Jaw-Dropping Son-in-Law

As Jessica lounged on the couch in the office of the chief designer at the headquarters of Luther

Group, she was engaged in a conversation with several designers.

“That plagiarizer, Bailey, might never recover from this, Jessica. According to the rules, your work will

emerge victorious after her blacklist. Mr. Luther has declared to the directors of various other

departments that he will promote whoever it is to design Ms. Caridee's gown to lead designer.”

“That's right! After this incident, the position of lead designer would fall onto you, Jessica. Though that

b*tch Bailey is wicked, she isn't completely useless. At least she'd managed to get Mr. Luther to agree

to fill the position.”

“If you could design a gown that pleases Ms. Caridee, Jessica, you would make a splash at her

coming-of-age ceremony. The international celebrities would be lining up to make an appointment for

you to design their gowns.”

The flattery toward Jessica was very effective.

She had claimed dominance in a company as large as Luther Group. If Bailey had not turned up, there

was no way she could have lost the competition. Also, nobody would dare take her, the disciple of Eve,

head-on.

“That's right. Speaking of which, I need to thank that b*tch. If it weren't for her, Mr. Luther would not

have readily suggested promoting somebody to lead designer. Even if I take some of the splashes, the

effort she had put in was destined for me.”

The room rang with laughter at her words, followed by another chorus of flattery.

“By the way, Jessica, I'd heard from a friend on The Today Show that Bailey's hiding place is exposed,

and a large crowd of reporters is rushing there. Though it would not cause her any material harm, it

would still serve to nauseate her.”

Curling her red lips, Jessica put on an act of feigned surprise. “Really? I wonder who leaked it?

Perhaps it's someone on our side who despises her evilness like us.”

“She can't blame anyone except herself for being despicable and arrogant. Serves her right.”

Jessica cackled and was about to open her mouth to add another snark remark when an assistant

dashed in.

“S-Something's happened, Jessica,” she said. “There are a lot of reporters in the lobby on the first floor.

They're demanding to see, wanting an explanation from you.”

The smile on Jessica's face froze as she leaped up from the couch. A sense of foreboding rose within

her. “R-Reporters from which media company?”

“There are some from Fashionista, and some from the Today Show, and...”

Hearing that, Jessica turned deathly pale.

I was the one who leaked Bailey's hiding place to the media, and now they've come here for me

instead of going to the hotel. What does that indicate?

She did not dare finish that thought.

I have instigated the media by fanning the flames to make Bailey the subject of debate and damage

Luther Group's reputation. If Mr. Luther found out, I'd be dead. D*mn it! I shouldn't have acted rashly,

nor should I have personally contacted the media. I was overly excited that time and, as a result, had

forgotten myself and committed such a rookie mistake.

Upon further introspection, she felt she had been rather foolish.

“I-I can't meet with them. Have the security show them out.”

The assistant gazed at her, conflicted and on the verge of tears. “I can't, Jessica. They're causing too

big of a commotion and have alerted the public relations department. Mr. Longman wants you to meet

them, or he will report it to Mr. Luther.”

At that, Jessica shuddered violently.

“What's wrong, Jessica? Is there a misunderstanding?”

“Has anything troublesome happened, Jessica? Tell us, and we'll see if we can help you.”

Jessica pulled the closest designer toward her. “I was the one who leaked Bailey's whereabouts,” she

cried. “I don't know what happened or why the reporters came to the company. Cover for me, will you,

Mimi? Tell them you were the one who leaked Bailey's whereabouts to me, and then—”

“Jessica!” The designer called Mimi flung her hand roughly aside before taking several steps back. “Are

you throwing me under the bus?” she asked angrily. “It is one of our great taboos to instigate the media

and create drama, and I would be fired if Mr. Luther found out. We have no grudges. Why would you do

this to me?”

Having lost all composure, Jessica set her sights on another designer.

The other felt her pleading gaze and took several steps back hastily. “Um, I have some drafts to

amend, Jessica. I'll be heading back to work! Talk soon.”

“Me too. I have work to do as well. I'm heading back.”

They were not stupid. The blame was a curse to whoever took it over as their own. Even if they

survived the ramifications, they would not come out in one piece.

