NovelEnglishForeman's voice was gentle. "Letgive you a ride."
Stella shook her head. “That's all right, my friend's car is parked nearby. He's already on his way to pickup."
Foreman didn't press her.
Just as Stella turned to leave, Foreman called her back.
"Star."
She glanced over. "Yes, Foreman? Is there something else?"
His gaze dropped to her arm. "How's that scrape on your arm doing?"
Stella pushed up her sleeve so he could take a look. "It's fine now."
Despite her reassurance, the fresh scar on her skin made Foreman's eyes darken.
"I have sreally effective scar cream at home," he said. "I'll have my assistant send it over to you tomorrow."
"Thank you, but that's all right," Stella replied with a polite smile. "Keen already gavesointment that
works wonders. I'm happy with it for now."
"All right, but if you ever need anything, just letknow."
After saying goodbye, Stella headed for the exit.
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She was in such a hurry that, just a few steps out, she accidentally bumped into a
server.
The young man instinctively reached out to steady her.
"Thank you," Stella said.
He was in his early twenties, and as soon as he caught sight of Stella, he stopped short, momentarily stunned.
What a beautiful woman!
He stammered, "N-no problem..."
Stella flashed him a quick smile, then hurried on her way.
The server stood rooted to the spot, his ears burning red as he watched her disappear. He'd worked here for
quite a while, but had rarely seen anyone as stunning as her.
Just then, he felt a cold, prickling stare on him.
He turned, uneasy, and found himself face-to-face with a young, well-dressed man. The man's expression was
icy, his gaze sharp and chilling.
A shudder ran through the server. He quickly looked away, not daring to linger, and scurried off.
Only when Stella's figure vanished from view did Foreman finally, reluctantly, look away.
He picked up his phone and dialed his assistant.
"Did you make sure every trace of what happened to Karl last twas erased?"
Call think Haynes was
"Don't worry, Mr. Richards," cWe wiped everything wiped
clean. They'll all think
responsible. No one
you."
Foreman's voice was frosty. "There's a waiter at this café who's crossed me. Send someone to make sure he
never uses his hands again."
"Yes, sir. I'll take care of it right away."
"And..." Foreman's expression was impassive. "Send over more of that ointment | asked for last time."
The assistant hesitated. "You mean the one that heals wounds quickly but leaves bad scarring?"
"That's the one."
"Understood. I'll have it delivered to you immediately, Mr. Richards."
After hanging up, Foreman paused, then dialed Keen.
"Keen, did you run out of that ointment? I'll have them send more over. Your mother's hand was injured again..."
Just as Stella had expected, after Abby issued her clarification online, the backlash only intensified.
Even the official statement did nothing to sway public opinion.
Most people believed the authorities were just covering for Stella, helping her fabricate the truth.
Meanwhile, rumors about Stella acting like a diva at the competition-looking down on other contestants—were
being spread everywhere.
The so-called "evidence" posted online was nothing more than snapshots of Stella having normal conversations
with other participants.
But with sdeliberate twisting, those photos were painted as proof that Stella was being aggressive.
Stella was too talented, and too beautiful.
There was no shortage of envy among the contestants.
Seeing how Felipa's smear campaign against Stella had turned her into an overnight sensation, severat obscure
contestants who had failed to reach the finals were quick to jump on the bandwagon.
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