Chapter 4: The Coronation

Six months later, Solaria had entered the "Age of Ella."

The new girl group she led, Rebel Angels, debuted at the absolute peak. Within the first hour of its release, their debut album crashed the servers of the three major music platforms. In the music video for their title track, every frame featuring Ella was analyzed by fans and worshipped as a visual bible. From the giant holographic billboards in the city's core to the life-sized cutouts in convenience stores, her face was everywhere.

The name Ella had become synonymous with a phenomenon. She was sweet yet distant, powerful yet fragile—a perfect embodiment of all the era's aesthetic ideals.

But storms always gather on the sunniest of days.

That night, after a celebration party, Ella had just returned to her penthouse apartment when her Personal Terminal began to vibrate uncontrollably. A message from her manager arrived, laced with unprecedented panic: "Don't go online! Whatever you do, don't look!"

Of course, she had to look.

The hashtag Ella'sFacadeCrumbles had skyrocketed to the top of the trending list, blazing like a wildfire, marked with a scarlet "EXPLODING" tag.

She clicked on it. It was a three-minute-long "top-secret backstage recording." In the video, a girl who looked exactly like her was verbally abusing her teammates with vicious language. "With a face like yours, you think you deserve to stand next to me?" "Try to steal my spotlight again, and see if I don't make sure you can't survive in Solaria."

The "Ella" in the video had a fierce gaze and a contorted expression, even shoving one of the members to the ground. This was followed by a series of indecent photos and screenshots of her disparaging fans on a private account.

The video was seamlessly fabricated.

The volcano of public opinion erupted instantly. The adoration she once received was now matched by the deadliness of the backlash.

"Get out of the entertainment industry!" "To think I spent so much money on you, you two-faced liar!" "An angel? Don't make me laugh! She's a devil!"

Within half an hour, brands she endorsed issued statements terminating their contracts. The company's stock price plummeted the second the market opened, triggering a circuit breaker. All activities for the Rebel Angels were suspended indefinitely.

Ella turned off her terminal. The apartment fell into a dead silence. She walked to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a glass of ice water, her fingertips perfectly steady. Her mind was racing.

This was no petty trick like Flora Lin's. This was war.

She immediately contacted the man with the gold-rimmed glasses from the Risk Control Department. For the first time, his voice carried a hint of exhaustion. "We've analyzed it, Miss Ella. We can't find any trace of splicing. Technically speaking, it is 'real.' The computing power of the other party is beyond imagination."

Her escape route was cut off. She tried to contact several senior executives who had previously shown her favor. Without exception, they all rejected her calls.

The next day, she was summoned to CEO Damien Feng's office.

Damien Feng looked as if he had aged ten years overnight. He stared at Ella, his eyes devoid of their former admiration, now filled only with cold, commercial calculation. "The tech department says they can't find a problem. The PR department says public opinion is out of control. Now, you listen to me."

He slammed a document on the table—a pre-drafted "Statement of Retirement from the Industry."

"Ella, it wasn't easy for the company to build you up," Damien Feng's voice was hoarse and ruthless. "You voluntarily retire, take the fall for everything. This is the best outcome for the company and the other members. The company will give you a compensation package, enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life."

Ella looked at him and suddenly smiled. This was the company she had been loyal to. This was the man who had praised her for her "clean background." In the face of an absolute storm of interests, she, the perfect chess piece, had become the first to be sacrificed.

She didn't sign it. She stood up calmly. "I need to think about it."

Walking out of the CEO's office, the entire world seemed filled with malice. In the hallway, employees who had once greeted her with smiles now avoided her like the plague, their eyes filled with contempt and fear.

Returning to her empty apartment, she felt a sense of powerlessness for the first time. All her schemes, all her tactics, were fragile and useless against this inescapable net woven from absolute capital and power.

She had been abandoned by the world.

Ella drew the curtains, shutting out all the light from outside. She sat in the darkness for ten minutes, then, from a hidden compartment in the depths of her suitcase, she retrieved what looked like an antique, a non-grid encrypted communicator. It was the only thing she had taken with her when she left home.

She took a deep breath and dialed the number she knew by heart but had never called.

A few seconds later, the call connected. A calm, elderly voice came from the other end, devoid of any emotion. "Miss."

It was her family's old butler, Benson.

"Benson," Ella's voice carried a weariness even she hadn't noticed, "I'm in trouble."

"Miss, the Master said that the path you choose is one you must walk to the end. You know the rules of the Xia family," Benson's tone was as respectful as ever, yet held an unshakeable distance.

Ella fell silent. She walked to the window and threw open the curtains. Below, a sea of reporters, drawn by the scent of scandal, had gathered, their camera flashes creating a blinding ocean of light.

Her expression changed. The deliberately cultivated softness and sweetness of an idol were utterly crushed and stripped away in that instant. In their place was an innate, unquestionable authority.

"I am not asking the family for a single cent of investment," her voice was not loud, but it resonated with power. "I am informing you that someone has taken the Xia family's honor, ground it into the mud of Solaria, and is stomping all over it."

She enunciated each word, her voice chilling to the bone.

"His daughter can conquer the world on her own. But she will not be humiliated by a bunch of cowardly nobodies with such despicable methods. Benson, this is no longer about me. This is about the Xia family."

There was a ten-second silence on the other end of the line.

Then, Benson's voice returned, just as cold, but with a terrifying efficiency. "Understood, Miss. Please disconnect from all external networks and rest for half an hour. The storm will pass in thirty minutes."

The call ended.

Thirty minutes later.

The financial news channel ran an emergency broadcast: Radiant Entertainment and twelve other media companies were anonymously reported for malicious market manipulation and massive financial fraud. The Solaria Cultural Bureau had launched an investigation, several high-level executives were taken away on the spot, and their stock prices instantly hit the limit down, triggering circuit breakers.

Multiple security agencies issued public statements: The "Ella bullying video" was confirmed to be a deepfake created by a hacker organization. The data fingerprint has already locked onto the suspects.

All media outlets and marketing accounts that had attacked Ella were permanently banned at the same moment, as if erased from the digital world by an invisible hand.

Half an hour later, Ella's terminal rang frantically. It was CEO Damien Feng. His voice was filled with terror and sycophancy. "E-Miss Xia! It was all a misunderstanding! A complete misunderstanding! Where are you? The statement the company drafted... it was a last resort, please don't take it to heart! Please, just think of it as a joke."

"Well then, I'll have to reconsider, won't I?"

She hung up crisply. Standing before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, she looked down at the reporters below, who were now beginning to panic.

Just then, the encrypted communicator rang again. Benson's voice had returned to its usual calm.

"Miss, the trash has been taken care of. Also, the Master asked me to relay a message to you."

Benson paused, then continued in a matter-of-fact tone:

"He said, 'The children's games should be over now. When you're tired of playing, come home and inherit the family business.'"