On the last night of the university festival, as students buzzed with lively chatter while enjoying the sky lantern release and the warmth of the bonfire, a tense scene unfolded near one of the night market stalls. Spencer stood among the few onlookers, his sharp gaze fixed on the center of the commotion.

  The first-year HRM students, whose stall Blair had generously helped on promoting as part of their assignment with Mr. Flenn, were now pointing fingers and accusing her of taking all their cash sales.

  Spencer narrowed his eyes as he observed her, savoring every reaction and every subtle flinch. His excitement was almost palpable, like a devil reveling in the suffering of another. He recalled her words from last night: “Life is life, no matter what. And despite everything, life is beautiful.” The phrase echoed in his mind, clashing with his own cynicism.

  ‘Let’s see how long you can keep believing that,’ he thought, his gaze never leaving her. There was something almost predatory in the way he stared, waiting for a crack in her armor. He yearned to see her crumble, to hear her admit that life wasn’t beautiful, that it was too much to bear. He wanted to validate his contrasting belief—that life, in its raw and unrelenting harshness, could break even the strongest spirits.

  The accusations continued to swirl, and the crowd grew increasingly restless. Suddenly, Kara Loren, the group leader of the first-year HRM students, stepped forward, her face flushed with anger. She pointed a trembling finger at Blair, her voice rising above the murmurs of the crowd.

  “I know it was Ms. Wilson!” she screamed, her tone shrill and desperate, as if determined to convince everyone of her claim. “She was the last person I saw at the cash register. And we all know she’s been struggling with her finances. Who else would have a motive to take the money?”

  The crowd gasped, turning their eyes back to Blair, who had a pale but composed face. The murmurs grew louder, forming a chorus of doubt and suspicion. Just then, Mr. Flenn, the head of the business department, raised his hand to signal for silence, and the crowd reluctantly quieted.

  “Ms. Loren,” Mr. Flenn said in a firm tone, “do you have any evidence to support this claim? Are there any witnesses who can confirm that she was the one who took the money?”

  Kara faltered, her confidence wavered as she struggled to find for a convincing response to support her claim. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for someone who could corroborate her statement.

  Just then, another student stepped forward—one of Samantha’s close friends, Tesse. She crossed her arms, a smirk playing on her lips as she regarded Blair with a blend of disdain and triumph.

  “I was the last customer, and I remember it clearly,” Tesse said confidently. “Ms. Wilson handed me the change just as all the students rushed off to gather around the bonfire as it was being lit.”

  Kara’s eyes sparkled with a sudden sense of relief as she seized the opportunity to reinforce her accusation. She stepped forward, her voice now calmer yet tinged with a self-satisfied tone.

  “That’s correct. I entrusted her with the key and requested to look at the stall for a meantime. Everyone, myself included, went to enjoy the bonfire lighting and the fireworks display.”

  Spencer’s grin widened, a flicker of wicked satisfaction crossing his face as he reveled in her anguish. His eyes sparkled with dark amusement, relishing the spectacle unfolding before him.

  Blair’s amber eyes darted from one accuser to the next, desperately searching for even a glimmer of understanding or support from the onlookers, but found none. Their gazes pierced her, their expressions shifting from doubt to disdain, and the weight of their collective judgment pressed heavily upon her.

  She swallowed hard, her throat tightening as her hand clenched into a trembling fist at her side. Blair wanted to reveal the truth, but the words caught in her throat. She knew well, no one would believe her—no one was even willing to listen. So instead, she absorbed it all in resigned silence, unable to defend herself against the overwhelming tide of accusations.

  Spencer leaned in slightly closer, his voice barely above a whisper—a murmur intended solely for himself.

  “How can you save yourself now?” he mused, his tone laced with curiosity. “After this, will you still be able to look at me with that warm smile and say, ‘As long as I breathe, there’s enough reason to be happy’ even though every shred of dignity has been stripped away from you?”

  His eyes never left Blair with head bowed and spirit seemingly on the verge of breaking. Just as he took a step closer to her, a tall figure emerged from the edge of the crowd, moving with urgency and dark blue eyes filled with concern.

  “What’s this commotion all about, Mr. Flenn?”

  Ezra Taylor’s presence was undeniably commanding. He silenced even the most fervent whispers with his intense gaze, which showed a blend of concern and authority in his sculpted features. The sheer force of his presence, combined with his strikingly handsome face, rendered those around him momentarily speechless.

  Mr. Flenn stepped forward, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. He responded with a measured tone, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Mr. Taylor, it seems there has been an unfortunate misunderstanding,” Mr. Flenn said in a steady voice. “The cash from the register at the first-year HRM students’ stall, which Ms. Wilson generously helped promote, has gone missing.”

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  He paused briefly before continuing, “The students assumed she might be responsible, as she was the last person seen at the stall before the incident occurred.”

  The crowd shifted uneasily, some casting furtive glances at Blair, while others looked at Ezra, whose dark blue eyes remained fixed on Mr. Flenn. He listened intently, but his knitted brow hinted at the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. His jaw tightened subtly, and his hands rested at his sides, clenched just enough to reveal the tension he was suppressing.

  “Do you believe their absurd claim?” His voice was not loud, but the weight of his words demanded scrutiny. Every movement, no matter how restrained, exuded a quiet yet undeniable authority, making the crowd even more apprehensive.

