hapter 258 Who Owns Missy?
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The article was full of phrases like “next–gen fashion,” “a rising star in affordable luxury,” and “the first wave of digital–native beauty brands.”
Page after page hyped the brand’s rise.
When Halbert flipped to the final page, there was an interview with a senior exec at Missy. The quote claimed that although the brand had only been around for three months, it had already redefined the modern beauty scene.
Three months?
Halbert glanced across the room at Eliza, who was still sleeping soundly.
What exactly was her connection to Missy?
He pulled out his phone, ready to look into the company’s ownership. But no matter how deep he dug, the internet came up short. The identity of Missy’s founder remained a mystery.
Clearly, someone had intentionally hidden it.
Could it be Eliza?
Halbert shook his head.
Sure, she was clever and had made some quick cash during the flu outbreak. But building a whole beauty brand that fast? No way.
In the business world, that kind of meteoric rise was unheard of.
No one could just launch a red–hot brand right after securing funding–unless it had been planned a year or two in advance.
But a year or two ago, Eliza was still underage.
Thinking she had the skills to pull something like this off? I’m the last person who’d buy that.
Still, just to be sure, Halbert sent a message to his assistant.
Dig into whoever’s behind Missy. Also look into the connection between Soren and Eliza.
The next morning, Soren woke up in his hotel suite. It was already well past his usual 7 AM wake–up time.
He felt a mild headache–probably from last night’s drinking.
After a quick shower, his manager came in and placed a digital scale in front of him.
“Time to check your weight, Mr. Soren.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He stepped on casually.
But when the number jumped from his usual 130 pounds to 135, Soren blinked.
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Chapter 258 Who Owns Missy?
So did his manager.
Soren’s weight was usually stable. Maybe a pound or two of fluctuation, max.
But five pounds overnight?
“What exactly did you cat last night, Mr. Soren?”
Soren couldn’t even remember. He just knew that Late–Night Street Eats had been amazing.
The Zesty Crawfish, grilled oysters, giant squid, skewers… I’d gone all in.
Not to mention the beer. I’d had more than a few just to keep Eliza company.
His manager nearly lost it.
Heavy oil. Spicy carbs. Barley–based beer. A weight–gain nightmare.
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“Cancel all appearances for today. You need to detox and reset. From now on, no more junk food. Not even one bite.”
Soren actually felt a little disappointed.
That stuff had been really good.
Just as the assistant was preparing to clear the schedule, she suddenly gasped.
“Mr. Soren! We’ve got a problem! Someone posted a photo of you online!”
She shoved her phone toward him.
It had only been five minutes since the post went live, but it was already trending.
At this rate, every gossip site would be running with it. Today’s top trending topic was pretty much guaranteed.
“Top celeb caught on late–night date. Cuddling and kissing in the car.”
The manager’s face went pale.
Cuddling? Kissing?
The blurry photo showed Soren inside a car, leaning across the center console–barely visible next to a woman with long hair in the passenger seat.
But it wasn’t what it looked like.
Eliza’s seatbelt had gotten stuck. Soren had been helping her unbuckle it.
“Damn it. Who has this much free time?”
The post didn’t mention any names. But die–hard fans would recognize that profile in an instant.
It wouldn’t take long for people to ID him–and blow it way out of proportion.
“Don’t panic. They haven’t dropped your name. This smells like a shake–down. I bet whoever posted it is
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13:51 Tue, 8 Jul
Chapter 258 Who Owns Missy?
waiting for us to make contact and pay them off.”
The manager didn’t seem too worried.
We had money. And a blurry, context–free photo like this? It wasn’t worth more than a five–figure payoff at most.
Then Soren looked at the post again.
Instead of panicking, he saved the photo to his phone.
The manager stared, dumbfounded. “Mr. Soren… what are you doing?”
“It’s not a bad shot. Just a little too blurry.”
The manager thought he was hearing things.
Right then, the manager’s phone rang.
As expected, it was the paparazzi calling–to negotiate a price.
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