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Vince's jaw tightened slightly when he saw not just Sandro, but all three women with him as well. "Come in," Vince said, voice clipped. "All of you." they did, closing the door behind them, and the room fell silent.
Vince leaned forward. "Alright, kid," he said finally. "How do you want to do this?"
Sandro tilted his head slightly. "Do what?"
Vince gestured vaguely. "Your news. It's everywhere. Mainstream. International. This company's brand image—"
He stopped mid sentence.
Because Sandro laughed.
Not a loud laugh.
Not a mocking gon either.
It's just a short, genuine chuckle.
Every single person in the room froze.
Sandro shook his head once and looked straight at Vince. "Is that even important now, boss?"
Vince's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Sandro took a step forward, unbothered by the power imbalance in the room. "You're worried about the PG image you are building?"
He gestured around casually. "We curse without censors again on live TV now. Blood's back on some matches. Matches are more brutal. The storylines are more darker, more intense, and more adult. Hell, I said 'damn' on national television and you let it slide, and then everyone else followed."
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
Sandro continued, voice calm but unyielding. "So let's be honest. Are we still even PG aymore? Or are we pretending because it sounds safer on paper?"
The room was dead silent.
Paul Heyman smiled faintly, as if enjoying the show.
Vince leaned back slowly, fingers steepled. "That's different."
"How, boss?" Sandro asked immediately. "Because this isn't scripted like how we created our story a decided who win or not?"
Stephanie inhaled quietly but didn't interrupt.
Sandro pressed on. "What's happening right now isn't a storyline. It's my life. And yeah, it's messy. It's complicated. But it's also legal, consensual, and most importantly, private."
Kevin Dunn cleared his throat. "Sponsors—"
Sandro turned his head slightly. "They will adjust after some complainingd. Just like they always do when money's involved. Hell, they will complain but only that since the atebrions will be massive."
That earned a low chuckle from Hayes.
Pat Patterson meanwhile raised an eyebrow. "Kid's not wrong."
Vince held up a hand. "Enough."
He looked directly at Sandro. "I don't care what you do in your personal life. What I care about is the perception it made."
"And whatever we do, the perception is already set," Sandro replied. "The only thing left is how we respond."
Heyman leaned forward then, finally speaking. "He's correct. Silence would look like shame. Denial would look like lying. The statement was the right move."
Vince shot him a look. "You advised that?"
Heyman shrugged. "I would have."
Vince exhaled slowly through his nose, clearly displeased but thinking. "You realize this will follow you and by extension the company."
Sandro nodded. "Of course. Everything does."
Triple H finally spoke. "Here's the reality," he said evenly. "This doesn't break company policy. And it doesn't violate contracts. It does create noise."
Stephanie added, "And noise can be managed."
Vince drummed his fingers on the table. "You're not apologizing then."
"No," Sandro said. "I'm not. I'm not ding anything wrngeven if many people sill see it in a bad light."
"And you're pressing charges."
"Yes."
Vince studied him for a long moment.
Then, unexpectedly, he smirked faintly. "You really don't back down."
Sandro met his gaze as he shrugged. "Neither do you boss."
Another silence.
Then Vince waved a hand dismissively. "Fine. Handle it your way. But if this becomes a distraction—"
"It won't," Sandro said. "Because I won't let it."
Vince looked at the girls for the first time directly. "You three understand what comes with this business."
AJ spoke up, voice steady. "We've been in it long enough."
Nikki nodded. "We know."
Alexa smiled slightly. "We chose this."
That seemed to satisfy him, at least partially.
"Alright," Vince said gruffly. " The meeting's over. Get ready for the show."
Sandro paused at the door just as Vince's gruff dismissal hung in the air.
"Boss," Sandro said calmly, but loud enough that everyone heard it. "Wait a moment."
Vince turned back, already annoyed, but something in Sandro's tone stopped him from snapping. "What now?"
"This," Sandro gestured vaguely, "is already everywhere. Mainstream. Entertainment. Social media. Whether we like it or not, people are watching who don't usually watch wrestling. And they're not watching for five-star matches. They're watching for spectacle. Drama. Reality bleeding into fiction."
Heyman's smile widened almost imperceptibly.
