The competitors erupted in fury.
"Bullshit! That was completely intentional!"
"A burst pipe? And it only ruined the Elyndor team's clothes?!"
"They might as well have said the uniforms grew legs and ran away!"
"Wearing this garbage to the opening ceremony is just begging to be a global laughingstock!"
"They misprinted the flag and still have the nerve to say they worked through the night for us?"
Everyone was seething.
But after the anger passed, a heavy sense of dread settled in their stomachs.
They knew all too well that the issue was much larger than just being angry.
If they showed up to the opening ceremony in street clothes instead of uniforms, the international media would have a field day, claiming the Elyndor team lacked basic discipline and unity.
The press would tear them apart for having no team spirit.
But if they wore these repulsive, ruined tracksuits, they would be playing right into Severia's hands, practically offering their faces to be slapped.
They were caught between a rock and a hard place.
Instinctively, Mr. Ashwell looked toward Serena.
Serena glanced at the box on the floor and said calmly, "Throw them all away."
Mr. Ashwell blinked. "Throw... throw them away?"
He stared at her, swallowing hard as an unbelievable thought crossed his mind. "Don't tell me... you prepared backup uniforms too?"
Serena gave him a brief look but didn't answer. Instead, she pulled out her phone and casually sent a message.
Ten minutes later.
A group of people marched briskly through the hotel entrance.
Leading them was Frederick Moore.
Behind him, a team of staff and bodyguards wheeled in two massive black cases.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Messing With Her? Are You Crazy!