“What the heck are you on about, Mr. Sutton?” Freya looked at Kieran with wide, innocent eyes. “I was enjoying a nice, relaxing shower here, and you barged in out of nowhere. How is this suddenly my fault?”
“You...you...” Kieran was at a loss for words as he gazed at Freya.
Wrapped in a towel, her long, straight legs were exposed, and her damp hair cascaded over one shoulder, droplets of water glistening on her collarbone. What an utterly tempting sight.
Feeling Kieran's gaze, Freya quickly pulled her towel up a bit more and asked, "Is there something you need, Mr. Sutton?"
“Why did you rip the maid’s uniform?”
Confronted with Kieran’s question, Freya feigned ignorance. “Rip what? Mr. Sutton, what on earth are you talking about?”
“Cut the act, Freya.” Kieran’s tone was icy. “You tore the uniform for what? To defy me? Or was it to catch my attention on purpose?”
“Mr. Sutton, I honestly have no clue what you mean.” Freya feigned confusion. “I’ve never seen this maid’s uniform you’re talking about. If you’re trying to pin some crime on me, at least make it believable, won’t you?”
Seeing Freya adamantly deny everything, Kieran scoffed, “Is that so? Come with me then.”
He grabbed Freya’s arm and started leading her downstairs, her wrist throbbing from his grip, causing her to frown unconsciously.
Downstairs, they found Una still picking up pieces of the shredded uniform.
“It wasn’t me who ripped this,” Freya stated plainly upon seeing the clothes.
“Lies! It was you!” Unwilling to let Freya off the hook, Una immediately turned to Kieran, “Mr. Sutton, Ms. Dawson cut up these clothes right before me! I can vouch for it!”
“And why should your word be trusted? You’re accusing me. Your testimony could hardly be considered impartial.” Freya responded calmly and deliberately, “Even if you want to prove I cut the dress, shouldn’t there be another witness?”
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