  “There were witnesses,” Samantha interjected smoothly, her voice cutting through the murmurs. “And Blair hasn’t denied the accusation, has she?” She cast a sideways glance at Blair before returning her gaze to Ezra, her posture conveying a sense of ease in addressing him directly. “So, how do you expect people to react?” Her words lingered in the air, imbued with the implication that her opinion carried significance.

  “Did any of these witnesses,” he asked, his voice low but deliberately intimidating, “see with their own eyes she took the money from the cash register?”

  As the crowd fell silent, Ezra turned to Blair and, without hesitation, pulled her into his arms. Spencer narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on the scene with a mix of irritation and something deeper—something he couldn’t quite identify.

  Her typically unyielding armor appeared to dissolve with every passing second in his embrace. Her head rested against his chest, her body trembling as the weight of her unshed tears finally broke free. She clung to him, the strength she had desperately maintained slipping away in the safety of his arms.

  Spencer’s jaw tightened as the memory of their first year in medical school flashed vividly in his mind. He recalled the chaos at the campus pond, where a student had jumped into the pond, suspected of carrying an unknown and dangerous virus. Amid the panic, it was Blair who stepped forward without a second thought and saved him.

  He recalled how Ezra strode through the crowd with the same commanding presence and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly with a worried expression. That day, Spencer had witnessed the unspoken bond between them.

  Now, as he watched a similar scene unfold, he felt a wave of frustration wash over him, mingled with a grudging admiration for Blair’s resilience. Even as her composure shattered, there was an undeniable strength in her vulnerability—one that both annoyed and intrigued him.

  “Blair,” Ezra murmured, lowering his head slightly to speak directly into her ear, “what happened? How did this absurd accusation even begin?”

  He tightened his embrace, gently coaxing her as if she were a child in need of comfort. He stroked her back in slow, soothing circles, a stark contrast to the commanding tone he had used moments earlier.

  “I thought… I thought someone had been following me for days. I couldn’t shake the feeling. It was as if they were waiting for me to make a mistake.” Her voice trembled as she finally found the strength to respond, her words shaky but filled with underlying fear.

  Ezra’s eyes softened with recognition; the unspoken trauma concealed in her words, he alone recognized it. He continued to hug her, his embrace providing silent reassurance as she spoke.

  “I went to the back of the stall to check and confirm my suspicion,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But when I returned, Kara was there… and she told me the cash was gone.”

  Ezra nodded slowly, absorbing the unspoken weight of Blair’s words. He tightened his embrace just a little, silently vowing to protect her from the turmoil surrounding them.

  His expression hardened in an instant, shifting from gentle concern to rage. His dark blue eyes, once soft, now bore down on the crowd with an intensity that made even the boldest flinch.

  “I am certain that Blair didn’t do this,” he declared, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “However, I will investigate this thoroughly.”

  The crowd exchanged uneasy glances while Samantha and her friend’s confident demeanor faltered under Ezra’s penetrating stare. The power of his words served as a reminder of his influence.

  Everyone knew he owned one of the most powerful and trusted cybersecurity firms in the world. His expertise in uncovering the truth was unparalleled, and the prospect of him delving into this matter sent a ripple of anxiety through the people brutally judged Blair without enough evidence. The students’ earlier accusations now seemed reckless as they shuffled uncomfortably at the thought of him investigating with such precision.

  Ezra gently pulled Blair closer, preparing to guide her away from the suffocating crowd. But before turning fully, he paused, his eyes narrowing as he cast one last glance over at the gathered students.

  “Just so you know,” he said, each word deliberate and sharp, “Blair might have severed her ties with the Wilsons, but not with me. And she naturally owns whatever I have.”

  The crowd stiffened, the implication clear. Ezra’s protective declaration left no room for further doubt about Blair’s innocence.

  Samantha’s face twisted in horror, her confidence crumbling as she processed his words. The murmurs among the students grew, fueled by awe and curiosity. Whispers about Blair’s relationship with Ezra spread rapidly, each hushed conversation adding to the mounting tension.

  On campus, only a select few knew the true nature of Blair’s connection to Ezra. Most had been led to believe that Ezra was Samantha’s fiancé. Now, Ezra’s statement left Samantha trapped in the web of her own lies.

  As Ezra pulled Blair away from the stifling crowd, Spencer’s gaze locked onto his hand, noting the tenderness and protectiveness with which he held her wrist. Distracted by the scene unfolding before him, her barely noticed when Blair’s hand brushed against his jacket pocket in one fluid motion, slipping something inside without drawing attention.

  As Spencer settled into his car, the earlier commotion fading into the background, he reached into his pocket and felt the crumpled paper Blair had slipped inside. His brow furrowed with curiosity as he unfolded the note, immediately recognizing the familiar penmanship.

  On a scale from 1 to 10, how good is my acting?

  You probably know why I had to bring Ezra Taylor into this—he’s the only one who can unmask whoever’s been following me like some sneaky, great mage. And, of course, you’ll catch this weirdo for me, right?

  The corners of his mouth twitched, and a sharp, incredulous laugh escaped his mouth as he read the note. It quickly escalated into a full-blown chuckle that filled the car, echoing off the windows in a cascade of disbelief and reluctant amusement. He shook his head, his laughter mixing with the absurdity of how she tricked him again.

  Finally, his gaze returned to the note, landing on the last line.

  P.S. Let’s talk more about my award-winning acting tomorrow.

  A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back in his seat, his mind playing on Blair’s clever manipulation of her predicament. How she might actually have chance to survive from the countless ruthless monsters that after the USB and her life.