerged victorious.

She had just threatened Nathaniel Blackwood...

Seraphina's agent hurried forward with anxious apologies. "Mr. Blackwood, please forgive Seraphina's impulsive words. She speaks without thinking but means no harm. She was merely joking earlier. A generous man like you wouldn't hold this against her, would you?" He discreetly nudged Seraphina's arm.

Frustration boiled within Seraphina. She wanted to storm out immediately.

But the modeling commission was incredibly lucrative, and she had already received the advance payment. Leaving would mean returning that substantial sum.

Moreover, this was a prestigious luxury brand Auto Show attended by numerous celebrities. How could she miss such an event? Leaving now would make her the laughingstock of the century!

No.3

Clenching her fists, she lowered her head. "I apologize, Mr. Blackwood. I was wrong."

She thought, 'I'll endure this humiliation for now. I'll excel at the Auto Show, and my fans will support me while condemning Isabella for stealing my spotlight!'

Nathaniel's response was icy. "I detect no sincerity in your apology."

Sincerity? She had already humbled herself and admitted fault. Now he demanded more?

Seraphina nearly exploded with rage. She had never been so thoroughly humiliated in her entire career!

Seeing her struggle to contain her anger, her agent interjected desperately. "Mr. Blackwood, we deeply regret our mistake. As a gesture of our sincerity, we'll accept only ninety percent of the modeling fee and guarantee our performance will exceed your expectations!"

"Ensure there are no further incidents," Nathaniel stated imposingly, ending the discussion.

He turned and walked steadily toward Isabella.

Isabella watched his approach with disbelief. 'This man! What is he planning? He's made me a target for everyone's resentment, and now he's coming straight toward me. What does he want?'

Isabella’s assistants had finished dressing her in the outfit for the Auto Show.

She sat motionless in her chair, like a statue carved from ice.

Nathaniel strode toward her without hesitation.

He leaned in close, his presence overwhelming.

His fingers brushed against the zipper of her form-fitting leather top.

With one sharp tug, he pulled it all the way up to her throat.

The gesture was possessive, almost territorial.

Her slender neck disappeared beneath the black leather.

Nathaniel’s gaze was intense, his voice low and commanding.

No.4

“The Mercedes Auto Show is an elite event,” he stated coldly.

“There’s no need to reveal so much skin.”

A collective gasp swept through the room.

No one could believe what they had just witnessed.

Nathaniel Blackwood—the untouchable, ruthless billionaire—had just publicly claimed Isabella Montgomery.

His words dripped with jealousy and ownership.

This wasn’t just professional interest.

This was personal.

The rumors were true.

He was involved with her.

Isabella shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Every other model was wearing revealing outfits—deep V-necks, tube tops, barely-there fabrics.

And here she was, zipped up like a nun.

Was he trying to humiliate her?

Or mark his territory in front of everyone?

Archibald Worthington sensed the rising tension.

If this continued, the other models would revolt.

He quickly stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation.

No.5

“Mr. Blackwood,” he said nervously, “the show begins in twenty minutes.

The front stage is ready.

Everyone is waiting for you.”

He straightened up, his expression turning glacial.

His voice cut through the room like a blade.

“Isabella is under my protection,” he announced.

“Anyone who targets her will answer to me.”

The threat hung heavy in the air.

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

His entourage scrambled after him, relief and fear on their faces.

Isabella stared after him, stunned.

Why did he keep inserting himself into her life?

Why this constant, infuriating attention?

“He’s gone,” sneered Genevieve Laurent.

“Stop staring.

You think Nathaniel Blackwood actually cares about you?

He’s toying with you.

You’re just a passing amusement.”

No.6

Isabella snapped out of her daze.

She shot Genevieve a withering look.

“At least he’s amused,” she retorted.

“You can’t even get his attention.”

With that, she swept out of the room.

She had no patience for petty jealousy.

The other models seethed with envy.

Seraphina Delacroix in particular looked ready to claw Isabella’s eyes out.

But no one dared act.

Not after Nathaniel’s warning.

Not when she had his backing.

The backstage atmosphere turned icy.

Victoria Kensington felt her jealousy burning like acid.

She glared daggers at Isabella’s retreating figure.

Her agent, Isadora Vasquez, gave her a sympathetic look before heading out.

She returned moments later with twelve bottles of chilled juice.

“Ladies, let’s not fight,” she said soothingly.

“We’re all here to work.

No.7

It’s a hot day—have something to drink and cool down.

The show starts soon.”

She began distributing the drinks.

The models, still furious but momentarily distracted, accepted them.

Compared to Isabella, Victoria didn’t seem so bad anymore.

After handing out the juices, Isadora approached Isabella with a bottle of orange juice in hand.

She smiled warmly.

“Here,” she said.

“You look like you could use this.”

“Isabella, you should have some refreshment too,” Gabriella offered, extending a chilled juice bottle.

“The old proverb warns about Greeks bearing gifts,” Isabella replied coolly, not even glancing at the offering. “Nothing from you comes without strings attached.”

Gabriella’s smile tightened with visible discomfort. “Suit yourself. I’ll just leave it here for later, then.” She set the bottle on the vanity and made a swift exit.

Isabella narrowed her eyes in suspicion. ‘Since when does Gabriella show kindness? Victoria must be plotting something again. If she wants to play games, I’ll play along.’ With a calculated flick of her wrist, Isabella snatched the bottle and tossed it directly into the nearby waste bin.

Victoria maintained a neutral expression, but triumph glittered in her eyes. ‘Just you wait, Isabella. Your downfall is guaranteed.’