“What? Even the police can't touch them? I seriously suspect they are spies bought out by some foreign country.”
Mira Mercer had to admire their linguistic gymnastics. Just like that, the accusations against Lydia Fontaine and her group had escalated again.
“I'm not the spy! She is!”
Lydia’s accomplice panicked, turning against her in a heartbeat.
The woman felt incredibly unlucky today. Lydia had invited them out for lunch, but it turned out she just wanted muscle for a fight.
From the start, she had only thrown a few insults on Lydia's behalf, and now the police were about to haul her away. It was deeply humiliating; she had a reputation to uphold, after all.
And now she was being called a foreign spy? Had Lydia actually committed corporate espionage? That wasn't a light accusation.
If she got dragged down as an accomplice, how many years would she get? Would she be locked up for life?
“She lied to us today. She said she was treating us to lunch, but the moment she got here, she started a riot.”
Another friend immediately chimed in to save herself.
“We had no idea what was going on from the very beginning. We never helped her do anything illegal.”
She couldn't shoulder a criminal charge either. It was time to cut ties.
However, her defense only seemed to cement the rumor that Lydia was a corporate spy.
Even the customer who had casually thrown out the accusation was stunned.
They had just been running their mouth—were they actually right?
“Officers, we were tricked into coming here. You have to believe us,” Lydia’s friend pleaded, desperate to avoid the station and the crippling fines that would inevitably follow.
“Exactly, she played us,” the other friend eagerly agreed.
Fragile friendships meant nothing when jail time was on the line; she wasn't going to take the fall for this.
“But you were just cursing at the staff right alongside her.”


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