"Yeah, exactly—Mr. Cole means that you brought a friend with you? Where are they? Quickly, please bring them on stage!" the host exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement.
At that moment, many of the girls in the auditorium were murmuring to themselves, clearly pouty and disappointed. They had assumed Grayson was single; nobody expected he'd have a companion to bring up on stage. In a setting like this, the kind of "friend" someone brings is hardly a mystery.
Still, people scanned the room, sizing each other up, eager to see who Grayson's "friend" might be. Without a word, Grayson simply stood near the front of the stage, gazing past the rows of onlookers directly at Jasmine. Naturally, everyone else followed his line of sight and quickly zeroed in on Jasmine's figure.
It was the first time so many people had stared at her, and she felt painfully self-conscious and nervous. Yet deep inside, her heart raced with joy. Right now, Grayson was standing on stage looking straight at her, and the crowd was instinctively parting to clear a path between them. In that instant, Jasmine felt as though she and Grayson were a newlywed couple being celebrated by everyone around them. A sweet warmth flooded through her, and despite her pounding heart, she no longer hesitated. She strode briskly to Grayson's side.
As soon as Grayson reached out and took Jasmine's hand, a ripple of delighted applause rose up from the audience.
"Come on, you two—please step into the center," the host called.
The center spot on the stage belonged, of course, to Grayson—no, more precisely, it was now reserved for both Grayson and Jasmine together.
"Umm, hey, you," the host said, pointing at Sylvia, "could you scoot a little to the side?"
Sylvia—who had just been standing squarely in the middle of the stage—glared. She had originally moved over and given up one spot when Grayson arrived, but now with Jasmine joining him, a single open space was obviously insufficient. Internally, Sylvia was torn. Being in the center increased one's visibility, and yes, her exposure had gone up, but now she was simply a supporting player for Jasmine. And to make matters worse, she had to give up that central position altogether. For someone who took pride in looking down on Jasmine, this was a bitter pill to swallow. She stood her ground.
"Excuse me," the host said with a slight frown, "could you please move?"
Sylvia didn't budge.
Everyone on stage was waiting, and the host, seeing Sylvia's sullen expression and outright refusal to cooperate, gave her a discreet shove, pushing her aside. Only then did he turn back to Jasmine with a radiant smile and usher her into the center.
Sylvia was livid, but she dared not react. Not with Jasmine and Grayson basking in the crowd's cheers at the moment—she wouldn't want to draw any more attention to herself.
The photographer clicked the final shot, then people began filing off the stage in an orderly line.
"Let's go," Grayson whispered to Jasmine as they started to descend.
"Wait just a second, please," the host interjected, beaming at the couple. "Don't rush off yet. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who want to learn more about you two. How about a quick interview?"
"How does that sound, everyone?" the host bellowed.
"Sure!"
"Interview—yes!"
The crowd erupted in enthusiastic shouts. Certain girls, driven by their natural curiosity, especially wanted to hear Grayson speak.
"All right, Grayson," the host said, handing him the microphone. "Why did you donate such a large sum—so much money—yet refuse to reveal your name?"
"Actually, it's quite simple," Grayson replied without hesitation as he accepted the mic. "When I donate, my goal is solely to help people. Once your donation makes an impact, the purpose is fulfilled. Whether or not you leave your name doesn't really matter. I donate so others can lead better lives, not for any recognition."
"Excellent—well said!" the host applauded, then encouraged the audience to join in. Rounds of applause and cheers followed.
"But there are some who donate with ulterior motives—to boost their own image," Grayson continued. "While I don't condemn that, I certainly don't support it. Worse yet are the people who donate and then go around bragging about it, wanting the entire world to know. That, to me, flies in the face of the true spirit of giving."
"Absolutely true!"
Heads nodded in agreement. Standing down in the audience, Sylvia felt her face flush with embarrassment. It was obvious that Grayson was speaking directly about her.
"By the way, Mr. Cole," the host said, leaning in, "I'm sure everyone here is curious about one thing: Why are you wearing such shabby clothes while your girlfriend is dressed so elegantly?"
"Also quite simple," Grayson replied with a calm smile. "I don't really care about how I dress—I'll wear anything. But I care about her, so I like to buy her nice things. It's the same as caring about children in poverty—I donate money to help them. There's no contradiction between those two."
"Well said!" the host praised. "Now, Mr. Cole, have you ever faced any issues because of your attire?"
