Sharon Ainsworth seed to have prepared her answer in advance. "Our television station is partnered with Quincy. Last night, he asked to et him to discuss a potential endorsent deal."
She couldn’t believe Quincy would testify that he had tried to rape her.
The corners of Leon Lynch’s eyes held a mocking glint. "Is that so? Why is your story different from what my cousin told ? Now, let’s welco my cousin."
Sharon Ainsworth remained relatively composed. She wanted to see just how Quincy would shalessly try to explain himself.
Quincy walked in, beaming, and gave a bow. "Hello, everyone. We all know who my cousin Leon is. To be frank, countless won would love to marry him. There’s absolutely no reason for him to go after a disgraced woman whose engagent was just called off. Last night, I was the one who invited Miss Ainsworth to Temptation Bar, as we’ve worked together before. But as soon as she arrived, she claid Quentin Grant breaking off the engagent had left her utterly humiliated, and she asked to help her marry Leon. I imdiately refused. Then she threatened to press charges against . The mont I said I was going to call the police, she ran out, and I chased after her."
At this point, Quincy forced a wide smile and continued, "Right after that, I ran into my cousin in the hallway. We exchanged a few pleasantries, and my cousin was about to leave, but Miss Ainsworth refused to let him. I left shortly after that."
His long explanation sounded perfectly reasonable and logical.
Sharon Ainsworth never imagined he would say such a thing. She grew agitated. "You’re lying! You were the one trying to force yourself on ! I ran because I was scared, and you chased !"
Quincy let out a dramatic sigh. "Miss Ainsworth, you co from a good family. Why are you in such a hurry to get married? It’s bad enough that you’ve falsely accused my cousin, but now you’re trying to drag down with you?"
Sharon Ainsworth was so furious she nearly fainted. She was biting her tongue, unable to offer any rebuttal.
Hearing this, the reporters’ initial assessnt was that Sharon Ainsworth was lying.
"Miss Ainsworth, how do you respond to Mr. Quincy’s statent?" a male reporter asked.
Sharon Ainsworth began to cry even harder. "Two brothers ganging up on a lone woman... I have nothing to say."
"Is it that you have nothing to say, or that you’re too guilty to speak?" Leon Lynch’s eyes narrowed nacingly. "You claim I forced myself on you. Is your only evidence the security footage from the hotel hallway? What does footage of soone entering and exiting a room prove? If you have a real case, providing the footage from inside the room would be far more convincing, wouldn’t it?"
Sharon Ainsworth was sobbing too hard to speak clearly. "Hotels don’t have caras inside the rooms! If they did, do you think I would even need to be here?"
Leon Lynch sneered. "Do you have any other evidence?"
Sharon Ainsworth stopped crying. "No."
"And another thing—" Leon Lynch pulled a white phone from his pocket. Attached to it was a small note in Nora Ainsworth’s handwriting.
"This phone contains even more direct evidence. A recording of a conversation between my fiancée, Nora Ainsworth, and you. And I’m going to play it right now."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the reporters below gasped, their caras flashing even more furiously.
Sharon Ainsworth’s lips began to tremble, her earlier confidence completely shattering.
Staring at the caras below, she suddenly felt there was no way she was walking out of this unscathed.
The situation had blown up; there was no turning back now.
But she kept her back straight, listening intently to the recording.
The recording of the call she’d had with Nora Ainsworth just half an hour earlier played from the phone. Everyone present, as well as the viewers watching the live stream, heard every word clearly.
The whole truth of the matter was now out in the open.
"Miss Ainsworth, did you do all of this because you’re that desperate to marry Young Master Lynch?"
"Miss Ainsworth, why would you try to steal your younger sister’s fiancé?"
"Miss Ainsworth, are you that desperate?"
"Miss Ainsworth, is it true you broke your own hyn?"
"Miss Ainsworth, do you really want to get into Young Master Lynch’s bed that badly?"
"Miss Ainsworth—"
Watching from her television, Nora Ainsworth nearly did a spit-take at the reporters’ utterly shaless questions.
Then, she watched as Sharon Ainsworth’s eyes rolled back in her head before she collapsed, live on television.
Nora Ainsworth reached out, turned off the television, and gazed quietly out the window.
She could imagine how difficult life was going to be for Sharon Ainsworth from now on.
But she had brought all of this on herself. No one could save her from it.
Sharon Ainsworth was taken directly to the hospital. By now, everyone was clear on the truth, and the internet exploded all over again.
A flood of comnts poured in, and the fickle court of public opinion swung back in Leon Lynch’s favor.
As the man at the center of the storm, Leon Lynch’s fa skyrocketed once again, even eclipsing that of the wildly popular Ethan Ellsworth.
But as the press conference drew to a close, so reporters still weren’t ready to let him go.
"Young Master Lynch, you referred to the phone’s owner as your ’fiancée, Nora Ainsworth.’ Does this an the two of you never actually called off your engagent?"
Leon Lynch was in an excellent mood. He flashed a rare, charming smile. "I should probably clear that up. Anything I don’t personally confirm is invalid. Nora Ainsworth and I never called off our engagent."
And with that, the press conference concluded.
Quentin Grant closed the web page, his hand slowly tightening around his pen.
’Never called off the engagent? Invalid?’
He took out his phone and dialed Nora Ainsworth’s number. After a few rings, a lazy female voice ca through.
"Hello, President Grant. What’s your directive?"
Quentin Grant toyed with his pen, his voice impossibly pleasant. "Even if I gave you one, could you handle it?"
"If it’s within my abilities, I can."
"You and Leon Lynch didn’t call off the engagent?"
"We did. Why do you ask?"
Quentin Grant humd. "It’s nothing. I’m coming to see you tonight. Wait for ."
Then he hung up.
Nora Ainsworth glanced at her phone and muttered to herself, ’Him coming over tonight is definitely not for anything good.’
As if he could hear her, a smile played on Quentin Grant’s lips.
For the rest of the afternoon, Quentin Grant found he couldn’t quiet his mind and focus on his work.
At five o’clock, even though it wasn’t quite ti to leave, he shut down his computer, grabbed his jacket, and prepared to head out. But just then, his office door opened, and Catherine Callahan walked in.
"Quentin, where are you going?"
"I’m heading out for a bit. Why are you here?"
"I ca to get you for dinner. I know you rarely answer when I call, and if I’d called to ask you ho for a al, you definitely would have refused. I made all your favorite dishes. Won’t you please just co ho and have one bite?" Her voice was tinged with a wounded plea.
Quentin Grant’s grip on his jacket tightened. Finally, he said, "Alright."
Catherine Callahan couldn’t hide the delight in her eyes. "Let’s go ho."
The two of them left the office side by side.
Nora Ainsworth had expected Quentin Grant to show up right after work, but she waited for a long ti with no sign of him.
She was starving, but in case he brought food with him, she held off on eating, not wanting to be full when he arrived.
The minutes ticked by. Finally, at seven o’clock, she couldn’t wait any longer and decided to call him.
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