Chapter 92: The Rival’s Filthy Secret

The heavy iron gates of the East Lake Villa slammed shut with a loud, ringing thud, cutting off the pathetic, sobbing wails of Preston Croft as the security guards dragged the ruined executive straight into the street gutter.

A dead, horrifying silence smothered the sprawling courtyard, as the evening wind rustled the decorative silk banners, leaving every single elite guest and snobby family member staring at the shattered, glowing crystal shards of the thirty-million-dollar masterpiece resting on the stone pathway.

Standing entirely alone near the head table was Isabella Vance, her flashy red dress suddenly looking like a cheap, tacky rag in the shadow of Rick’s overwhelming, god-tier presence.

Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, as her fake eyelashes fluttered in pure panic, because she had just watched her golden ticket to high-society wealth get fired, blacklisted, and buried under a mountain of debt in a matter of three minutes.

Instead of dropping to her knees to beg for mercy or quietly slipping out the back exit to save her own skin, Isabella’s fragile ego shattered, sending her into a blind, hysterical spiral of pure delusion.

"It is a trick!" Isabella shrieked, her grating voice piercing the quiet courtyard like a rusty knife, as she pointed a shaking, manicured finger directly at Rick’s broad chest. "Grandfather! Do not listen to a single word this filthy street rat says! He is a fraud!"

Patriarch Arthur Vance glared at his granddaughter from his mahogany chair, his wrinkled face twisted in deep displeasure, since Rick had just proven his status as the supreme boss of a massive hotel conglomerate.

"Silence yourself, Isabella," Arthur commanded sternly, his raspy voice carrying a heavy, oppressive weight. "You have embarrassed this family enough tonight by bringing that arrogant fool into my home."

"No! I will not be silenced!" Isabella wept hysterically, stomping her high heels against the stone floor, as she turned her desperate, bloodshot eyes toward the surrounding crowd of aunts and uncles. "Think about it! How could a peasant who works in a hotel kitchen suddenly own the entire Imperial Jade Group?! It makes zero logical sense!"

Uncle Henry took a cautious step backward, refusing to make eye contact with her, since his frog-in-a-well mentality had already switched to survival mode, leaving him terrified of offending Rick.

"He must have hired an actor to pretend to be CEO Cheng Shuang!" Isabella reasoned wildly, spinning her web of frantic lies, as spittle flew from her lips. "Or he hacked the phone lines! He manipulated this entire situation just to ruin Preston’s career and steal my inheritance! He brainwashed Elena to get access to our family wealth!"

Elena stood beside Rick, her ice-blue eyes narrowing into a freezing glare, as she stepped forward to confront her delusional cousin.

"You are losing your mind, Isabella," Elena stated flatly, keeping her posture flawless and elegant. "Preston dug his own grave the second he smashed a priceless national treasure just to stroke his own fragile ego. You should gather whatever dignity you have left and walk out of this courtyard."

"Shut up, you stuck-up bitch!" Isabella roared, abandoning all high-society etiquette, as she glared at Elena with pure, venomous jealousy. "You brought this thug here to destroy my happiness! Preston worked his fingers to the bone to become a Regional Vice President, and this kitchen rat used dirty underworld tricks to tear him down!"

Rick did not get angry, nor did he yell, as a dark, highly villainous smirk stretched across his sharp jawline, finding the barking of a crippled dog incredibly entertaining.

"Preston worked his fingers to the bone?" Rick mocked lazily, his deep voice effortlessly cutting through her hysterical screaming. "That is a very interesting way to describe his career path."

Isabella glared at him, her chest heaving, "He earned his corporate title through pure talent! He navigated the highest echelons of extreme wealth, while you chop vegetables for a living!"

Rick let out a low, carrying sigh, as he looked at the weeping, pathetic girl with absolute disgust, deciding that showing mercy to a venomous snake was a waste of breath.

