The reporter was stumped. The other reporters couldn't help but laugh.
What a brainless question.
But isn't that how entertainment news works?
A little breeze kicks up waves, and those waves build on each other.
At some point, posts slandering Melody Monroe began to appear online, accusing her of getting plastic surgery.
But Melody Monroe wasn't that famous yet, so it didn't attract much attention.
"I'm incredibly grateful to the angels in white who performed my surgery and took care of me. My head injury required over twenty stitches, but thankfully, my face wasn't hurt." Melody shut down that line of questioning completely.
The reporters nearby were too embarrassed to ask any more gossip-mongering questions.
"Melody, what are your work plans now?"
"I'm between projects right now, so of course, I'm hoping to get busy again soon."
Rose Shaw watched Melody expertly handle the reporters, completely unworried. She glanced at her watch and said to the assistant beside her, "That's enough."
The assistant immediately went to coordinate with the media. The reporters blocking the way finally cleared a path.
Escorted by two security guards, Melody Monroe walked forward.
"Melody! Melody!" A sudden shout came from a distance.
Melody Monroe saw a group of fans standing behind a barricade. They were holding homemade signs that read: "Our Hearts Adore, Our Feelings Can't Be Ignored."
"Our Hearts Adore, Our Feelings Can't Be Ignored! Melody! Melody! We love you!" The fans chanted their slogan spontaneously.
Melody Monroe immediately waved to her fans. "Thank you, everyone! Thank you."
"Melody, you're so beautiful!"
"Melody! You're my goddess forever!"
"Melody, you got this!"
The impromptu press conference and fan meet-and-greet lasted for over half an hour before Melody Monroe finally left under Rose Shaw's arrangement.
Sitting in the car and looking out the window at the unfamiliar scenery, Melody Monroe's heart was still racing. Her palms were sweaty, and she was incredibly nervous.
Rose Shaw hadn't said a word. 'Looks like I did okay today. A person's potential really is limitless!'
This truly was a completely different kind of life—the life she had longed for.
Suddenly, Rose Shaw's phone rang.
"Mm, I understand. Thank you, President Fisher. Yes, okay. Goodbye." Rose Shaw hung up and looked at Melody Monroe. "I've secured a spot for you at the charity gala. It's tomorrow at five in the evening. I'll have someone come pick you up."
"Okay, thank you, Rose," Melody Monroe said gratefully.
"Stop the car after the intersection ahead, then take Melody home," Rose Shaw said to the driver.
The car stopped past the intersection. Rose Shaw got out, but instead of immediately hailing a passing taxi, she stood by the roadside, took out a cigarette, and lit it.
Melody Monroe watched Rose Shaw through the window, a dull ache in her heart.
Rose Shaw was a tragic character. 'I wonder if I can change her fate.'
...
A Maybach pulled into a private estate in Rockwellburg.
The butler, William, a man in his fifties dressed in a designer suit, stood respectfully at the entrance to welcome the distinguished guest to Rockwell Manor.
Suddenly, a motorcycle roared onto the estate, pulling up alongside the Maybach. The rider took off their helmet and tapped on the rear passenger window.
The window lowered, revealing the profile of a man's face—handsome and profound.
Jasper Rockwell swept his bangs from his forehead and whistled. "Evan Fairchild, it really is you!"
"Third Young Master, the Master and Madam have also arrived," the butler reminded him softly.