Chapter 674
674:
“Isn’t that the Harper family’s daughter? Didn’t she marry a prince or something? Why is she doing this?”
“If these photos leak, they’ll blow up the internet.”
Rosie tried to shrink into Maxley’s arms, wishing she could vanish. The cleaner tossed them some tattered clothes from the trash to cover their naked bodies.
They eventually managed to go back to their hotel room.
“Maxley, someone must have set us up!” Rosie said, convinced Ethan and Brenna were the masterminds.
In her mind, only Brenna could devise such a vile plan.
She called Brenna repeatedly, but Brenna wouldn’t pick up.
“We can’t let Brenna get away with this!” Rosie spat, seething.
Maxley, even angrier, glared at the door in frustration. “We need to kill Ethan and Brenna. You deal with the reporters; I’ll come up with a plan. This isn’t just a personal attack; it’s an insult to Plieca and our royal family!”
Maxley insisted Rosie face the reporters on her own. But Rosie was reluctant, knowing she would only be humiliated. Seeing her stall, Maxley’s frustration boiled over. He shot to his feet, barking, “Hurry up!”
Left with no choice, Rosie concealed her identity completely, desperate to avoid recognition if photographed. She donned a face mask and oversized sunglasses. She wrapped a vibrant designer scarf around her head and wore a long trench coat before cautiously opening the hotel room door.
“Ms. Harper, you have finally come out!”
“Where’s Prince Maxley? Is he still inside?”
“Can you get Prince Maxley to step out?”
“Ms. Harper, is what you did with Prince Maxley a form of art or something?”
Rosie was beyond exasperated. She had never despised journalists as much as she did at that moment. Shoving through the throng with all her strength, she called out, “Come with me, and I’ll answer your questions.”
𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙜𝖆𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀[ꞏ]𝖈𝖔𝖒
She hadn’t forgotten Maxley’s orders. After the day’s fiasco, if she couldn’t regain his favor and prove her worth, she might lose her royal title. She wasn’t about to let the status she had fought so hard to achieve vanish.
As expected, the reporters took the bait, following her out.
Brenna arrived at the Mitchell Group headquarters and immediately sensed something was amiss. The four receptionists—two men and two women—who had greeted her courteously the day before now eyed her with peculiar looks.
Melany Olson, a young and attractive female receptionist with over three years of experience at the front desk, knew every executive and mid-level manager by name and could recognize many employees. She had been here a few days earlier when Elsa had caused a stir and had even answered some of Elsa’s questions, learning her identity in the process.
“Ms. Harper,” Melany said to Brenna with a practiced smile, “Mr. Mitchell’s mother is here. She specifically asked if you had arrived. It seems she wants to speak with you.”
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