Warm water slid down his raw, burning throat, offering a fleeting sense of relief.
And then—
The flat-screen TV mounted on the hospital room wall, which had been silently playing a nature documentary, suddenly switched scenes.
A glaring red “Breaking News” banner flashed across the screen as a stern-faced newscaster delivered an urgent report at breakneck speed:
“...Latest update! Police have launched a major operation, successfully cracking a high-profile case of corporate defamation and incitement. Senior executives and planners from Astral Media have been taken into custody. Sources say the group used forged evidence, hired online trolls, and manipulated the public to maliciously slander competitors and artist Yardley, severely disrupting market order and causing widespread social repercussions. The investigation is ongoing...”
Images flickered by: Astral Media’s headquarters surrounded by police cars, blurry footage of employees being led away, and a clipped statement from a police spokesperson.
The language was uncompromising, the verdict clear: Astral Media’s crimes were nailed to the wall for all to see.
But there was not a single mention of the chaos at the contract signing, nothing about the stabbing, and certainly no word of Bennett’s injuries.
It was as if that harrowing attack—the blood, the terror—had never happened at all.
Gwyneth froze, the cup of water suspended midair.
Her gaze shifted from Bennett’s lips to the television, her eyes instantly sharpening, turning cold as steel.
Astral Media taken down?
This fast?
And the news was already out?
Yet every detail about him—erased, as if it never existed.
Who had the kind of power to completely bury news of the Boyd Group’s leader being gravely injured, and do it so swiftly, so flawlessly?
Bennett looked up as well.
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