"Actually, yes. Just before coming up here, someone mocked my girlfriend, saying she was materialistic and that she could only snag someone like me—some broke nobody—because no real wealthy heir would want her. Oh, that same person gave a little money, then tried to belittle us, claiming she was so charitable…"
Clearly, Grayson was referring to Sylvia. He wasn't typically one to hold grudges, but he couldn't let Sylvia's insults toward Jasmine go unchecked. So he laid it all out there, right on stage.
Sylvia and Tanner, standing below, heard it and turned beet-red. Everything Sylvia had said to Jasmine now felt like it was being thrown right back in her face.
"Unbelievable—what kind of miserable jerk says something like that?" someone standing near Sylvia shouted, furious.
"Exactly! People like that donate a little and then act like they own the place. If Mr. Cole can point them out, we should give the money back and kick them out. What a joke!"
"Filth like that doesn't deserve to be here!"
Voices of condemnation swirled around Sylvia from every direction. She felt a mix of shame, indignation, and anger, but dared not say a word.
"Come on, forget about people like that," the host quickly soothed Grayson. "I can see you're a truly humble heir, and Miss Jasmine is a lovely young lady. You two make a wonderful pair—wishing you both a lifetime of happiness."
Thunderous applause rolled through the auditorium. Grayson and Jasmine, holding hands, prepared to step off the stage.
But just then, a voice rang out: "He's nothing but a total loser—what heir is he?"
Everyone turned in unison, stunned. On top of one of the round tables stood a girl, glaring at Grayson.
"Heh heh, Grayson," she jeered, "if you really were some trust-fund kid, pigs would be flying by now!"
Grayson frowned when he recognized her—Sienna. He couldn't believe she was here too. Of course she had been present when someone anonymously donated eighty thousand; she'd suspected it was Grayson all along. At the time, she'd thought there was no way he would show up at an event like this—who did he think he was? But then she saw the crowd cheering as he walked onstage. And when Jasmine joined him, hand in hand, the audience applauded their pairing.
A surge of jealousy and something she couldn't quite name churned in Sienna's chest. Worse yet, the murmurs around her praised Grayson as a modest heir, and he had done nothing to deny it. Sienna sneered inside. Who knew Grayson's true background better than she did? A slacker who'd won a cash prize, gotten hyped by his own delusions, and impulsively donated eighty thousand—only to regret it afterward. Now everyone thought him some humble, generous son of a wealthy family? Pathetic!
"I have to expose him!" Sienna declared. She stormed onto the stage, snatched the microphone from the host's hand, and pointed straight at Grayson. "You're all being tricked! This guy isn't some heir—he's a broke bum. He just won a small lottery prize—around a hundred thousand—and in a moment of foolishness, he donated eighty thousand! He regretted it right after, but it was already too late!"
She jabbed a finger at Jasmine. "And these clothes she's wearing? They're bought with the rest of that lottery money. After winning, he spent most of it on partying and chasing girls—so now he's got no money left for himself. This is a person who craves vanity—there's no denying it!"
She lifted her voice louder. "I'm telling you, he doesn't have a single penny left! Yes, he donated eighty thousand—that's not up for debate. But he isn't a wealthy heir, and you all deserve to know the truth!"
The hall erupted.
"Damn, I really thought he was some stealthy trust-fund kid—turns out he's just a lottery winner showing off. Lame."
"Told ya, rich kids, no matter how quiet, wouldn't dress like that."
"So he blew all his winnings on booze and women? That's why he couldn't afford decent clothes? Ha!"
"What a total loser."
"I thought he was my dream guy." a girl muttered dejectedly.
Watching the crowd shift its attitudes so quickly, Sienna grinned with satisfaction. Heh, Grayson—let's see how you handle this!
"Um, may I say something?" Grayson finally spoke, picking the mic back up. He scanned the thousand plus faces in front of him; many were glancing at him with contempt.
"Hmph, go ahead—let's see what you'll say," they all thought.
Grayson paused for a moment, then spoke with quiet conviction: "I've decided to donate another five hundred thousand to the children in impoverished areas."
A hush fell over the hall. Silence, respect, admiration—maybe even a bit of awe—washed over the audience as they absorbed his words. By choosing to give half a million more, Grayson proved that his heart was as genuine as ever.
Silence stretched for a few seconds, then applause broke out unevenly at first, then swelled into a warm, appreciative standing ovation. Those who had doubted him found themselves reconsidering; those who had admired him felt their respect deepen. Even Sienna, standing at the edge of the stage, blinked incredulously.