I Married My Ex's Billionaire Father-Chapter 192: The Culprit
The backstage area crackled with nervous energy. They had been informed that they had five minutes, just five minutes until the first round of the Golden Fleece competition began. The contestants, a mix of seasoned professionals and nervous newcomers, were putting the final touches on their creations, their faces a mixture of excitement and anxiety.
Lyse, her heart pounding in her chest, meticulously adjusted the drape of a vibrant silk gown, her hands moving with practiced precision. She glanced at her other piece, a sharply tailored jacket with intricate embroidery, hanging on a nearby rack, ready for its debut.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the entrance to the backstage area. Raised voices, hurried footsteps, and a palpable sense of panic filled the air.
A harried-looking stage manager rushed towards the contestants, his face etched with worry.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice strained, "we have a slight...hiccup. One of the contestants’ garments is missing. We are going to need to conduct a brief search before we can begin." 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Missing? How could a garment just disappear? The tension in the air thickened, suspicion and paranoia creeping into the space. Everyone eyed each other, wondering if foul play was involved and whose work had gone missing.
The stage manager, accompanied by a few security personnel, began a systematic search of the backstage area. They checked behind racks of clothing, under tables, and inside dressing rooms.
The contestants watched anxiously, their carefully crafted composure beginning to fray.
As the search party approached Lyse’s assigned dressing room, Brooke and her entourage drifted closer, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and something else...something that looked suspiciously like malice.
One of Brooke’s friends, a petite woman with a sharp tongue and an even sharper gaze, pointed a finger at Lyse. "You know," she said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "Lyse was looking rather green earlier. And we all know how envious she is of Brooke’s talent."
"I would not be surprised to find out she had something to do with it." Another of them whispered loudly.
Lyse’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing with anger. "What are you implying?" she asked, her voice dangerously low.
"I’m just saying," the woman shrugged, a sly smile playing on her lips. "It’s awfully convenient that a garment goes missing from a top contender right before the competition, and the person who stands to gain the most just happens to be...well, you."
Sarah, Lyse’s fiercely loyal assistant, stepped forward, her eyes blazing. "That is a ridiculous accusation!" she snapped, her voice ringing through the room. "Lyse would never do such a thing, she has no need to sabotage anyone when she is very talented!"
"Oh, really?" the woman scoffed. "Everyone knows Lyse has been trying to one-up her own sister, Brooke for years. This would not be the first time she has resorted to...unethical tactics."
"Her husband probably can’t buy out this contest for her, so she has resorted to underhanded tactics." Another one of Brooke’s people said.
"That is enough!" Sarah’s voice was sharp. "You have no proof of anything. Making such accusations is slanderous and could get you in trouble!"
The woman smirked. "We will see, won’t we?"
Just then, the search party reached Lyse’s room. They carefully examined the space, checking every nook and cranny. And then, one of the security personnel let out a cry of surprise.
"Here it is!" he exclaimed, pulling a garment bag emblazoned with Brooke’s name from behind a rack of clothing. He unzipped the bag, revealing...Brooke’s missing piece. A stunning, intricately beaded gown.
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to Lyse, who stood there, her face a mask of indifference and nonchalance. It was like the whole situation was happening away from her and she could not be bothered to give it any energy.
Brooke’s friend let out a triumphant gasp. "You see?" she said, pointing at Lyse and looking at the people now gathered around. "I told you! She stole it!"
Brooke, who had been watching the scene unfold with a look of smug satisfaction, now stepped forward, her eyes narrowed. "Lyse," she said, her voice dripping with disappointment, "I’m...surprised. I thought you were better than this. You are my own sister, why would you do this to me?"
Lyse stared at the gown with a smile. She was being framed. Someone had planted the garment in her room, trying to sabotage her chances. But who could it be? And as for why, she could guess a couple of reasons why.
"I didn’t do it," she said, her voice calm. "And I don’t know how that got into my room."
"Oh, please," Brooke’s friend scoffed. "Don’t play the innocent act. We all know you are jealous of Brooke, you must have stolen it to get rid of competition."
In the back, people began to whisper in shock. They had come only for a competiton but now they were also getting some spicy drama.
Sarah stepped forward again, her face flushed with anger. "This is ridiculous!" she exclaimed. "Lyse would never stoop to such a low level. Someone is trying to set her up!"
"Oh, really?" Brooke said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "And who would do that, Sarah? Who would want to frame Lyse?"
"I...I don’t know," Sarah stammered, avoiding Brooke’s gaze.
Brooke smiled, a knowing smile that sent a chill down Lyse’s spine. "Well," she said, "I guess we will just have to let the authorities and organizers handle this. I’m sure they will get to the bottom of it."
The stage manager, looking flustered and overwhelmed, stepped forward. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his voice shaky, "I’m afraid we’re going to have to postpone the first round of the competition. We need to...investigate this matter further."
A murmur of discontent rippled through the room. The contestants were disappointed, their hard work put on hold. But the tension and suspicion were too thick to ignore.
As the room began to empty, Lyse stood there, while Brooke walked away feeling triumphant.
