Ghost Exorciser: The Oust Fake Heiress Strikes-Chapter 391: Re-Match

As always. A faint, smug smile appeared on her lips as she glanced toward Yale...

Only to freeze. He was already done. A strange feeling crept into her chest. ’...What?’

For a brief moment, unease flickered within her. But she suppressed it immediately. ’It doesn’t matter.’

Confidently, she presented her design. Yale did the same.

The room fell silent. A long... Heavy silence. Everyone stared.

Then... One of the judges spoke. "How strange..."

His voice carried a hint of surprise.

"Cassandra’s design is good," he admitted slowly, "but... Yale’s... looks better."

A ripple of agreement spread through the room. Heads nodded. Murmurs rose.

Cassandra’s expression stiffened. A frown formed on her face. ’Better?’

How could that be? She turned her head, her gaze locking onto Yale’s design.

And then... Her eyes widened. It was... Stunning. Sleek. Innovative.

Far superior to what she had created. Her fingers tightened slightly.

For a moment, she inhaled deeply, forcing herself to remain calm.

’So this is his trump card...’

A faint smile returned to her lips. ’Good... he’s smarter than I thought.’

But that didn’t matter. Not really. She immediately tried to reconnect. "Link me to him."

The entity responded. "Cooldown period still active."

Her expression froze. Regret flashed through her eyes. ’Damn it...’

If she hadn’t disconnected earlier... She would have won. She clenched her jaw. ’How did he...?’

She couldn’t understand it. How did Yale suddenly become this good? How did he stay ahead of her?

What she didn’t know... Was that this had never been Yale’s plan alone.

It was Lana. She had orchestrated everything.

The twenty-four-hour cooldown... She had learned that the hard way in her past life.

Back then, Cassandra had simply switched targets, rendering Lana’s efforts useless.

But this time... Things were different.

Lana had come prepared. She had knowledge. From the future.

She had provided Yale with designs, blueprints that, while not entirely practical, were visually advanced, complex, and striking.

Enough... To make him appear superior.

Enough... To ensure Cassandra couldn’t keep up.

And this time... There was no escape for her.

Cassandra parted her lips as if to speak, when Yale cut in calmly, "If you’re still not satisfied, we can have another match."

Hearing those words, Cassandra’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a cold glint flashing within them, yet she did not agree immediately.

’He’s too confident... there’s definitely something he’s hiding,’ she thought.

She was certain of one thing, Yale must have a trump card up his sleeve.

The chances were high that he had already planned everything in advance.

Perhaps he even had a rough understanding of her system... but the real problem gnawed at her mind like a persistent itch... how did he know about her system’s cooldown time?

A faint smile curved on her lips as she lifted her hand, flexing her fingers slightly as if testing the ache.

"My hands are hurting," she said softly, her tone almost casual. "Let’s postpone the competition to tomorrow."

At her words, Yale lowered his gaze, his expression shadowed.

For a brief moment, it seemed as though he was about to refuse, but before he could speak, Cassandra let out a quiet sigh, her shoulders drooping just enough to appear exhausted.

"For the past two days, I’ve been overwhelmed with interviews and multiple design competitions," she continued, her voice laced with a hint of fatigue.

"I didn’t even get time to properly rest, which is why my design today turned out... subpar."

The moment those words left her mouth, one of the judges, Tony, stiffened.

He had envisioned that exact same design in his mind earlier, and for a fleeting second, it felt as though Cassandra was indirectly calling his design subpar.

Cassandra continued smoothly, "So we can’t proceed today. Let’s do it tomorrow."

Yale remained silent for a moment before giving a small nod.

A soft smile bloomed on Cassandra’s face.

’He really is stupid,’ she thought with quiet satisfaction.

By tomorrow, her cooldown would be completely gone, and when that happened... she would latch onto Yale without giving him even a sliver of chance to escape.

With that thought, she turned and left the venue.

Meanwhile, the crowd stood stunned, a murmur slowly rippling through them like a restless tide.

Earlier, they had thought Cassandra to be innocent, even sympathizing with her during her direct confrontation with Yale.

But now... something felt off.

A few people exchanged uncertain glances before one of them hesitantly muttered,

"For some reason... I feel like Cassandra might have been copying Yale all along."

The moment those words were spoken, several heads snapped toward him, their gazes sharp enough to pierce through skin.

The man simply shrugged, raising his hands slightly.

"That’s just how it feels," he said, though he wisely chose not to continue further.

On the other hand, Yale wasted no time and returned straight to his apartment.

He recalled the email he had received earlier: as long as he completed one round, there was a high chance Cassandra would back out.

He didn’t need to argue with her at all.

Thinking about it now, he couldn’t help but feel that the sender of that email was incredibly perceptive.

He opened his inbox, the soft glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes, and sure enough, there was another message waiting.

This time, the email praised him for doing a good job and stated that his next mission would be even simpler.

Yale’s fingers hovered for a brief second before clicking it open.

As he read the details, his eyes widened slightly in surprise, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly.

Yet, after a moment of silence, he exhaled slowly and nodded to himself. In the end, he agreed.

The next day, after Cassandra had already bound herself to Yale’s mind, she arrived at the venue early.

However, Yale was nowhere to be seen.

A flicker of unease passed through her eyes.

’Where is he?’ she wondered, her brows knitting together slightly.

Time passed, each second stretching uncomfortably, until finally... Yale walked in.

The moment he entered, the entire room fell silent, and countless pairs of eyes turned toward him, mouths slightly agape.

His hand... was covered in plaster.