Part 4: Flipping the Feed
I stepped into the backstage tent just as Vanessa was screaming at the house staff, "Security! Remove this girl immediately! She cheated!"
Two wealthy contestants—Madison Greer and Sloane Hartwell—stood directly behind Vanessa, smirking. Madison still had her hand hovering near Grace’s shoulder, having clearly shoved her seconds before. Sloane whispered loudly, "Go back to whatever military charity dragged you up."
A senior judge named Martin Pike sat nearby with his arms tightly crossed, deliberately looking at the ceiling to pretend he wasn't witnessing an assault.
I stepped directly into Vanessa's line of sight. She sneered, eyeing my plain suit. "If you’re her handler or her guardian, you can drag her out into the alley before I have the police trespass her."
Grace murmured softly behind me, "Caleb..."
I kept my eyes locked on Vanessa. "Are you hurt, Grace?"
"My cheek stings," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "And they ruined the dress."
Vanessa let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Please. That cheap rag was never appropriate for a stage of this caliber anyway."
Cruelty always exposes its true depth in the smallest, most dismissive comments. I calmly placed my black leather folder onto the pristine white makeup counter. The room grew dead silent. Vanessa's eyes flicked down to the embossed silver seal of Rowe Dominion Media.
I looked up at the ceiling track.
"Keep the cameras rolling," I said quietly.
Elliot the producer instantly clutched his headset. "All live backstage feeds remain active and recording, sir."
Vanessa spun around, her face twisting. "Turn those cameras off this instant!"
"I can't, Ms. Vale," Elliot stammered, backing away.
May you like
"I am the chairwoman of this committee!"
"And he," Elliot whispered, looking at me with absolute terror, "is the owner of the network."