"I fired your meal ticket because he smashed my property, and I gave you a chance to walk away quietly," Rick stated coldly, dropping his playful tone, as his deadpan eyes locked onto her pale face. "Since you insist on barking about corporate talent, let us see exactly how much talent Preston actually possesses."

Rick casually reached into his tailored suit jacket and pulled out his sleek titanium phone, tapping the screen with his rough thumb as a lethal, suffocating aura began to radiate from his towering frame.

"What are you doing?!" Isabella stammered, a sudden, chilling spike of dread piercing her irrational anger. "Are you calling your fake actors again?!"

"When Cheng Shuang realized I was attending this banquet, he sent me a comprehensive corporate dossier to ensure I knew the background of every single executive operating in this city," Rick explained methodically, swiping through a highly encrypted file on his screen. "He runs tight security, meaning every regional manager is subjected to exhaustive audits."

Rick raised his eyes, looking directly at Patriarch Arthur Vance, as the old man leaned forward in his chair, sensing a massive storm brewing.

"Preston Croft was a mediocre middle manager who failed his quarterly reviews three times in a row," Rick read aloud, his voice echoing clearly across the silent courtyard, drawing gasps from the elite guests. "Yet, miraculously, he bypassed six senior directors and secured three massive promotions in the span of six months to become a Regional Vice President."

"He is a genius! He proved his worth!" Isabella shrieked, though her voice shook, as her eyes darted nervously toward the exit.

"He didn’t prove anything," Rick sneered crudely, turning his phone to face her. "But you certainly did, Isabella."

The color drained from Isabella’s face, leaving her looking like a sick ghost, as her knees began to wobble under her flashy red dress.

"Let us review the audit logs," Rick mocked, as he read the crisp text provided by his CEO. "On the fourth of September, Preston was nominated for a senior management position by Director Hayes. That exact same evening, security cameras at the Grand Horizon Hotel recorded Isabella Vance entering Room 402 with Director Hayes, where she remained for exactly six hours."

A collective, horrified gasp rippled through the crowd of high-society guests, as the aunts and uncles stared at Isabella with wide, bulging eyes.

"Lies!" Isabella screamed, her voice cracking in pure terror. "That is fabricated garbage! You wrote that on your phone just to frame me!"

Rick ignored her pathetic denial, seamlessly scrolling to the next entry, dropping continuous, heavy hammers of truth right onto her fragile reality.

"On the twelfth of October, Preston secured his district manager title thanks to a board recommendation from Chairman Zhao," Rick continued ruthlessly. "And matching the exact timeline, Isabella Vance booked a private suite at the Neptune Resort. Room service receipts confirm she hosted a private party for Chairman Zhao and two of his associates, racking up a massive bill for premium champagne and silk restraints."

"Stop it! Stop talking!" Isabella wept hysterically, covering her ears with her shaking hands, as her grand, elite facade crumbled into a pile of filthy ash right in front of the entire city’s upper crust.

"And just last week, to secure his final promotion to Regional Vice President, CEO Cheng Shuang noted a highly suspicious push from his own executive board," Rick stated lazily, finishing the brutal execution. "The audit revealed Isabella Vance spent the entire weekend aboard a private yacht owned by the lead board member, leaving the harbor on Friday night and returning Sunday morning."

Rick lowered his phone, slipping it back into his pocket, as he looked down at the shivering, broken girl groveling on the stone pathway.

"Preston didn’t earn a single thing," Rick declared coldly, his voice ringing with undeniable, apex predator authority. "You sold your body like a cheap streetwalker, spreading your legs for rival executives just to buy your boyfriend a shiny corporate title, making you the dirtiest, lowest-tier trash in this entire courtyard."

The East Lake Villa erupted into a massive, chaotic chorus of disgusted whispers and furious scoffs, as the sheer magnitude of the scandal sent shockwaves through the elite crowd.

Aunt Sarah, who had praised Isabella just an hour ago, stepped forward with her face twisted in pure revulsion.

