Eight Fiancés. One Queen. Zero Regrets Chapter 06

Eight Fiancés. One Queen. Zero Regrets Chapter 06

Grant still tried to bluff. “Of course you can collude with a hospital.”

Reid smiled. “Your ignorance of both the law and hospital systems is remarkably consistent.”

He walked over and handed Grant a document.

“Civil complaint filed against you on behalf of Aurora Vance. Defamation, libel, and slander. Every word you just said has been recorded and preserved.”

Ford added. “Gala surveillance footage, the original livestream feed, media recordings, on-site audio, and notary timestamps—all sealed.”

“Feel free to keep talking. The settlement amount still has room to increase.”

Grant’s hands trembled. “You planned all this?”

I picked up the microphone and smiled faintly. “Of course.”

The room went silent.

“Grant, you wanted to destroy me in public? I gave you the stage. Cameras. An audience. And a three-minute delay so the raw footage wouldn’t immediately spread online.”

Dashiell smoothly cut in, “Friendly reminder—the version currently airing is the edited one. Your insults have been muted. But the court will hear the original.”

The comments exploded:

[Holy shit, she baited him?]

[This woman is insane, and I love it.]

[He thought he was crashing the party—he walked straight into a trap.]

[Three-minute delay. Genius.]

Zane displayed another set of evidence on the screen: Grant’s chat logs with influencers. Payment records. Hit-piece documents. Maren’s videos. The livestreamers’ invoices. The forged entry pass records.

And the most disgusting line—Grant’s burner account message to a marketer:

[Her biggest fear is being called dirty—lean into that.]

Gasps spread through the ballroom.

I stared at that sentence.

A needle prick in my chest.

Not pain. Disgust.

Colt muttered, “The only reason he’s still standing is because we live in a civilized society.”

Lachlan leaned closer. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Fine. I just need to wash my eyes.”

Dashiell said, “I know an eye surgeon who owes me a favor.”

I glared at him.

He immediately shut up.

Reid handed Grant a second file.

“Mr. Holloway, while we’re at it—you were investigated three years ago for borderline contract fraud.”

“You settled out of court, but the file still exists. Same pattern: forged conversations, shifting blame. This isn’t your first time.”

Grant’s face turned pale.

The refined facade finally shattered.

He shouted, “Aurora, you set me up!”

I looked at him.

“You’re wrong. I didn’t make you spread lies. I didn’t make you buy hit pieces.”

“I didn’t make you bring livestreamers. I didn’t make you call a woman who once genuinely loved you the vilest names you could think of.”

“I simply stood here and watched you perform yourself into the ground.”

Grant lunged for my microphone.

Colt stepped forward, blocking him without even touching my dress.

Security rushed in.

Grant was restrained, looking like shattered porcelain.

Then the police entered.

Grant’s voice cracked.

“You called the police?”

Ford answered calmly, “Illegal entry into a private event. Forged access pass. Organized livestream disruption. Malicious distribution of false information. Public defamation.”

“Mr. Holloway, this isn’t just a few words. It’s a complete package.”