Sister Chen's voice softened, though the worry in her eyes only deepened. "Yirou… why are you so desperate to destroy a newcomer?"
Cao Yirou turned sharply. "Because that role should've been mine."
Her voice rose, sharp and unsteady. "Star My Destination isn't just any script. That role—Lin Meixin—could've pushed me straight into A-list territory."
Sister Chen frowned. "Yirou, listen to me. You're already stable. You don't need—"
"I do!" Cao Yirou cut her off, her breathing uneven. "I don't want to stay B-list forever. I'm tired of being 'almost there.' Tired of watching others jump ahead of me."
She laughed suddenly, the sound brittle. "Do you know how many years I've waited? How many favors have I paid? How many times did I lower myself just to get where I am?"
Sister Chen stepped closer. "But this isn't the way. You still have other good scripts—"
Cao Yirou wasn't listening anymore.
Her eyes burned, fixed on something only she could see. "If I had gotten that role, everything would've changed. Endorsements. Awards. Respect." Her fingers trembled. "She took that from me."
"She didn't take anything," Sister Chen said firmly. "That role was never yours to begin with."
Cao Yirou's chest heaved, her anger bubbling past reason. "Never mine? Don't tell me what's mine and what's not!" Her voice cracked, sharp and desperate. "I've worked too hard to be stuck at B-list! That role… that script… it could have put me on top!"
Sister Chen stepped closer, calm but unwavering. "Yirou, listen to me. Destroying a newcomer won't get you there. There are plenty of good scripts, opportunities waiting for you. Stop ruining your own career over one role."
"I don't care!" Cao Yirou snapped, her hands clawing at the edge of the marble table. "Everyone wants the new face, everyone loves the rising star! If I don't fight back, I'll be forgotten!"
Sister Chen's expression darkened. "And if you keep going like this, that's exactly what will happen. You're not just hurting her—you're burning your own bridges. Stop this before it's too late."
Cao Yirou's gaze wavered for a split second, but the fire in her eyes didn't die. She shook her head violently, as if trying to shake off Sister Chen's words. "I… I can't just sit and do nothing. I won't!"
Sister Chen sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Then don't say I didn't warn you. One wrong move now, and all your hard work, all your so-called achievements… gone."
The room fell silent, heavy with tension. Cao Yirou's chest rose and fell rapidly, caught between fury and fear. She didn't notice the assistant quietly stepping back, watching the scene with wide, worried eyes.
For the first time, Cao Yirou felt the walls of control she had built around herself starting to crack—but she refused to let them break entirely.
Sister Chen's eyes softened, but there was a deep disappointment buried beneath her calm. She had thought she understood Cao Yirou—but now, seeing this unrestrained fury, she realized how little she had truly known.
"Yirou…" she said quietly, her voice steady but edged with finality, "if you refuse to stop, then I can't help you anymore. The company will assign a new manager."
Cao Yirou's head snapped up, fury flaring, but Sister Chen didn't wait for a response. She turned on her heel, walking toward the door. "Think carefully about what you're doing," she called over her shoulder before stepping out.
The assistant lingered for a moment, eyes flicking nervously between Cao Yirou and the door. Finally, swallowing hard, they followed Sister Chen out, leaving Cao Yirou alone in the penthouse.
The apartment felt vast and silent, the echoes of her anger bouncing off the walls. Cao Yirou sank into the sofa, clutching her phone, the weight of her isolation pressing down on her. For the first time, there was no one to shield her, no one to feed her schemes, and no one to temper her rage.
And outside, the world kept moving—whether she was ready or not.
Across the city, Li Zhenwei was already moving.
The moment Sister Chen left Cao Yirou's penthouse, Li Zhenwei received final confirmation from his team. Screens lit up in front of him—timelines, screenshots, chat records, and linked accounts laid out clearly. Every thread led back to the same source.
"So she chose not to stop," he said calmly. There was no anger in his voice, only resolve. "Then we end this cleanly."
He gave a short nod. "Begin."
Xing Xia's PR team moved in quiet coordination.
First, the official accounts released clear, factual statements—no emotion, no accusations. Just the casting timeline. Director Zhang's confirmation. Proof that Lin Meixin's role had never been promised to anyone else.
At the same time, marketing and analysis accounts began posting on their own.
They broke down how the rumors spread. How the same wording appeared across different gossip pages. How accusations always started in private fan circles before being pushed outward.
"This isn't random," one post noted. "It's organized."
Another pointed out, "Every wave traces back to the same few sources."
Then a deeper layer surfaced.
Old incidents were brought back into the light—past cases where lesser-known actresses had been framed and quietly pushed out of the industry. Screenshots and timelines showed the same pattern. The same methods. The same targets.
The name didn't need to be said.
Finally, finance-focused accounts released long threads analyzing public records and reported income.
"Cao Yirou's declared earnings do not match her endorsements and project fees.""Estimated tax evasion: over 10 million RMB."
Numbers replaced rumors. Evidence replaced speculation.
The tone online shifted instantly.
"This isn't gossip anymore.""This is a legal issue.""So many actresses were ruined back then… Was this her doing?""No wonder she's panicking."
Posts defending Cao Yirou disappeared one after another. Influencers went silent. Some hurried to distance themselves.
Li Zhenwei approved one final statement from the production team:
"Star My Destination's casting process was fair and professional. Any malicious rumor-spreading will be handled according to the law."
No names were mentioned.
None were needed.
Li Zhenwei closed his laptop slowly. "This stopped being about Muyao the moment she crossed the legal line," he said quietly. "This is the price of what she's done."
Across Hua City, in the brightly lit penthouse, Cao Yirou's phone began to ring.
Again.
And again.
But this time, every call carried the same message—
The stage was no longer hers to control.
The situation escalated faster than Cao Yirou had imagined.
Once the tax evasion was exposed, the tax bureau moved immediately. A formal investigation was launched, auditing her income, contracts, and past projects one by one. There was no delay. No room to negotiate behind closed doors.
Soon after, another blow followed.
Brands she had endorsed reviewed their contracts and activated the penalty clauses. Any illegal behavior or major scandal during the endorsement period was considered a direct breach.
Cao Yirou had crossed that line.
Termination notices arrived one after another.
Not only were the contracts canceled, but she was also required to pay massive compensation—millions of RMB—to the companies she had represented. Lawsuits were filed swiftly, each one colder and more decisive than the last.
What she feared most became reality.
She wasn't just facing a ban from the entertainment industry anymore.
She was facing court.
She was facing prison.
The news spread quickly. Platforms removed her past work. Upcoming projects erased her name overnight. Industry insiders distanced themselves, unwilling to be associated with someone under legal investigation.
In just one day, everything Cao Yirou had built—status, fame, protection—collapsed completely.
The penthouse that once symbolized her success now felt like a cage.
For the first time, there was no escape route left.
No connections to call.No manager to clean up the mess.No audience willing to listen.
Cao Yirou finally realized—
This wasn't a downfall.
It was the end.