"You filthy, disgusting girl!" Aunt Sarah spat, pointing a judging finger at her niece to distance herself from the shame. "You whored yourself out to corporate pigs just to parade a useless man in front of our family! You are a literal disease!"

"I always knew she lacked foundational breeding," Uncle Henry scoffed loudly, rubbing his chin as he looked at Isabella like she was a pile of rotting garbage. "She brings absolute ruin to the Vance name. To think she dared to compare herself to Elena, who is a respected surgeon!"

Isabella collapsed onto her knees, ruining her dress against the hard stone pathway, as tears of pure, agonizing humiliation streamed down her face.

"Grandfather! Please!" Isabella sobbed loudly, crawling forward on the dirt toward the head table, raising her hands in a desperate, pathetic plea for salvation. "It was the only way! Preston promised we would be rich! I just wanted to bring glory to our family! I did it for us!"

Patriarch Arthur Vance stood up from his heavy mahogany chair, his wrinkled hands shaking with blinding, uncontrollable fury, as his sharp eyes burned with the wrath of a betrayed king.

He grabbed his walking cane, slamming the heavy wooden tip hard against the stone floor, creating a sharp crack that silenced the barking relatives.

"Glory?!" Arthur rasped, his heavy voice echoing like thunder across the courtyard, as he looked down at his groveling granddaughter with absolute, unforgiving disgust. "You dragged the prestigious Vance name through the filthiest gutters of the commercial district!"

"You act like a common prostitute, selling your flesh to secure a pathetic corporate title for a man who is now a penniless beggar," Arthur continued ruthlessly, severing all familial ties without a single ounce of mercy. "You have insulted my intelligence, you have insulted our ancestors, and you tried to slander a true dragon who brought a priceless national treasure to my birthday."

"No, Grandfather! I am a Vance! I belong here!" Isabella shrieked, clutching her head as her entire life vanished before her eyes.

"You are nothing," Arthur stated lethally, delivering the final, crushing judgment. "I am officially stripping your name from the family registry. You are no longer a Vance. You will not receive a single penny of inheritance, and you will never step foot inside this villa again."

Arthur turned his stern gaze toward the heavy wooden doors, raising his hand in a sharp, commanding gesture.

"Security!" Arthur ordered loudly. "Take this filthy trash out of my courtyard and throw her into the street with the rest of the garbage."

Four massive security guards rushed forward, showing zero hesitation, as they grabbed Isabella by her arms, lifting her kicking, screaming body entirely off the stone pathway.

"Elena! Help me! We are family!" Isabella wailed pathetically, reaching her hands out toward her older cousin as she was dragged backward toward the iron gates. "Rick! Please! Tell them to stop!"

Elena kept her spine perfectly straight, her ice-blue eyes devoid of any pity, as she watched the venomous snake reap exactly what she had sown.

Rick let out a dark, satisfied chuckle, casually adjusting the cuffs of his bespoke suit, finding the sweet sound of karma incredibly entertaining.

The heavy iron gates clanged shut once more, sealing Isabella out in the cold night, leaving her to wander the streets with absolutely no money, no powerful boyfriend, and no family to protect her.

Patriarch Arthur let out a heavy sigh, adjusting his silk tunic, before turning his gaze back to Rick, his stern expression melting into a look of profound, immense respect.

"I must apologize for the vile conduct of my former granddaughter, Mr. Smith," Arthur said, bowing his head slightly, a gesture that shocked the surrounding guests to their very cores. "You did this family a great service by exposing the rot within our ranks."

"Just keep a tighter leash on the dogs who eat from your table, Patriarch," Rick replied lazily, accepting the apology with the arrogant grace of a true emperor.

Rick turned his broad back on the silent, awestruck crowd, offering his arm to Elena, as she slipped her soft hand through his, her heart hammering wildly with pure, undeniable devotion.

They walked side-by-side down the pristine stone pathway, leaving the elite guests and the greedy relatives to choke on their own profound humiliation, having completely conquered the high-society battlefield without breaking a single sweat.