Devil's Prisoner of Love by Prefer

Gemma looked as if she'd seen a ghost. Her voice wavered as she muttered, "How could this happen? Impossible. This is absolutely impossible." Just that morning, she'd watched Heather storm out in a rage, even slapping her twice. Candy had been declared allergic-Gemma had heard it with her own ears.

But now, Candy stood right in front of her, dressed to perfection, her makeup flawless, with not the slightest hint of the rash Gemma had banked on. To make matters worse, Candy was performing the thsong for the promotional video. Whether intentional or not, the smile on Candy's face felt like a dagger, sharp and mocking. Gemma squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms. A chill swept over her, though she couldn't tell if it was the cutting wind or the icy dread settling in her chest.

She had lost. Completely.

Her carefully laid plan had detonated in her face. She'd hoped to use Candy's supposed "allergy" to wreck Heather's reputation, undermine lan's recent progress, and, above all, throw Aurora's product launch into chaos. She'd imagined Aurora's frustration, her humiliation.

But now, the castle of her schemes had crumbled. Her dream of revenge lay in ruins. Worse, her failure wasn't just personal-she was staring down the very real prospect of being fired by Sun.

If her plan had succeeded, the fallout wouldn't have mattered. Losing her job would've been a small price to pay for the damage she could've inflicted on her rivals. But instead, not only had they escaped unscathed, they'd triumphed. Gemma stood there, drowning in her defeat, while Candy's bright, mocking eyes seemed to pierce straight through her.

The laughter and music from the crowd felt distant and cruel. Gemma's chest tightened, smothering her. She couldn't bear it. Without so much as a glance back, she slipped away from the bustling scene.

Aurora's launch event was nothing short of a spectacle. The venue pulsed with energy- music, laughter, and celebration spilling out into the night. In contrast, Marcos' event was bleak, lifeless, and already fading into irrelevance.

Marcos had underestimated Aurora from the start. He'd dismissed her efforts as amateurish, confident that his reputation alone would carry the day. He hadn't bothered to put much thought into the early stages of promotion.

Even the celebrity guest he'd invited, Sophie, was a last-minute addition. She was a moderately popular actress in Clothville, but her fcouldn't hold a candle to Candy's star power. And Candy wasn't just attending Aurora's event-she was performing.

Her live rendition of the thsong was an instant hit, pulling the crowd toward Aurora's venue like a magnet. Aurora's event had it all: celebrities, luxury cars, influencers, and meticulous planning. Everything had fallen perfectly into place-timing, location, and execution. The result was a dazzling celebration that felt less like a product launch and more like a gala for the elite.

Marcos, on the other hand, had nothing to compete. Sophie, standing underwhelmed in the spotlight, had no special performance planned. The entire event felt rushed and uninspired.

As the crowd began to thin, the cracks in Marcos' strategy grew impossible to ignore. "This is boring," someone muttered.

"Yeah, let's check out the other party," another chimed in.

And just like that, the crowd surged toward Aurora's venue.

Reporters scrambled to cover the action. Multiple platforms began live-streaming the event, making the excitement accessible to viewers everywhere.

Sophie, left standing awkwardly in the nearly empty room, felt humiliation creeping up her spine. She couldn't take it anymore.

"I have another appointment," she muttered to Susan, her voice tight.

Susan tried to stop her, but Sophie shook her off. She'd only agreed to attend as a favor, and with the event turning into such a disaster, she saw no reason to stay.

Unpaid, unappreciated, and now humiliated, Sophie wasn't about to let this debacle tarnish her reputation. She slipped out, taking her fans with her.

By the tshe was gone, Marcos' launch event was a ghost town.

Meanwhile, Aurora's venue was overflowing. The buzz of excitement was palpable, the energy electric.

The on-site sales had begun, and the results were staggering. Aurora's product was a limited edition-only 1, 000 bottles had been produced. Half of those were available for purchase at the event, and all 500 bottles sold out in less than twenty minutes.

The allure of the celebrity endorsement, the emotional resonance of the promotional campaign, and the exclusivity of the product had created a perfect storm. Women rushed to buy, the words "limited edition" driving them into a frenzy.

Those lucky enough to snag a bottle were ecstatic, while those who missed out jumped at the chance to pre- order. Aurora's team had planned for this, offering a pre-order system for the second batch. Customers could pay a deposit to secure their bottle, guaranteeing delivery before the product hit store shelves.

The strategy was genius, and the results showed it. Sbuyers even ordered extra bottles for friends, while scalpers joined in, sensing a lucrative opportunity.

The scene was chaotic-an overwhelming success by any measure.

In stark contrast, Marcos' side was a wasteland. Tens of thousands of bottles sat untouched.

Susan, standing beside Marcos, tugged at his sleeve "Marcos, let's e go. The staff can handle this."

Marcos didn't respond. His jaw was e tight, his gaze fixed on Aurora's m triumphant venue across the way. As Marcos and Susan left, reporters swarmed them. Cameras flashed, microphones thrust forward.

"Mr. Giron, you spent months preparing for this launch. Are You this satisfied with today's results?" Marcos clenched his fists. The question hung in the air like a taunt.

"Mr. Giron, it's been said that Miss Montgomery initially wanted to collaborate with you. Why do you think she chose to start her own brand instead?" "Mr. Giron, how are you feeling about today' event?" The reporters didn't let up, their questions sharp and relentless. Marcos remained silent, his expression frozen, his defeat laid bare for all to see.

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