Sandro continued, "So let's give it to them. Hollywood level. A little telenovela. Just enough truth to hook them, just enough chaos to make them stay. One that jumps on the attention my relationship's already pulled in. Immediately. Tonight."
That did it.
Everyone froze.
No one reached for their phone. No one shuffled papers. Even Kevin Dunn stopped adjusting imaginary camera angles in his head.
Sandro continued, unbothered by the silence. "You want perception control? I'll give you engagement. You want eyes? I'll bring in mainstream eyes that don't normally watch wrestling. Hollywood curiosity. A bit of telenovela drama. Not fake, not forced, just framed."
Vince's expression shifted. The irritation drained away, replaced by something dangerous.
Interest.
"Oh really," Vince said slowly. "You've got my attention now, kid. What idea?"
Sandro smiled.
Not cocky. Not smug.
Confident.
"The kind of idea," he said evenly, "that only the people in this room will know about… until RAW goes live tonight."
Paul Heyman's eyebrows lifted. Triple H leaned back in his chair. Stephanie narrowed her eyes, already thinking three steps ahead. The women exchanged quick glances, curious but trusting.
Vince studied Sandro for a long second, then nodded once. "Alright," he said. "Let's hear it."
Sandro spoke quietly after that. No grand gestures. No raised voice. Just controlled, deliberate words.
As he laid it out, expressions changed around the room.
Shock.
Amusement.
Concern.
And then… excitement.
Heyman's grin slowly widened, the kind he only wore when chaos was about to be profitable.
When Sandro finished, the room stayed silent for several seconds.
Then Vince leaned back and laughed under his breath.
"You son of a bitch," Vince muttered. "That's insane."
"And it works," Sandro replied.
Vince nodded slowly. "It does."
Triple H exhaled. "It's risky."
"So is everything worth watching," Sandro said.
Stephanie tilted her head. "If we do this, there's no half measure."
Sandro met her gaze. "Wouldn't insult the audience like that."
Vince stood up. "Alright," he said decisively. "Do it. Tonight."
Sandro nodded once. "Then I'll see you out there."
He turned and walked out, the women falling into step beside him, Heyman lingering just long enough to catch Vince's eye and give him a knowing look.
Several hours later, the Greensboro Coliseum was shaking.
Signs littered the crowd.
"UNDISPUTED SYSTEM" "FULL GOLD" "ZIGGLER STOLE IT" "SANDRO WAS RIGHT" "LET THEM LIVE" "WHO LEAKED THE PHOTOS?"
The opening pyro detonated like thunder, flames erupting across the stage as Monday Night RAW went live. The crowd roared, a mixture of excitement, tension, and raw curiosity crackling through the building.
"BOOM!"
The final burst of pyro thundered as the camera panned across the packed arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Monday Night RAW!" Michael Cole shouted over the noise.
"And are we ever live tonight!" Jerry Lawler added. "Greensboro, North Carolina, you are on fire!"
Cole nodded, barely able to hear himself. "We are live around the world, and King, there's a lot to talk about tonight."
Lawler hesitated. "Yeah… that's putting it lightly."
Cole sighed. "Well, this is awkward, but I think we should address the elephant in the room."
The crowd buzzed.
"As many of you know," Cole continued carefully, "this past Wednesday, Dolph Ziggler shocked the world by stealing the NXT Championship. That means every single member of the Undisputed System now holds gold."
Lawler sighed. "And that alone would be enough to dominate headlines."
The crowd reacted loudly, a mix of cheers and boos.
Cole hesitated, then continued carefully. "But there's also been… a lot of attention surrounding events that occurred over the weekend."
Lawler nodded. "What happened Sunday spread everywhere. Social media, mainstream news, places that don't usually talk about WWE."
Cole straightened. "Now, WWE does not comment on the private lives of its Superstars. We respect their privacy, and we hope fans and the public do the same."
The crowd murmured.
"And even if that Superstar happens to be Sandro Zhang," Cole finished.
As if on cue, the RAW logo vanished.
The arena lights dimmed slightly.
The titantron flickered to life.
"Wait a minute…" Cole said.
A pre taped segment appeared.
