The Jilted Heiress' Return To The High Life novel Chapter 198

Chapter 198 The Photos And Recording

Tracy’s eyes narrowed as she studied Corrine intently, the weight of suspicion hanging in the air.

The moment shattered as the hall’s sophisticated sound system erupted with voices that left the assembled guests frozen in stunned silence.

“Bruce, do you love me or Corrine?”

“Of course, it’s you… You have no idea how much I love you…”

“Bruce, I want to come back to you. I’m tired of sneaking around in the shadows.”

“Just give me a little more time…”

A ripple of shock passed through the crowd as expressions morphed from confusion to dawning

comprehension. Suddenly, the massive electronic screen at the stage’s center blazed to life, commanding every

eye in the room.

A devastating slideshow unfolded before the stunned audience.

Crystal–clear photographs captured intimate moments: Bruce and Leah locked in a passionate embrace within an elevator, lost in their own world; Leah hurrying into a hotel with Bruce on the very day of her return from

abroad.

Each image painted a damning picture of premeditation–Bruce’s abandonment of Corrine orchestrated while Leah had been his secret companion all along.

The revelation struck Farris like a physical blow. His vision swam as rage coursed through his veins, causing him

to stumble backward.

“Farris!”

The cry rang out as Tracy and Millard lunged forward to steady him.

An icy terror gripped Leah as the images continued their merciless parade.

Her entire body quaked uncontrollably, the color draining from her once–radiant face.

Tracy, witnessing the mounting chaos, bolted toward the computer station. “What are you standing there for? Quickly! Cut the feed! Cut it!” she commanded.

The panicked staff member’s fingers flew across the controls, sweat beading on his forehead as the system remained stubbornly unresponsive.

“Mrs. Ashton, we’ve got a problem. The system–it’s completely unresponsive. Looks like a virus.”

Tracy’s patience snapped. She shoved the staff member aside and seized control herself.

Click. Click. Nothing. The cursor wouldn’t budge, and the keyboard was as useless as dead weight.

Then, in a moment of wild desperation, her gaze darted downward. The power cord. A surge of determination shot through her. With one swift motion, she yanked it out.

The screen flickered once–and then everything went dark.

A long, weighted silence settled over the room, thick with unspoken words. The kind of silence that stretches just before a storm breaks.

And then, like a dam bursting, hushed murmurs flooded the hall.