Chapter 525

Olivia's face brightened with maternal pride as Isabelle nodded enthusiastically. The tender moment shattered when a venomous voice sliced through the air. "Must be wonderful having generational wealth. Just waltz into Hollywood like you own it while the rest of us claw our way up from nothing."

The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees as Olivia's head snapped up. Her glacial stare pinned Miranda Graves, who'd been lurking behind Victoria Ellington. Miranda's words dripped with performative martyrdom, her delicate features arranged in practiced victimhood.

Olivia's jaw tightened. Every syllable was being broadcast to millions. Isabelle's innocent comment about wanting to act had been twisted into some nefarious plot. Miranda's implication was clear - the Sinclairs were buying their way into the industry at others' expense.

The live chat exploded with Miranda's sycophants:

"Queen Miranda speaking truth to power!"

"Another trust fund baby stealing opportunities from real talent."

"At least Miranda earned her success through actual skill."

"That poor child doesn't stand a chance with that mother."

"Notice how Miranda's the only one brave enough to call out privilege?"

"Everyone knows Miranda's the most authentic person in Hollywood."

The barrage of comments flashed across the massive studio screens. Isabelle's lower lip trembled as she absorbed the sudden hostility. Though young, she understood enough to know people were being cruel about her mother.

Charlotte Bennett moved closer, murmuring, "She's just a little girl. This is completely unnecessary."

Miranda stepped forward with theatrical solemnity. "Children's words reflect their upbringing. We must hold parents accountable." Her gaze slid to Olivia, heavy with manufactured concern. "Ms. Sinclair, I say this as someone who cares - filling a child's head with dreams of fame is irresponsible. There appear to be... concerning gaps in her moral education."

Isabelle's small hands balled into fists. Without warning, she gave Miranda's leg a light push. "Don't talk about Mommy like that!"

The contact was barely noticeable, yet Miranda collapsed like she'd been struck by a truck. She landed in an undignified heap, knees scraping the floor as she cried out in exaggerated pain. Crew members rushed forward in a flurry of manufactured concern.

The studio erupted into chaos.

Cameras zoomed in on Miranda's "injuries."

Producers whispered frantically into headsets.

And through it all, Olivia stood perfectly still, her expression unreadable as a winter lake.