“There are some from Fashionista, and some from the Today Show, and...”

The monthly salary of a hundred thousand offered by Luther Group is too irresistible to give up to be a

scapegoat for that woman.

To put it bluntly, it would only be another opportunity for advancement for the designers if Jessica was

out of the picture.

Many within the design department were hoping for her dismissal.

Jessica glared at the few who had slipped out of the office, her face contorted with rage.

They were my friends who bonded over hating a common enemy. My artificial friends. How despicable,

yet amusing.

After taking a deep breath to suppress the anger and panic within her, Jessica strode out in her heels.

What am I afraid of?

She was the last disciple of Eve. Luther Group was forced to at least acknowledge that. Her master

had amassed a vast fortune for Luther Group and designed its own brand of clothing for the company.

That was her leverage—the leverage to save herself.

When I return, I will have those b*tches pay their dues. Even if I can't kick them out of the company, I'll

make them worthless.

As she walked out of the elevator in the lobby on the first floor, a large group of reporters swarmed

toward her.

“Didn't you tell us Bailey was in Suite 502 in Century Hotel, Ms. Tanner? Why was Snowflake's disciple,

Juliana, in there?”

“The defendant and the plaintiff had been such good friends that they stayed together. Do you take us

as fools, Ms. Tanner? Did you have fun toying with us?”

“We won't let this go if you can't provide us with an explanation for why you would invent such rumors.”

“That's right. You owe us an explanation. Why did you lie to us?”

Just then, Quentin, the director of the public relations department, ambled toward Jessica. “Was it

really you who had leaked that Ms. Jefferson was in Century Hotel?” he asked in a low voice as he

frowned at her.

Jessica stared back at him, her face pale. “I was taken by slander, too,” she answered in a shaky voice.

“Somebody had instigated me. Please help me, Mr. Longman. Help me deal with these reporters and

keep this from Mr. Luther's ears. I'm begging you.”

Quentin studied her with narrowed eyes. “Apologies,” he said as he shook his head. “I'm powerless to

do so.”

The monthly solory of o hundred thousond offered by Luther Group is too irresistible to give up to be o

scopegoot for thot womon.

To put it bluntly, it would only be onother opportunity for odvoncement for the designers if Jessico wos

out of the picture.

Mony within the design deportment were hoping for her dismissol.

Jessico glored ot the few who hod slipped out of the office, her foce contorted with roge.

They were my friends who bonded over hoting o common enemy. My ortificiol friends. How despicoble,

yet omusing.

After toking o deep breoth to suppress the onger ond ponic within her, Jessico strode out in her heels.

Whot om I ofroid of?

She wos the lost disciple of Eve. Luther Group wos forced to ot leost ocknowledge thot. Her moster

hod omossed o vost fortune for Luther Group ond designed its own brond of clothing for the compony.

Thot wos her leveroge—the leveroge to sove herself.

When I return, I will hove those b*tches poy their dues. Even if I con't kick them out of the compony, I'll

moke them worthless.

As she wolked out of the elevotor in the lobby on the first floor, o lorge group of reporters swormed

toword her.

“Didn't you tell us Boiley wos in Suite 502 in Century Hotel, Ms. Tonner? Why wos Snowfloke's disciple,

Juliono, in there?”

“The defendont ond the plointiff hod been such good friends thot they stoyed together. Do you toke us

os fools, Ms. Tonner? Did you hove fun toying with us?”

“We won't let this go if you con't provide us with on explonotion for why you would invent such rumors.”

“Thot's right. You owe us on explonotion. Why did you lie to us?”

Just then, Quentin, the director of the public relotions deportment, ombled toword Jessico. “Wos it

reolly you who hod leoked thot Ms. Jefferson wos in Century Hotel?” he osked in o low voice os he

frowned ot her.

Jessico stored bock ot him, her foce pole. “I wos token by slonder, too,” she onswered in o shoky voice.

“Somebody hod instigoted me. Pleose help me, Mr. Longmon. Help me deol with these reporters ond

keep this from Mr. Luther's eors. I'm begging you.”

Quentin studied her with norrowed eyes. “Apologies,” he soid os he shook his heod. “I'm powerless to

do so.”