Possessed No More: The True Star Returns to Claim Her Throne-Chapter 22: Waking Up

At the hotel, Chloe Sterling snuck out to buy a cup of milk tea, only to be caught red-handed by Ms. Shaw. Not only was the milk tea confiscated, but Ms. Shaw also made her stand facing the wall as punishment. She had to balance two books on her head, and if one fell, her punishment would be extended by half an hour.

"Ms. Shaw, I’m begging you! I have to film tomorrow!"

Chloe Sterling didn’t even dare to raise her voice as she pleaded, afraid the books on her head would fall.

Ms. Shaw’s face was stern. "No. You snuck out for a snack this morning, and you have the nerve to sneak out for milk tea this afternoon. Do you really want to gain five pounds? Say another word, and I’ll send you to the gym for a three-hour workout."

Chloe Sterling was so scared she immediately shut her mouth, but the look on her face was one of pure grievance.

Mabel Shaw couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She sidled up to her aunt and whispered, "Auntie, I heard Riley Perry has some kind of weight loss pill. Her little assistant is taking it. No dieting, no exercise, and she’s already lost six pounds in a few days. Why don’t we just buy some for Chloe?

She can’t eat this, can’t eat that, day in and day out. Who wouldn’t want to sneak a snack?"

Ms. Shaw immediately shot her niece a glare. "When have you ever seen a weight loss pill that works without dieting or exercise? It’s all a scam! If you don’t keep a better eye on Chloe from now on, I’ll dock your pay!"

Mabel Shaw deflated. She spread her hands helplessly in Chloe Sterling’s direction. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help, but her hands were tied.

Chloe Sterling’s eyes, however, lit up. ’Weight loss pills! That’s exactly what I need right now. If Riley Perry really has a pill that can make the number on the scale go down, does that mean I’ll be able to eat whatever I want from now on?’

So that night, after Ms. Shaw had gone back to her room, Chloe snuck over to Riley Perry’s room.

The moment the door opened, Chloe Sterling launched herself inside. "Riley Perry! You’re holding out on me! You have weight loss pills, why wouldn’t you give me any?

It’s an emergency! Ms. Shaw punished me for sneaking food today, and if I’ve gained more than three pounds by tomorrow morning, she’s going to make me go to the gym every single day!"

Riley Perry was caught off guard by the younger girl’s lunge, and she quickly helped her steady herself. "How did you know I had weight loss pills?"

Once she was steady on her feet, Chloe Sterling realized Riley Perry seemed to be working, as her laptop was open with a cup of tea beside it.

"Your Rhona told Mabel Shaw. Am I interrupting you?"

Riley Perry shook her head. "You’re not." She silently walked over to her suitcase, pulled out a small bottle, and offered it. But just as Chloe was about to take it, Riley pulled her hand back. "Wait, this is too much. I’ll pour some out. You’re not fat; you only need to lose a few pounds. If you take this whole bottle, you might become skinny as a rail."

Chloe Sterling quickly snatched the bottle. "No, no, no! Give them all to me! If I get too skinny, can’t I just eat to gain the weight back?"

Saying this, she pulled out her phone and insisted on transferring money to Riley. Riley stopped her. "You don’t even know if they work yet, why are you paying me? Just try them first."

"Fine, I won’t transfer the money now. But if I really do lose weight, girl, I’ll definitely send you a huge red envelope!"

With that, she opened the cap, tipped out a small pill, and tossed it into her mouth. Riley quickly grabbed a clean glass and poured her some warm water.

...

At the hospital, after being on an IV drip all day, Justin Locke finally woke up. The men who had beaten him last night truly hadn’t held back. His left arm was broken, and his thigh required seven stitches. Fortunately, there was no damage to the bone or tendons. The swelling around his eyes had also subsided enough for him to open them a crack, at least enough to make out people’s faces. His body was covered in countless bruises.

The first thing he did upon waking was to anxiously ask the nurse, "Where’s the person who brought me in last night?"

"You mean the young lady? She left after she finished your admission paperwork and hired a caregiver for you."

"Did she leave a message?"

The nurse replied, "I’m not sure. You should probably ask your caregiver."

The caregiver had been watching the IV bag for a long time, and once it was finally empty, he had stepped out to use the restroom.

When he returned, Justin Locke immediately grabbed him. "The young lady who hired you to take care of me—did she leave any message or contact information?"

The caregiver said, "Don’t worry, sir. I happen to know her. I can find her even without a phone number."

"Who... is she?"

"She’s that actress from the TV dramas. The campus goddess, Yvonne Lynch."

Justin Locke was speechless... ’As the number one paparazzi in the entertainment industry, I know every celebrity who’s ever had even a flicker of fame, no matter how minor. The campus goddess, Yvonne Lynch... isn’t that just Riley Perry?’

’Why was he so familiar with her?’

’After all, he’d once been paid to run a smear campaign against her.’

And yet, the very person he had been paid to smear was the one who had saved his life.

’But something wasn’t right. He remembered Riley Perry saying she had called the police, so why hadn’t the caregiver mentioned anything about it?’

"Have any police officers been here since I arrived at the hospital?"

The caregiver shook his head.

Justin Locke understood almost instantly. The situation last night had been dangerous; Riley Perry probably hadn’t had time to call the police. She was just bluffing.

He secretly breathed a sigh of relief. His attackers, being would-be murderers, would have been afraid of the police, but for someone in his line of work, a trip to the station wasn’t a good thing either.

He was actually relieved Riley hadn’t called the police, and his gratitude toward her deepened.

"Could you do me a favor? Go to my car and bring up my phone and charger."

He’d spotted his car keys on the bedside table right after he woke up. Riley Perry must have found his car and used it to bring him here.

He had left his phone in the car last night when he went to snap photos of that A-list actress; otherwise, it would have been smashed to pieces just like his camera.

The caregiver quickly returned with the phone, and Justin Locke made a call. "I want all the video footage from the underground garage of The Sovereign Hotel between eleven and twelve p.m. last night."

The person on the other end replied, "I’ll need fifteen minutes."

After the call ended, the caregiver tactfully went to get Justin Locke some dinner.

Fifteen minutes later, the video file arrived on Justin Locke’s phone.

The men who had attacked him had deliberately chosen a surveillance blind spot, so the assault itself wasn’t captured. However, the footage clearly showed Riley Perry coming out of the elevator and later leaving.

The scene where Riley carried him—a grown man—to the car in a princess carry made Justin Locke’s ears burn with embarrassment. He was a 185-centimeter-tall man, after all. Even if he was a bit thin, he still weighed over 165 pounds. To be carried by a petite, cute girl like that... The feeling was...

Despite his embarrassment, he watched that part of the video over and over again. ’How come I never noticed how beautiful Riley Perry was before?’

’Was it just because she’d saved his sorry hide that he was suddenly seeing her through rose-colored glasses?’

’As for that Mr. Fulton who had dared to touch him... Heh. Did he really think Justin Locke was a pushover?’

Last night, as he was being captured, he had made a promise to himself: ’If you have the guts, kill me in one go. But if you leave me with even a single breath, I’ll send that bastard Fulton to hell.’

Opening a group chat for gossip bloggers, Justin Locke sent out a message: "I’ve got dirt on a Starmaker Entertainment artist. Who wants it? This time, I’m only asking for a forty-percent cut."

A flood of replies instantly popped up. "Mr. Locke, send it over! We’ll take it even at the usual rate—sixty percent for you!"

Below that, messages from people calling dibs flooded the chat.