Chapter 5 Planting Evidence In The Dressing Room
Evelyn Ross recognized Clara Sinclair's voice and silently clenched her fists. She inwardly sighed—why did the people she least wanted to see keep showing up? She really should have checked the almanac before leaving the house this morning...
She stopped and turned around, only to see Clara strutting up to her in high heels, eyeing her up and down with a mix of disdain and suspicion.
"Sneaking around—do you even have a pass?"
"I was brought in for a temporary interview by Mr. MacLeod's assistant. I don't have a badge," Evelyn replied firmly, having done nothing wrong.
Clara sneered. "I don't care who brought you in. No pass, no entry. These lounges are full of priceless jewelry, after all. You could steal one piece, sell it, and live off the money for half your life."
Evelyn knew that Clara was purposely trying to make things difficult for her, probably because Liam Hayes had spoken to her more than a few times earlier on the red carpet. She noticed the hatred in Clara's eyes at the time and probably held it back because of the crowd. When she was invited to interview Finn MacLeod, Clara must have already decided how to get back at her.
Sigh—just her luck. Even with makeup and a disguise, she couldn't avoid a face-off with Clara and Liam.
"I didn't take anything. If you don't believe me, Ms. Sinclair, you can check the security footage."
"No need for that hassle, and I don't have time to dig through footage with you. Open your bag. Let me check. No stolen goods, and you're free to go."
Evelyn glared at Clara but took a deep breath and opened her messenger bag, dumping its contents onto the floor. Though humiliated and tempted to slap Clara, she knew a conflict would cost her the job. Better to endure and let her check.
Clara smiled as she looked at the items on the floor, then gracefully bent down and picked up a dazzling diamond necklace from the clutter." This is my friend Lena's necklace. Care to explain why it was in your bag?" She asked coldly.
Evelyn's heart sank. How had this necklace ended up in her bag? By now, a crowd had gathered, with three or four minor celebrities practically lining up behind Clara. Evelyn was left isolated, unsure of what to do.
Just then, Liam approached from a distance and frowned at Clara. "What's going on?"
"Liam, perfect timing. This journalist stole something—lucky I caught her," Clara said, eyeing his reaction like she was claiming credit.
Liam frowned at Evelyn, his gaze full of doubt and scrutiny. Not expecting help, Evelyn stated plainly, "Someone planted the necklace in my bag. I'm sure Ms. Sinclair knows more about who did it than I do. If Mr. Hayes doesn't believe me, feel free to check the footage. But I won't confess to something I didn't do."
Though she couldn't fathom how Clara had planted the necklace, the other woman's certainty made it clear this was a setup. After all, why would a nobody like her be targeted otherwise?
Just then, a heavily made-up B-list actress sneered, "Ridiculous! Everyone here is more high-profile than you. Why would anyone waste time framing a lowly journalist?"
Evelyn turned at the voice, suddenly recalling the bathroom earlier. She'd been there, splashing water on her face after taking her heart medication, when she'd turned to grab a tissue, leaving her bag open by the sink. This actress had been there—Evelyn remembered their eyes meeting briefly before the woman looked away.
Now that the actress was siding with Clara, Evelyn realized she must have planted the necklace when her back was turned.
"It was you!" Evelyn snapped at the actress, her gaze sharp as a blade. "In the bathroom, my bag was open. You put the necklace in then."
The actress's eyes flickered with guilt, but she scoffed, "Me? Frame you? I don't even know you!"
Evelyn clenched her fists silently. She had no proof—the bathroom had no cameras. It was all just conjecture. Without evidence, even certainty meant nothing.
"Enough. This is an open and shut case. I'm calling the police," Clara said impatiently, pulling out her phone.
Evelyn frowned and racked her brain for ideas. This matter couldn't be taken to the police-even if she was cleared, her superiors would think she'd messed with the wrong people and might even demote her. And in police custody, who knew if Clara would use her connections to convict her?
