Ch. The Campus Queen’s Billionaire Husband Is My Secret Spouse” 19 The Campus Queen’s Billionaire Husband Is My Secret Spouse” 19

Chapter 19 

The Summit Group new project launch was at the Veridia Metro International Convention Center. 

Industry partners, investment firm reps, journalists, and government officials filled the hall. 

Over two hundred guests packed the first eight rows of the main venue. 

I arrived after the setup was complete. 

The company’s new logo hung center stage, and project intros cycled across the background screens. 

Amber was in a crimson bodycon dress, standing by the check-in desk, greeting people with a polished 

smile. 

She was in full makeup, her hair swept into a low bun, her diamond earrings catching the light as she 

moved. 

Every time a guest arrived, she’d reach out for a handshake, introducing herself with a single, practiced line: 

“Hi, I’m Amber Howard, Pierce Mason’s fiancée.” 

Stacy stood half a step behind her, playing personal assistant and handing out business cards. 

I stood by the side entrance, watching it all. 

Dr. Helen had come with me. 

“Your rival has some serious nerve, pretending to be you right until the bitter end.” 

“She has no idea what’s coming today.” 

“Are you nervous?” 

“Not at all.” 

“Well, I am.” Dr. Helen rubbed her hands together. 

The launch started sharp at 2:00 PM. 

Pierce took the stage for his address. 

r 

He spoke for ten minutes about the project roadmap, his tone steady, showing no signs of anything unusual. 

Amber, sitting in the crowd, beamed at him, occasionally offering encouraging nods. 

After the speech, the networking portion began. 

Pierce stepped down, walked through the crowd, and stopped in front of Amber. 

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“Amber, come with me. Some guests want to meet you.” 

Amber locked her arm with his. 

“I’d love to.” 

Pierce led her to the head table. 

Three people were sitting there. 

Thomas Sterling, Beatrice, and a middle-aged man I didn’t recognize. 

Seeing Amber approach, Sterling set his teacup down. 

Beatrice kept her head down, her expression unreadable. 

Amber bent forward with exaggerated enthusiasm. 

“Uncle Sterling. Beatrice.” 

Sterling didn’t acknowledge her. 

Beatrice didn’t look up either. 

The atmosphere shifted instantly. 

Amber’s smile faltered, but she recovered quickly, turning to the stranger. 

“And you are?” 

Pierce introduced him. 

“This is Arthur Vance, legal counsel for Summit Group.” 

“Oh, nice to meet you, Mr. Vance.” 

Vance gave a stiff nod, saying nothing. 

He opened the folder in front of him and pulled out a stack of papers, laying them on the table. 

“Ms. Amber Howard.” 

“Yes?” 

“We’ve compiled a dossier, including the complete operating logs of the anonymous account you used to post defamatory information on a local forum.” 

Amber’s complexion shifted. 

Mr. Vance flipped to the second page. 

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“You accessed that account using the home network at Emerald Crest Estates. The posting times match your residency logs at the villa perfectly.” 

“Furthermore, these are the screenshots of your chat history with Ms. Stacy. The content involves plotting libel, forging evidence, and deliberate distortion of facts.” 

He slid the materials toward Amber 

Amber glanced down. 

Her hands began to tremble. 

“This… this isn’t me…” 

“Not you?” Beatrice finally looked up. 

There was no anger on her face. 

Just a cold, hollow realization that she’d been duped. 

“You told me Eleanor was just a contractor who signed a deal. You said Pierce had no feelings for her. You said you were the one he truly loved.” 

“I believed you. I defended you in front of my friends. I backed you up.” 

“And look at this.” 

Beatrice pulled a printed page from her purse, unfolded it, and slapped it on the table. 

The line, [The old lady is already in my pocket], was circled in red ink. 

Amber turned ghost-white. 

“Beatrice, that’s not what it looks like, I was just- 

“Shut up.” 

Beatrice stood up. 

The weight of those two words made Amber seem to shrink in her chair. 

Everyone at the head table looked over. 

Guests at the nearby tables noticed the commotion. 

Thomas Sterling took a sip of his tea and spoke, unhurried. 

ľ 

“Is this the girl you brought to the gala last time? The one you swore up and down was your daughter-in-law?” 

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Beatrice’s face flushed a deep, shameful crimson. 

“Sterling, was misled.” 

“Misled is an understatement,” Sterling set his cup down. “You were their pawn, and you were too blind to even see the board.” 

Amber’s eyes filled with tears. 

Not the fake, wedding-day kind. 

This was genuine, paralyzing fear. 

She took a step back, hitting the chair behind her. 

Then, her eyes scanned the room. 

They found me. 

I was standing ten meters away, arms crossed over my chest. 

I didn’t smile. 

In that second, I saw three things on her face: hate, fear, and resentment. 

Especially the last one. 

Resentment. 

Which meant she wasn’t done yet. 

Pierce walked to the microphone. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, before we conclude, I have a personal statement. 

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