Chapter 126
Evelyn Sinclair was the last to arrive. Her sharp gaze swept across the room, confirming everyone’s presence with a satisfied nod.
Only Isabelle Laurent remained actively engaged with Team A-List, while Marcus Donovan focused on handling Julian Blackwood’s international affairs.
Unfamiliar with Team A-List’s dynamics, Isabelle frowned at Evelyn’s barely contained excitement. Even Julian and Genevieve’s demeanors had shifted the moment Evelyn walked in—their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
What just changed? They didn’t even want to come earlier. Why do I feel like something terrible is about to happen?
Evelyn noticed the staff members behind Preston Whitmore and Donovan Sharpe exchanging knowing smirks, their eyes darting between the two men and Rebecca.
Preston and Donovan remained oblivious.
Rebecca stood nearby, unfazed by the hostile glares. Her serene smile never wavered, as though she hadn’t just endured vicious rumors. Yet, her gaze held a quiet intensity when she glanced at Isabelle—still waiting for an answer.
No refusal means there’s still hope.
Gordon, the veteran actor, maintained his affable facade, but his lingering stares at Rebecca betrayed his true thoughts.
Age is just a number, but a twenty-year gap? Seriously, old man? Can’t you see Rebecca avoiding your gaze?
Julian and Genevieve exchanged glances. In previous episodes, Gordon hadn’t been this blatant. Had the impending divorce emboldened him?
Even with Ruth hovering nearby, trying to shield Rebecca from his advances, his attention remained fixated.
Then, a tall figure stepped closer to Rebecca, breaking the tension.
Her expression flickered when she noticed Simon beside her.
Who is that? Evelyn’s curiosity piqued.
"Just a supporting actor, I think. Don’t know him," Julian muttered.
No name meant no gossip. Evelyn’s instincts flared—was he another troublemaker?
Isabelle answered swiftly, "That’s Simon, Gordon’s nephew. A rookie actor—lazy, really. Mrs. Gonzales brought him in to keep tabs on things."
The group stared at her, impressed by her insider knowledge.
Thumbs-up all around.
So, he’s a watchdog, not a threat? Boring. Time to dig into Mrs. Gonzales’ schemes.
Preston launched into a lengthy speech, but Team A-List had already tuned out, lost in their own whispered scandals—as if they weren’t even in the same room.
Vicious. Thank goodness the production team has standards.
Defamation, plain and simple. How dare they slander someone like this?
Evelyn’s fragmented thoughts frustrated Julian and Genevieve.
What’s happening? Spill it already! Spoilers won’t hurt us. The sooner we know, the better we can prepare. What if we’re blindsided?
Preston wiped sweat from his brow, nodding along mechanically.
Rebecca rarely lost her composure under fire—especially after Evelyn and her team had seemed so righteous earlier. She’d foolishly hoped for fairness.
But rumors like these? Once they spread, no denial would ever be enough. The best she could do was play dumb.
Yet this time stung worse. Even Team A-List doubted her. The contract she’d pinned her hopes on? Gone.
She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. She’d grown numb to such blows.
But this was public humiliation.
She’d been slapped, hair yanked, dragged through mud before. The men would whisk their crazed wives away, never defending her. The room’s stares would freeze her blood. No matter what she said, no one believed her.
This scene felt identical. The room fell silent. All eyes locked onto her—sharp, judgmental, cutting.
Her lips parted, but her throat closed. Defeated, she swallowed her words.
Then—
"What?!" Preston gasped.
Donovan paled. "Ms. Sinclair, you can’t possibly believe that."
The two men were visibly shaken.
Others reacted with shock, whispers, or morbid fascination.
Rebecca blinked. This was different. Preston and Donovan genuinely hadn’t suspected her. Maybe this time, she could speak up.
She lifted her head—and met Evelyn’s amused smile.
Her breath hitched. "Ms. Sinclair, you’ve misunderstood. There’s nothing improper between Mr. Whitmore or Mr. Sharpe and me. Those are just rumors. I’m innocent."
No mockery followed. Only Evelyn’s delighted gaze, sparkling with mischief.
Evelyn tilted her head, feigning confusion. "Oh? Just rumors? But I heard it straight from Mr. Whitmore’s assistants."
She pointed at three girls behind Preston and Donovan—now ghostly pale.
"They were in the bathroom, claiming you had a threesome with Mr. Whitmore and Mr. Sharpe for an hour—that they saw it with their own eyes. That your goal was to take us down."
Gasps filled the room.
Evelyn shrugged. "Naturally, I was concerned. Since everyone’s here, why not clear the air?"
Preston and Donovan whirled toward the three girls.
Exposed under the spotlight, their legs trembled.
Can filth truly hide in the light?