Chapter 339

Sophia Laurent's face twisted in humiliation. The moment Adrian Blackwood exposed her scheme, waves of shame crashed over her.

"I—I tripped on my gown!" Sophia stammered.

Adrian drawled, "Oh?" His mocking tone made it clear nobody bought her excuse.

Evelyn Sinclair barely suppressed an eye roll. She just wanted to finish this ridiculous game and escape this circus. "Need to change?" she offered curtly.

Sophia nodded too quickly, scrambling to her feet. Ethan Caldwell smirked. "No twisted ankle requiring my chivalry this time? My back's still recovering from last episode's performance."

Scarlet flooded Sophia's cheeks.

Ethan was throwing her previous staged fall in her face. She glanced desperately at Nathan Blackwood, but his indifference cut deeper than any insult. He'd known. Known she'd thrown herself at him deliberately.

The revulsion in his gaze burned. All her carefully crafted plans had turned her into tonight's laughingstock.

Who could've predicted Nathan would sidestep instead of catching her? That he'd let her tumble up the stairs like discarded trash? Sophia gnawed her lip, forcing a brittle smile. "Just my dress. I'll change." She fled toward her waiting assistant, clutching ruined satin.

Before the game even began, #SophiaFloppedAgain trended worldwide.

[Pathetic!]

[That kick was legendary!]

[Most Promising Neer? More like Most Pathetic Actress!]

[Ethan's savage! "Twisted his back" LOL!]

[Nathan Blackwood's disgust face is my new screensaver]

[Queen Evelyn's expression: "Must I endure this clownery?"]

The live show rolled on without her.

Evelyn turned toward the challenge area—rusty equipment littering tables, three walls lined with potential hiding spots. She didn't rush to search. Instead, she climbed onto a crate, surveying the space with military precision.

Nathan approached, all arrogant charm. "Found anything?"

Evelyn's jaw tightened. Every interaction with him risked sparking remarriage rumors. She shot him a withering glare. "Do your own reconnaissance. We're not teammates."

She marched toward the nearest cabinet, but Nathan followed like a shadow.

Evelyn whirled around. "Are you illiterate? I said—"

The cameraman nearly dropped his equipment. The director had specifically ordered careful coverage of Nathan Blackwood—PR teams on standby, damage control protocols ready. Yet here were two billionaires bickering like divorced neighbors over a fence.

Compared to the show's usual scripted drama, this raw tension was ratings gold.

Nathan merely smirked and stepped closer. "Make me leave."