Chapter 67

The call ended abruptly, leaving Harrison Montgomery's face etched with bitter disappointment. He hadn't anticipated Natalie Whitaker's sharp rebuke. Turning to Vanessa Sterling, he exhaled heavily before murmuring, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. Natalie... She's not herself right now. I'll speak to her later."

Vanessa offered a delicate smile, though triumph flickered in her eyes. "It's alright. Love makes people do irrational things. I... understand." Her voice was soft, but inside, her pulse raced. Harrison mentioning divorce? This was better than she'd dared hope.

Her gaze lingered on him, but when he caught her staring, he averted his eyes, discomfort tightening his jaw.

Vanessa maintained her fragile facade—the picture of wounded innocence. Harrison's resolve wavered, and in a reckless moment, he seized her wrist.

She barely had time to feign surprise before he declared, "We're settling this now!" and dragged her forward.

Panic clawed at her throat. How can I face them? But it was too late to protest.

Harrison's expression hardened with misplaced determination. He wouldn't let Vanessa suffer alone—not when he could "defend" her honor.

Their managers, distracted by damage control, failed to intercept Harrison's impulsive charge.

The makeup room doors burst open, silencing the chatter inside. Everyone froze.

No one had expected Harrison and Vanessa to return—not after the scandal had exploded online.

This is beyond awkward...

Why isn’t he hiding in shame?

Evelyn Sinclair, Julian Blackwood, and Marcus Donovan exchanged stunned glances.

Are they seriously using the 'if we act unbothered, everyone else will squirm' tactic?

Evelyn barely suppressed an eye-roll when Harrison stormed toward her, Vanessa in tow. His face was pale, his posture rigid—but instead of retreating, he redirected his humiliation into anger.

"Ms. Sinclair," he bit out, "stealing Vanessa’s dress was one thing, but fabricating lies about my relationship with her? That’s crossing a line." His glare swept over Julian and Marcus, a silent warning in his eyes.

Vanessa’s stomach twisted. Then, realization struck—the boutique would never release surveillance footage. Without proof, it’s my word against hers.

She steeled herself, doubling down on her act, her face the perfect mask of wounded dignity.

The room held its breath. Is there more to this story?

Evelyn blinked. She’d set a trap, yes—but spreading rumors?

Since when did I do that?

Ah. Of course. To men like him, the mistress is always truthful, and the wife is always lying.

Julian tensed, ready to intervene, but Marcus subtly held him back. "Mr. Montgomery, this is a misunderstanding. Evelyn wasn’t referring to you two."

Harrison’s manager, Maxwell Thornton, jumped in—though damage control would’ve been wiser. "Everyone knows who Ms. Sinclair meant. We won’t tolerate slander. An apology would resolve this."

Evelyn nearly laughed. They actually believe Vanessa’s act?

The tension thickened as the managers squared off. Staff scrambled to find the director.

Then Evelyn struck.

"Tell me, was it an accident that you ignored your wife’s calls? You couldn’t even spare a moment for her, yet you replied to Vanessa instantly?"

Harrison’s face flushed crimson.

Evelyn pressed on, "Or is it because your wife and Vanessa never actually met that day?"

The memory of Natalie’s slap and accusations hit Harrison like a physical blow.

Evelyn tilted her head. "Mr. Montgomery, where, exactly, did I spread false rumors?"

The room waited.

Harrison had no answer.

Even Maxwell looked stunned.

No twist? No grand defense?

He came back just to humiliate himself further.

Silence stretched.

Then came the whispers:

How could he be this delusional?

What a fool.