The next morning, Belle presented a high-end deepfake to Zhenting, her voice dripping with concern. "Darling, I was so worried about our little one’s safety with the storm last night. I hired a forensic team to reconstruct the Hyatt security footage, just to ensure everything was safe."
Zhenting took the tablet, his face unreadable. Assistant Qin stood frozen by the door, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The air in the office, usually thick with the scent of sandalwood and rain, felt stagnant, charged with unspoken accusations and the cloying sweetness of Belle’s expensive French perfume.
The deepfake showed a blurred figure, ostensibly 'Belle,' entering Suite 8808. Then, another figure, clearly 'Xia,' slipping into Room 808, the room Belle had originally planned for Xia to sleep at and get caught in.
Zhenting watched, his jaw tightening with each passing second. He was devastated—not because he hated Xia, but because the 'truth' meant he had been unfaithful to his savior (Belle) by loving Xia. His mind struggled to reconcile the pure, innocent jasmine scent with the image on the screen.
He had been tricked, manipulated. But not by Belle, not in his mind. He felt tricked by his own heart, which stubbornly clung to a fantasy, a scent, a memory that now seemed like a cruel illusion. A face-slapping moment, if he ever saw one.
When the footage ended, Zhenting didn't erupt in anger. He didn’t scream or accuse. Instead, a profound sadness settled over him, a quiet devastation that was far more terrifying than any rage. He handed the tablet back to Belle, his eyes devoid of their usual steel.