Chapter 165
“Ms. March, aren’t you gonna give me the lowdown?”
The sharp words were ringing in my ears. I steadied myself and coolly said, “President Stapleton, it wasn’t me.”
“It wasn’t you?” Shirley’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “Then who could it be?”
She clearly wasn’t buying what I was selling.
I patiently laid it out for her, “If I had a message for you, I could’ve come to you directly. Why would I beat around the bush?”
Shirley’s eyes were darting around, suspicion written all over her face. “Then why on earth are people singling you out, Xaviera?”
I was choked up, unable to respond.
Yeah, I’d also like to know why, when passing along a message, they had to drag my name, Xaviera, into it.
Wasn’t that just throwing me under the bus?
Setting me up to take the fall?
And here I was, with no solid proof to clear my name.
I felt pretty helpless, to be honest.
Of course, no one was gonna be chummy with someone who spilled the beans about others, especially not this crowd of playful rich kids.
And just like that, Shirley’s comment had them all giving me the side–eye.
Those were looks of skepticism.
The more I thought about it, the angrier I got, and my gaze involuntarily landed on the man sitting nonchalantly across the way.
Cool as a cucumber, Hogan was still the same old Hogan.
Thinking back to what went down the day before, I couldn’t help but suspect that he was up to his neck in this whole mess.
“President Stapleton, you’re so sure it was Xaviera who passed the message to you, but do you have any proof?” A crisp voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Timothy’s
1/2
11:01
Chapter 165
arm rested casually on my shoulder as he said, “You can’t just throw accusations around without evidence.”
“Mr. Temple, what are you implying?” Shirley’s eyes widened, her irritation flaring up. “Are you saying I’m stirring up trouble on purpose?”
Timothy shrugged, “I didn’t say that, but Xaviera is my guest, so naturally, I’ve got her
back.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an unspoken weight.
The point of contention shifted to Timothy and Shirley.
The atmosphere took a nosedive.
“President Stapleton, actually, there’s a way to sort this out,” a sweet voice suddenly piped up. “Since someone else was supposed to have passed the message, why don’t we just call them over and ask? Maybe there’s been some misunderstanding.”
It was Cecilia speaking, eyes demurely downcast, her tone soft and her suggestion hitting the nail on the head, earning nods of approval from many.
In theory, this sounded like a way to prove my innocence, but why then did I feel even more uneasy?
“That’s a good idea,” Shirley agreed with the suggestion and then turned to me and Timothy, asking, “Mr. Temple, Ms. March, what do you think?”
As if I had a choice.
With things having escalated to this point, I had to find a way to clear my name, so I agreed, “Let’s go with what you suggest, President Stapleton.”
Luckily, the hotel was crawling with cameras, so finding the messenger wouldn’t be tough. Sure enough, in less than an hour, they brought that person to the main hall.
It was a middle–aged woman, around forty or so.
She glanced around at everyone, then at Shirley, and said, “I’m just the messenger. What do you all want with me?”
Shirley tossed the question to the middle–aged woman, commanding, “Pick out the Person who asked you to carry the message from those present.”
The woman nodded, her dull eyes scanning us, and my heart started racing.
After a moment, I saw the woman point at me and say, “It was her, she’s the one who told me to pass the message.”