Just then, the crowd stirred, parting like the sea. Someone important was approaching. Before she could see who, Evelyn felt an oppressive aura—Finn MacLeod, no doubt.
His aristocratic, icy demeanor made everyone around him bow their heads. But Evelyn had an idea: he might be her only hope of proof.
"Mr. MacLeod, please wait," she said, stepping into his path.
The man's cold gaze bore down, his inky black eyes seeming to pierce her soul. Though intimidated, she met his gaze firmly. "Mr. MacLeod, Ms. Sinclair accuses me of theft, but I didn't steal the necklace. Please help me prove my innocence."
Finn looked down at her. "Why should I?"
Evelyn pulled herself together." First of all, I didn't steal the necklace, I didn't even touch it. Second, I was invited by you to be a reporter. My wrongdoing is trivial, but if this damages your reputation, the cost will be enormous. Please help me get justice."
As she spoke, she saw his brow furrow slightly—was he angry? Honestly, she wasn't sure. Playing the "invited by you" card, tying their reputations together, was a gamble. It might get her help or enrage him—after all, it was blatant favor-seeking. Dangerous, but necessary.
Some in the crowd were already looking at her like she was dead. Finn didn't reply immediately, and her heart raced.
Clara stepped forward. "Even if she's your invited journalist, theft is theft. She must be held accountable."
Finn glanced at Clara, irritation clear in his eyes. Liam shot Clara a warning look, but she ignored it, turning back to Evelyn. "Just a common thief, hoping Mr. MacLeod will protect you? How delusional."
Clara knew Liam feared offending Finn, but she was confident. As a Sinclair heiress, Liam's wife, and a former Oscar winner, even Finn would think twice before crossing her—wouldn't he?
All eyes turned to Finn. Evelyn held her breath. Then, to everyone's shock, Finn took the bag from her hand, knelt, and began picking up the scattered items one by one, placing them back in the bag. The crowd stared in disbelief—Mr. MacLeod was helping this woman pick up her things?
"Remember, as my secretary, you shouldn't let just anyone search your bag," he said, handing her the bag and patting her shoulder.
Evelyn froze, her mouth twitching—secretary?! Since when had she become Finn MacLeod's secretary? But then she realized he intended to help her. A wave of gratitude washed over her—maybe he wasn't as cold as he seemed!
Liam couldn't help staring at the journalist. The startled look on her face reminded him of Evelyn Ross—she'd always made that same dazed expression when surprised, like a startled squirrel.
"Surely you're joking, Mr. MacLeod," Clara ventured. "How is a Starburst Media journalist your secretary? You can't seriously be protecting her."
"Since when does hiring my own secretary require Ms. Sinclair's approval?" Finn's cold voice carried a clear edge of anger, chilling the air. Clara shuddered involuntarily, realizing she needed to back down—Finn was not someone to provoke.
But Evelyn's “pathetic” look got to her." Even if she was your secretary, she could be fired. Thieves don't deserve to work for you."
Evelyn sighed inwardly—Clara, so petty and so stupid. Couldn't she see Finn was already angry? Poking the bear like this was suicide.
She looked up at Finn, who smirked disdainfully. "Is Ms. Sinclair looking down on her... or on me? Do you think my secretary would steal a $30,000 necklace?"
Clara went pale. Everyone knew Finn MacLeod was a billionaire; even his drivers wore Hermès. But she still couldn't fathom why he was helping this plain, skinny journalist.
Evelyn, however, felt a warmth in her chest. Suddenly, Finn's perpetually cold face seemed ...... A little handsome. And smooth.
Finn turned to his assistant. "Since Ms. Sinclair insists Ms. Hall stole the necklace, let's investigate thoroughly. Go to the police station now—check footage, run fingerprints. If Ms. Hall is guilty, handle it accordingly. If not..." His cold gaze shifted to Clara, "You know what to do."
Assistant David nodded, put on white gloves, and turned to Clara. "Please hand over the necklace, Ms. Sinclair."