The art museum closes at five, and usually there are quite a few people at the entrance around that ti.
Sienna Monroe looked at the man in front of her, pondered for a few seconds, and proactively asked, "Are you free tonight? Let treat you to dinner."
That rainy night, she always felt she owed him a favor.
It’s not right to show no appreciation.
Her conscience wouldn’t let her rest.
The last al was on him.
"What ti?"
"Anyti works for , whenever you’re available."
Sebastian Prescott glanced at his watch and said coolly, "Six-thirty. You choose the restaurant and send the location."
"Okay." Sienna Monroe smiled warmly, "Drive safely."
Sebastian lightly nodded, turned, tossed his coat in the back seat, and opened the door to the driver’s seat and got in.
As the car started and drove about ten ters away, he glanced at the right rearview mirror and unexpectedly saw the slender figure still standing there, looking in the direction of the car.
The sun gradually set in the west, losing a bit of its warmth.
Sienna had hurried down, not wearing a coat, with only a chiffon blouse on, and Sebastian frowned unconsciously until the car was about to turn a corner when he saw her turn and go inside. Only then did he relax his brow and look away.
Sienna returned to the third floor, heading straight to her office.
Ding!
A text ssage alert sounded.
[Vivian Nash will use Stella Yates’ phone in one of the art museum’s work groups to spread a rumor of you and Sebastian Prescott downstairs just now, accusing you of infidelity!]
She was imdiately stunned, her body stiffening.
Vivian Nash caught her and Sebastian Prescott?
Spreading rumors?
Infidelity!
The emphasis in those strings of text made her throat tighten.
About ten minutes later, Nora Joyce knocked hurriedly on the office door, and before Sienna could speak, she had already pushed the door open and entered, "Ms. Monroe, you must see this."
Sienna Monroe felt a tightness in her chest, imdiately guessing what it was about, looking up from a catalog file, feigning a puzzled expression, "What?"
As soon as she spoke, Nora Joyce had already extended the phone before her.
Her gaze focused, and she saw a sowhat familiar photo.
Sienna Monroe instantly furrowed her brows, her eyes turning icy.
As expected.
In the photo, Sebastian Prescott’s figure was sowhat blurry, with a ghosting effect caused by his fast pace, but the outline of his face was clear. His hands were slightly extended, possibly due to the angle, making it seem like he was about to embrace her.
The photo indeed was posted using Stella Yates’ account, in a group with 36 mbers.
The group was called "Chosen Workers."
She wasn’t part of this group.
Below the photo, Stella Yates posted a text, sounding very much like her usual manner of speaking, "Ah, folks, I discovered an amazing secret, oh my!"
Two familiar nas responded below: "Wow, what’s going on? Is that the curator? Who’s the guy? He’s pretty handso."
"This secret is too big; I can’t handle it."
Sienna Monroe didn’t scroll further, just looked up at Nora Joyce, puzzled, "What is this group?"
Nora Joyce flashed a trace of embarrassnt, "It’s a group for two curating teams, exhibition team, and administration departnt. Vivian Nash pulled in."
Aside from the cleaning and security departnts, the museum has just over sixty people in total.
This group, encompasses about half of the museum’s employees, including several very important and active departnts within the institution.
There were twenty to thirty unread ssages in the chat box’s bottom right corner.
With a light tap of her finger, those eye-catching words ca into her view.
"No way, the curator and Mr. Sinclair have always been so loving."
"But why do I feel the guy in the photo looks more handso than Mr. Sinclair? Ah, help, where’s my secretary? Secretary! I need all his information."
"I just don’t see the curator as soone who would cheat."
Followed by a ssage from Vivian Nash: "@Stella Yates what are you posting! The man is soone I know; he’s a friend of Sienna’s, not what you think. Caleb Sinclair is so good to Sienna; she could never do anything to betray Caleb Sinclair, she’s not that kind of person! None of you should talk nonsense!"
Sienna Monroe suddenly laughed.
She hadn’t even labeled Caleb Sinclair and Vivian Nash already, but Vivian Nash had pushed her into the whirlpool of infidelity first.
Vivian Nash’s remarks seed to defend her.
But wasn’t it also a way of taking a step back to assert sothing?
With a cold face, she said, "Go get the surveillance from the corridor in the exhibition team, from 4:13 to 4:23, I want to see exactly who took the photos!"
Nora Joyce paused, then nodded, "Okay, I’ll go now."
Sienna Monroe closed the file before her, drank so water to moisten her throat, and got up to leave the office.
When she arrived at the curating team’s workspace, she happened to encounter Stella Yates carrying a stack of newly printed papers, greeting her with a smile, "Curator."
Sienna Monroe’s cold gaze lightly fell on her face.
Stella Yates was a recent graduate intern at the art museum, not yet officially employed.
She personally recruited her; the girl is pretty, cheerful and lively, very talkative, and excels professionally.
Just as she was about to speak, a figure suddenly jumped out, blocking her way.
"Stella Yates, you’ve gone too far! How could you post such photos and spread rumors, tarnishing Sienna’s reputation in the group? How will everyone in the museum view her?!"
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