Leona and Crystal's hearts skipped a beat.
Crystal, looking utterly miserable, pleaded, “I don’t know what you mean. We haven’t done anything wrong. Please don’t accuse us unjustly.”
Leona was wiping sweat incessantly. They were both dressed in thick costumes for the play, and with the temperature already soaring, the ring of lights around them felt like an oven, rapidly dehydrating them.
Leona gritted her teeth and said, “Exactly, what could we possibly do? In this crew, we're just small fries, lucky not to be bullied!”
As for that little sabotage, there was no concrete evidence, so as long as they denied everything vehemently, nobody could pin anything on them. Besides, it was just a little mischief, not something that harmed anyone.
Tyrone smirked coldly, “Ha, unjustly accused? So what if I did? I was right there, and yet you dared mess with my woman. If I weren’t around, Quintessa would probably be tormented to death by you lot.”
Suddenly, Tyrone felt that Quintessa wasn’t as tough as she appeared. She never initiated attacks on anyone. Her so-called toughness was nothing but retaliation after being hurt. She was, essentially, a naïve person.
Leona exclaimed, “Mr. York, did Quintessa tell you something? Don’t believe her; that woman is venomous. She can’t stand seeing anyone do better than her. You don’t know, she’s slept with every man in the crew. She got her role by selling her body.”
Tyrone stood up, his eyes filled with disdain as he looked at Leona, “This is actually the first time I’ve heard that a role I secured for my lady was earned through her liaisons.”
With that, Leona fell silent; Crystal bit her lip, looking anxious.
Tyrone glanced at his watch, finding these women hardly worth his time. He said indifferently, “Cherish this. It’s your last show.”
To those around, he commanded, “Make sure they learn their lesson, or nobody’s leaving.”
Watching Tyrone’s retreating back, Crystal, with tears in her eyes, cried out, “Mr. York, Mr. York. I’m sorry. It’s our fault; it’s all on me. Please, spare them. They just wanted to stand up for me. We meant no harm; we never thought it would lead to Quinn getting a heatstroke. Please, forgive us.”
Crystal was whimpering, some tufts of her hair stuck on her cheeks; the fragility made her somewhat alluring.
She seemed to be pleading on behalf of everyone, taking all the blame on herself. Yet, in reality, she implied that the others were merely trying to take it out for her, making it seem as though she was uninvolved.
Tyrone found her act repulsive, a classic case of someone wanting to appear noble, to be the center of attention, longing for what she desired without getting her hands dirty. She manipulated others to achieve her goals while trying to remain detached, a true master of deception, unworthy of staying.
However, Leona was moved by her words; she uttered, “Crystal, it’s not your fault. Stop it. That bitch Quintessa, who among us can stand against her?”
As Tyrone walked away, Leona clenched her teeth in anger, “That bitch, if I’m going down, she’s going down with me.”
Even though it was Tyrone who was punishing them, people often instinctively seek to align with power and avoid conflict. Knowing they couldn’t challenge Tyrone and daring not to face him directly, they redirected their anger towards Quintessa.
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