Mr. Liu slammed his palm against the table, veins standing out on his forehead.
“Do you know what people are saying outside?!” he roared. “Do you know how many calls I had to answer today?!”
Mengmeng stood rigid, her face pale but stubborn.
“This wasn’t my fault,” she said sharply. “Someone sabotaged us.”
“Sabotaged?” Mr. Liu laughed bitterly. “You embarrassed us in front of the Lawson family! In front of everyone!”
Yun Wantang sat quietly nearby, hands folded, expression composed.
Too composed.
She had not expected things to spiral this far.
The plan had been simple. Clean. Controlled.
Yet somehow, Zhuqing had walked away unscathed—while Mengmeng and Jason became the laughingstock of the city.
“How could Zhuqing escape?” Yun Wantang wondered silently.
This wasn’t coincidence.
Mengmeng clenched her fists.
“Zhuqing did this,” she insisted. “She must have.”
Her voice shook—not with certainty, but with something closer to fear.
Because deep down, she felt it.
The future she remembered… was slipping.
That night, Mengmeng stared at her reflection in the mirror.
The confident smile she once practiced so easily wouldn’t settle on her face anymore.
The banquet wasn’t supposed to end like this.
Jason wasn’t supposed to be ruined so early.
Zhuqing wasn’t supposed to stand so high.
Her memories—her advantage—were no longer absolute.
A dangerous realization took root.
Zhuqing is changing the future.
And if the future could change…
Then Mengmeng was no longer safe.
Her eyes darkened.
If Zhuqing had become a variable—
Then she had to be dealt with.
The banquet ended early, but the consequences did not.
By the next morning, the internet was already awake—and vicious.
Photos spread first.
Blurry at the edges, cruelly clear at the center.
A young man bent forward, face pale and twisted, trousers visibly stained.
A woman clutching her skirt, expression frozen between humiliation and panic.
Someone had even circled the darker patches in red.
The captions came faster than the truth ever could.
“Lowest-tier guests disgraced Lawson family banquet.”
“Who brought these people in?”
“Rich families really do have standards. Guess some people just don’t belong.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
every major platform was flooded with
Trending Headlines:
“Lawson Family Banquet Ends in Scandal — Low-Tier Guests Removed Mid-Event”
“Shocking Scene at Elite Dinner: ‘Guests Lose Control’”
“Liu Family’s Eldest Daughter Embarrasses Herself and Her Husband”
“From Engagement to Disgrace: A Tale of Two Marriages”
Then the comparison posts emerged.
Side-by-side images appeared—almost artistically cruel.
On one side: Liu Zhuqing, arm-in-arm with Asmodeus Shaw, posture calm, expression distant, walking out beneath crystal lights.
On the other: Liu Mengmeng, head bowed, face blurred by motion, surrounded by chaos.
Netizens didn’t hold back.
“Same family, two daughters—one looks like a goddess, the other like a joke.”
“Did they swap luck at birth?”
“One married into a top-tier family, the other married… this?”
“The Liu family really raised them differently.”
"Same parents. Same upbringing. Completely different destinies.”
“One married into the clouds. The other slipped in the mud.”
“The gap between sisters is wider than the class divide.”
Comment sections exploded.
“That poor Lawson family… imagine hosting a banquet and this happens.”
“The husband looked like he lost his last chance at life.”
“I’d change my name if I were the Liu family.”
Some comments went further.
“This is what happens when you try to climb too high without the ability to stand there.”
“Embarrassing not just themselves, but the entire Liu family.”
The Liu name trended—briefly, violently—and then sank under the weight of ridicule.
Then speculation sharpened.
After a week , Some users noticed something odd.
The trending tags—
#LawsonBanquetScandal, #LiuMengmengDisgrace—
rose fast…
And then disappeared.
Quietly.
Systematically.
New comments popped up.
“Why did the hot searches vanish?”
“This was blowing up an hour ago—now it’s gone?”
“Someone definitely stepped in.”
And naturally, fingers pointed upward.
“The Shaw family, obviously.”
“They’re in-laws now. Of course they’d suppress it.”
“Poor Zhuqing. Imagine marrying into a top family and still having to clean up your birth family’s mess.”
Pity replaced mockery—at least for her.
“She must be so embarrassed by them.”
“Probably had to beg the Shaw family elders to help smooth things over.”
“Being successful doesn’t mean you can escape your family.”
Others shook their heads sympathetically.
“Eldest daughter of the Liu family is a liability.”
“No wonder the second daughter rarely shows her face with them.”
“If I were her, I’d cut ties completely.”
No one guessed the truth.
That the hot searches disappeared not because Zhuqing begged—
But because of Mr.Liu who was working his ass off trying take down the hot searches. and countless of his marketing employees working overtime to salvage the company's image.
Jason felt it immediately.
Emails went unanswered.
Messages remained unread.
A meeting scheduled weeks in advance was canceled with a single, cold sentence:
“After internal discussion, we’ve decided not to proceed.”
He sat alone at the small desk in his bedroom, laptop open, screen glowing uselessly.
His phone buzzed once—then stopped.
Hope didn’t collapse loudly.
It drained away quietly, leaving behind a hollow pressure in his chest.
The banquet had been his only chance.
He knew that now.
And it was gone.
He couldn’t even meet anyone’s eyes anymore—every glance felt like a reminder of doors that had already closed.
For the first time since his marriage, a thought surfaced unbidden and terrifying:
Was this really just bad luck… or had something gone wrong far earlier?
Across the city, Zhuqing read the news over breakfast.
She scrolled calmly.
Screenshots.
Headlines.
Speculation.
She didn’t pause for long.
The Liu family’s reactions didn’t burden her. They weren’t her concern anymore.
She simply categorized the outcome.
Mengmeng: unstable, reactive
Jason: fragile, collapsing
Liu family: weakened leverage
Not threats, she concluded.
But potential noise.
She set the phone aside and returned to her notes.
Her mission hadn’t changed.
Complete objectives.
Accumulate strength.
Move forward.
Emotional entanglements were inefficient.
The Shaw family, however, did not treat the matter lightly.
By the second afternoon, a message reached Mr. Liu—formal, restrained, unmistakably cold.
The Shaw family had taken note.
Not of the banquet scandal itself—
But of the attempted humiliation of the wife of the next Shaw family head.
They requested a private settlement.
No publicity.
No escalation.
One chance to resolve it quietly.
Mr. Liu understood immediately.
This was not a request.
That evening, valuable jade pieces were delivered.
Antiques with verified provenance.
A discreet transfer of funds large enough to sting—but not enough to offend further.
An apology, paid in silence.
The Shaw family accepted.
And the matter was closed.
Online, netizens noticed something else.
The Liu family suddenly went quiet.
No statements.
No rebuttals.
No defenses.
Someone commented:
“When a rich family goes silent, it usually means they’re paying for it.”
Another replied:
“Looks like the Shaw family protected their daughter-in-law.”
And beneath that:
“As they should. One daughter is worth ten of the other.”
That night, Zhuqing stood by the window of the Shaw residence, city lights stretching endlessly below.
She wasn’t thinking about Mengmeng.
She was thinking about her next step.
The mission clock was still ticking.