The crowd gasped.
Backstage footage filled the screen, raw, handheld, unpolished.
Inside the room stood Sandro Zhang, pacing like a caged animal. His WWE and United States Championships rested on a bench behind him. Paul Heyman stood close, whispering in his ear. Around them were the Undisputed System members, Drew McIntyre, Wade Barrett, Big E, Ryback, Kofi Kingston, Chris Jericho, watching intently.
Alexa Bliss stood close to Sandro, concern written across her face.
And to everyone's shock—
AJ Lee was there.
So was Nikki Bella.
The arena exploded with noise.
"What the hell—?" Lawler blurted out.
Sandro stopped pacing and looked straight into the camera, anger burning behind his eyes.
"You see this?" Sandro snapped. "You see this crap everywhere?"
"Tell me how," he snarled, running a hand through his hair, anger raw and visible. "Tell me how those photos get taken unless someone wants them taken."
Heyman nodded gravely. "You're too protected. Too powerful. Nobody just wanders backstage with a camera."
Jericho folded his arms. "Someone wanted this out."
"And I know who," Sandro said sharply.
Alexa frowned. "Sandro—"
"No," he cut in. "I'm done pretending this is coincidence."
Drew spoke up. "You think it was him."
"I know it was," Sandro replied.
AJ crossed her arms. "You're saying Vince—?"
"Who else?" Sandro shot back. "You don't get a camera into backstage unless someone lets you. Someone high up."
Lawler shot out of his chair. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!"
Heyman nodded eagerly. "Sabotage. Classic."
"They can't beat us in the ring," Sandro continued, voice rising. "So they try to rot us from the outside. Scandal. Division. Make us implode."
Big E stood up. "Ain't happening."
"Exactly," Sandro said. "But that doesn't mean I'm letting it slide."
He turned toward the locker room door.
"I'm going to talk to him," Sandro said coldly. "Alone."
The feed followed him as he stormed down the hallway, security scrambling to keep up. He reached Vince's office and didn't knock.
He kicked the door open.
Inside, Vince McMahon shot to his feet.
"What the hell is—"
Sandro pointed at him. "I never thought you'd dare do something like that."
Vince blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"There's a code here," Sandro snapped. "We fight with words. With matches. We don't pull dirty tricks with people's private lives."
Vince's face hardened. "You accusing me of something, kid?"
"The photos," Sandro said. "Don't play dumb."
Vince's eyebrows shot up. "You think I did that?"
"Who else could?" Sandro fired back. "My group's too strong. You can't touch us on screen. So you try to break us off screen."
Vince shook his head. "You've lost your damn mind."
"You'd let paparazzi backstage if you wanted them there," Sandro said. "You've done crazier things than this."
Vince slammed a hand on his desk. "I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it."
Sandro laughed softly.
"That's not believable," he said. "Not from you."
He stepped closer, voice dropping. "I'll take the bad press. That's part of the game. But if anyone outside this business gets hurt because of it…"
He leaned in, eyes locked with Vince's.
"Don't cross that line," Sandro warned. "Because if you do, I won't be responsible for what happens next."
He straightened, turned, and walked out.
The camera lingered on Vince's face.
Furious.
Shaken.
Or maybe… caught.
The feed cut back to the arena as the crowd erupted, chanting Sandro's name, debating wildly, unsure who to believe.
"Good God," Lawler said. "Did you hear that?"
Cole was stunned. "Did we just witness Sandro Zhang accuse The Chairman of WWE, Vince McMahon, to be the one orchestrating the leak?!"
Lawler shouted, "That's a massive allegation!"
Cole shook his head. "And knowing Vince's history… who knows what to believe?"
The crowd buzzed with energy, speculation running wild. And somewhere backstage, Vince McMahon sat alone in his office, fists clenched, jaw tight, either a man wrongfully accused… or a mastermind watching his plan unfold exactly as intended.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida, USA
Brand: WWE - RAW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Styles
Faction: The Undisputed System
Championships History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA X Division Champion, 1x WWE United States Champion, & 1x WWE Champion
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner, 1x Mr. Money In The Bank, Youngest WWE Champion, & PWI Top 500 (No.1)
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0