?Chapter 801:


    By now, night had settled in, and it was close to 7 p.m. The concert was minutes from starting. Most of the fans had already gone into the stadium, leaving the entrance area nearly empty.


    Rosie bought two glow sticks at the gate and passed one to Maxley. Arm in arm, they made their way inside.


    Their seats were in the inner rows, close to the stage, though not quite near Brenna’s section.


    Brenna, meanwhile, was fixated on her screen, eyes locked on the Harper Group’s statement and Rosie’s post. The stadium buzzed with noise around her, and she hadn’t noticed Rosie’s presence in the crowd.


    Onstage, a wave of performers moved in perfect sync, their energy lighting up the arena and stirring the audience to life. Fans were on the edge of their seats, counting down to Dalton’s arrival. The moment the concert began, the crowd exploded. Brenna had never seen anything like it; Dalton’s poprity was undeniable.


    The crowd was electrified. They sang every word and screamed Dalton’s name, and some women even cried uncontrobly after shaking his hand,pletely overwhelmed by emotions. Brenna didn’t get the obsession, but she respected their passion.


    Rosie, on the other hand, was displeased by this.


    “Isn’t Dalton just an actor? How’s he suddenly this amazing live singer?” she muttered. “I’ve heard a few of his songs. They were average at best.” She couldn’t fathom what made Dalton so popr.


    She let out a chillyugh. “Let’s see how his fans take it when the truth drops that he snatched his sister’s shares. Will they keep worshiping him, or will they turn on himpletely? By then, Dalton’s image will be wrecked, and they’ll likely boo him right off the stage. If they all start asking for refunds, just how much do you think Dalton’s going to lose?” She smiled, clearly satisfied with the thought.


    Maxley, however, didn’t seem to hear her. He was lost in the performance, eyes glued to Dalton, waving his glow stick to the beat.


    Rosie gave his sleeve a small tug, frowning. “Seriously? Is his performance really that good?”


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    “His dramas are popr in Plieca, too,” Maxley admitted, not looking away. “People there love the theme songs he sings; they’re actually pretty good.” Realizing that he had just praised Dalton, he added, “Honestly, the guy’s got real talent. Too bad he’s a Harper.”


    Rosie bristled at thement, her anger ring instantly. So what if Dalton was an international superstar? She refused to recognize his so-called talent, no matter how many fans screamed his name.


    “Is he really that impressive?” she muttered, standing up with a huff. “I’m going now.”


    Maxley, too caught up in the performance, barely nced her way. “Yeah, sure,” he said absentmindedly. Their n had been mapped out earlier at home, so there was nothing to worry about.


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