Chapter 301: Side Story, The Marquis (7)
film series, exploding it through a massive PPL campaign.
But—
What if that plan actually succeeded? Gerard would instantly beco “the new face of Marquis,” a symbol of a new era. That was a huge risk.
‘The chances of success are slim... but even a tiny possibility must be eliminated.’
Yet, to stop the product launch directly, he needed a convincing reason. That’s why this gala beca such an important link in the chain.
If Gerard were to make a critical mistake at such a public event—Desmond could emphasize that “his judgnt is severely flawed,” and use that to argue that Gerard shouldn’t be entrusted with any major marketing or public events again.
In short, it was the perfect chance to clip Gerard’s wings. Even if it didn’t go that far, the damage to Gerard’s public image alone would still be valuable.
“Not bad,” Desmond murmured.
He had made up his mind. He would set the trap. But there was one condition.
“If I’m going to ruin it... I’ll ruin it completely.”
***
Desmond’s trap was simple. Let Rachel invite a bunch of uninvited guests and ruin the party, while putting Gerard forward as the host—and making him take the bla. In the end, Gerard would have to stand at the center of the criticism for failing to manage the situation.
The problem was that things weren’t nearly chaotic enough yet.
‘This level of trouble... is far too mild.’
Rachel’s unwanted guests numbered barely ten. That might make a few VIPs frown for a mont, but nothing serious. So generous guests might even laugh it off, saying, “The young hostess is still learning.”
‘If there’s going to be an incident, it should be a disaster.’
Sothing so outrageous the VIPs would be left speechless. To do that, the solution was clear.
“Add more uninvited guests.”
Desmond acted imdiately. He bribed one of Rachel’s staff mbers to send gala invitations to everyone on her “potential guest” list—all two hundred of them. With only about fifty VIPs invited, there would now be two hundred extra guests—turning the elegant ballroom into utter chaos.
Desmond personally confird that the invitations had been sent.
“How’s the situation?” he asked.
“It’s bad, sir. Many of them already sent RSVPs. It’s too late to cancel—it would look like an even bigger mistake...”
The uninvited guests were all officially invited now. There was no way to take it back. The gala was guaranteed to descend into a ss.
Only then did Desmond go to see Gerard.
“You’ll be in charge of the event,” Desmond said evenly, as if granting him a special opportunity.
Gerard looked surprised for a mont. “?”
He must have already known—the party was dood from the start. Still, after a brief pause, he nodded.
“Yes, sir. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Desmond saw the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. A confident expression. Gerard seed to think of this as a test—that if he managed to salvage this disaster, he’d be acknowledged as the rightful successor.
‘Smart, but still immature,’ Desmond thought.
Because this truly was a test. And there was only one correct answer—refusal. Accepting the role in a rigged situation like this already disqualified him as a successor.
And if, by so miracle, Gerard did pull it off? That too could be twisted: “Taking such a reckless risk shows poor judgnt; he only succeeded by luck.” There would always be room to attack.
Besides, there was no chance Gerard would actually save the party. Desmond would make sure of that. He wasn’t careless. From the mont Gerard accepted the assignnt until the day of the gala, Desmond monitored his every move.
‘So he never thought to split the event, huh?’
There was one possible counterasure Desmond had been wary of. Two separate parties. A decoy event for the uninvited guests, and another private one for the VIPs—a dual arrangent. Desmond had even prepared counterasures just in case.
But Gerard took an entirely unexpected route. Not only did he expand the event, but he rebranded the entire gala as a festival for the citizens. He even adjusted the sponsorships, the title, and all distributed materials to fit that the.
‘So he’s planning to turn the scandal itself into the event’s ssage...’
But such a strategy could never work. Sure, the VIPs might nod politely at the “noble cause,” but once they experienced the chaos firsthand, their reactions would be very different.
‘There’s no way they actually want to mingle with the commoners.’
Gerard had completely misread their true feelings—and chosen the wrong strategy. Satisfied, Desmond finally allowed himself to relax.
And as ti passed—at last—the day of the gala arrived.
Though he couldn’t help but feel a faint unease that sothing unexpected might happen—fortunately, nothing of the sort occurred. About thirty minutes after the gala began, Desmond stepped inside the venue and smiled with deep satisfaction.
A disaster.
