?Chapter 830:


    After all, wealth and power alone could not sustain an event of this caliber. Even with the formidable backing of the Ford family, Corrine should not have been capable of orchestrating something of this magnitude.


    More importantly, the Only Love Foundation had existed for over three decades. Corrine, in her twenties, had no usible connection to its origins. The pieces did not fit.


    It was obvious to Andromache—Corrine was nothing more than a disruptive force, using Nate’s influence to create a spectacle.


    Yet, Corrine, oblivious to the scrutiny behind Andromache’s eyes, merely let a faint smile ghost across her lips. “Do you think I need his support?”


    There was no hesitation in her voice. Her confidence had nevere from another person.


    Not from Nate. Not from anyone. With or without him, she stood her ground.


    A scoff sliced through the air, dripping with mockery.


    “What a fool! Still as stubborn as ever, even now!” Laughter rippled through the crowd, hushed but unmistakable.


    Just moments ago, they had regarded Corrine’s poised speech as a surprising disy. Now, amusement and ridicule darkened their expressions.


    To them, this was no longer a speech—it was a farce. After all, besides Andromache and a select few—Nate, Zeke, Karina—no one knew the truth about Corrine.


    Watching from a distance, Leah felt a glimmer of satisfaction stir in her chest.


    For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt relief. The anger and hatred that had burned in her veins softened. Nothing delighted her more than seeing Corrine humiliated.


    “She really has no idea what she is up against, does she?” someone sneered.


    “She talks big, but she has no clue how this will end for her.”


    Ga ln ovels . fuels your imagination


    “Vain and hypocritical! No wonder Mr. Ashton left her.”


    “She thinks she can stand tall just because Mr. Hopkins is backing her? What a joke. The woman confronting her is someone even Mr. Hopkins respects. Corrine has no idea that she is walking straight into ruin.” The murmurs grew, feeding off one another, their words unrestrained, their contemptid bare.


    Then, a voice cut through the room like a de. Deep, low, andced with an unforgiving chill. “Is it hrious?”


    Like the abrupt plunge of winter’s first frost, the temperature in the hall seemed to drop.


    The amusement drained from the air in an instant. A hush fell over the venue.


    Slowly, deliberately, a man stepped forward, his presence suffocating in its intensity. Each stride was unhurried, yet the sheer weight of it pressed into the atmosphere, thick with unspoken warning.


    His gaze, sharp and ice-cold, swept across the room. The sculpted angles of his face bore no trace of warmth, only a frigid hostility that sent shivers down spines.


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