Chapter 114 Critical Point
Cameron handed his phone to Sean, and Kevin couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed. Kevin muttered, Hey, I’m right beside you. Can’t I see the news first?
Cameron approached Sean and played the video, and then Kevin huddled closer to Sean. The title
was explosive.
‘Shocking news. The famous designer is actually an exploiter? Assistant creates actual designs and
clothing.
The video showed Abigail exiting Luna’s room with a half–finished dress. Astonishingly, the dress was completed by the following day when it was returned to Luna’s room. Abigail repeated this process for three consecutive days. The video ended with a black screen, but the sounds of a sewing machine continued in the background.
As the sewing machine fell silent, Abigail’s voice began to speak. “There are still many unfinished details. I’ll take this back to my room and work on it. You get some rest.”
“It’s late. We have two days to finish this. What’s the hurry?” Luna’s voice questioned, clearly recorded while being near the device.
It was evident from the varying volumes of their voices that Luna wasn’t beside the sewing
machine. Abigail, who finished the dress, was close to the sewing machine. Their conversation
continued.
“I can’t afford to waste time. Can you take over if something stops me from finishing my design?”
“I should’ve paid more attention in cla*s. Now, I can’t help, and you have to deal with this alone. You might have to buy the designs and hire someone to make the dress.”
“We’ll live comfortably once we finish this and win the prize.”
The voices in the video were unmistakably Abigail’s and Luna’s, and video evidence supported it.
Luna slammed her phone onto the table, causing the screen to crack. She glared at Abigail, fuming. “This editing is outrageous. They’ve cut out all the crucial details. This is defamation! It’s libel!”
Abigail had an icy look on her face. “If they can prove that Alana is a scam and a con artist, the
production team can terminate our contracts. I told you they wouldn’t reveal our identities. They
opted for a smear campaign instead.”
Luna seethed with anger. “I can’t believe they installed a camera and a voice recorder.”
Abigail analyzed the angle from which the video was shot. “Nina’s clever. She must have hidden the camera in the peephole.”
Luna asked skeptically, “How do you know?”
“Rough guess. It’s probably installed in the direction facing her room. Since no one noticed it, she must’ve taken down the peephole and replaced it with a camera.” Abigail turned off the video.
Luna approached the door, lifted the cover of the peephole, and scrutinized it closely. She extended her finger, tapping the peephole’s gla*s until it popped out. She opened the door and examined the crystal that had fallen. Her brow furrowed, and she picked it up before carefully reinserting it into the peephole. After reattaching the crystal, she returned to the room. She reported, “The hotel did all the renovations but left the peepholes untouched. They’re all old
models.”
Abigail wasn’t surprised. She knew there were always oversights, and peepholes were easy to miss
among all the hotel details.
“What now?” Luna asked
Abigail said, “We’ll tell the truth and come clean. I can improvise a design explanation on the spot. Alternatively, we can stall until our team returns with something. Then, the real show begins.”
Luna approached the coffee table and clasped her hands in prayer. “Please, my foolish brother, give me a sign before the showdown. God, don’t let those witches escape justice.”
A knock on the door startled them. Luna hastily stashed her phone in Abigail’s bag, and they
switched phones.
Abigail opened the door to find Joan, the other designers, and the models outside. They wore expressions ranging from disdain to curiosity to schadenfreude.
Victor squeezed through the crowd, voicing his support. “I trust you ladies. I’m sure they’re spreading false accusations.”
Nina stepped forward with urgency. “Who are these ‘they‘ you’re talking about? Tell me.”
Joan appeared disappointed, with red rims around her eyes. “I can’t believe my favorite designer is
a fraud.”