Originally, this was ant to be a quiet, elegant gathering of roughly fifty VIPs, exchanging polite conversation. They were all familiar faces—people who had t at countless similar events. At this point, they knew each other well enough that their chatter was limited to polite updates, thinly veiled boredom hiding behind smiles.
But now? Hundreds of people crowded the hall, and the atmosphere was utterly chaotic.
“Ah, good evening! Allow to introduce myself!”
Soone approached the VIPs, handing out business cards. His tone and manner were completely that of a marketplace vendor. It wasn’t a polite greeting—it was blatant solicitation. Naturally, the expressions of the VIPs stiffened. So stepped back to keep their distance; others tried to avoid eye contact altogether.
Then it happened. One of the guests, barely masking a sour expression, recognized Desmond and approached. With an overly refined tone, he smiled as he voiced his displeasure.
“This... feels rather different from the usual atmosphere. Quite unsettling, I must say.”
The aning was clear—he was not pleased. Desmond seized the opportunity.
“I’m as surprised as you are. I handed this event over to so of the ‘new blood,’ and well...”
“Wait—does that an a successor’s already been chosen?”
“No. I simply wanted to see how several potential successors would perform when given responsibility. But with results like this...”
“Ah.”
That single word sumd it all up. This chaotic, distasteful party was Gerard’s doing.
And Desmond’s subtle comnt implied sothing more: there were several possible heirs, and Gerard was only one of them. The aning sank in quickly. Everyone’s eyes said the sa thing—‘I see how it is.’
‘This will work to my advantage later,’ Desmond thought.
Once Gerard’s reputation was tarnished here tonight, if Desmond later entrusted an event to his own son and that one went smoothly, everyone would naturally conclude that his son was the better successor. If that future gala exuded class and dignity—everything this one lacked—then the choice would be obvious.
Half his goal was already achieved. Desmond smiled in satisfaction.
From then on, he simply observed, savoring the scene as the atmosphere grew increasingly disordered, noting every flicker of disappointnt and disdain that crossed the guests’ faces.
‘Not bad at all.’
He took a sip of champagne. As ti went on, the situation deteriorated further. So of the uninvited guests were already drunk, their voices rising. Others began pestering VIPs with business pitches. The dignified, restrained tradition of the Marquis Gala had completely collapsed.
Desmond calmly watched it all unfold, inwardly exultant. Gerard’s downfall was happening before his very eyes.
Eventually—
“I’m terribly sorry, but I must be going. So urgent matter at ho, I’m afraid.”
One of the guests even put on his coat and left. Seeing that, others began to exchange glances, silently debating whether they too should co up with excuses to leave.
‘If they all walk out together... that would be perfect,’ Desmond mused.
A mass exodus would be the ultimate humiliation for Gerard. He was just starting to hum in delight at the thought when—
“Chairman, excuse for a mont...”
His secretary approached cautiously. “You asked to be notified imdiately if anything unusual occurred, sir.”
“Unusual? I’m looking at it right now.”
The gala was already chaos enough. He was enjoying it, so there was no reason to be called away.
But the secretary lowered his voice. “Yes, well... the issue isn’t inside, sir. It’s outside the venue. I think you’d better see for yourself.”
“Outside?”
Desmond paused. He’d been so focused on the chaos inside that he hadn’t paid any attention to what was happening beyond the ballroom. But his secretary’s tone made it clear—sothing unexpected was unfolding outside.
So Desmond quietly stepped out into the hallway. And what t his eyes was a scene he could never have anticipated.
n in black suits. A silent but tight security periter.
“What... what is going on here?”
One of the guards replied without even turning. “Necessary security protocol, sir.”
“Do you even know who I am?”
The guard finally glanced his way, his expression indifferent—it didn’t matter who Desmond was. “Apologies, sir, but no one is allowed beyond this point.”
A complete dismissal. There was no other way to interpret it.
‘Who on earth could be arriving...?’
Just then, a black limousine rolled to a stop. Security radios crackled to life, and the car door opened.
And then—
The first person to step out was a middle-aged woman. A familiar face. Anyone who watched the news would recognize her instantly.
‘lody Tranton...?!’
She was the wife of the newly elected President Tranton—soon to be the First Lady of the United States.
‘Why on earth is she here...?’
But it didn’t end there. The next to erge was a young woman with sleek, neatly tied hair. Yvonne Tranton—the President’s daughter, famous for her beauty and public presence.
And finally, a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out. Don Tranton Jr.
Desmond froze on the spot. The entire First Family had arrived.
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