Chapter 438
Chapter 438:
Witnessing Hertha’s flawed logic made Fernanda think, even if she forgave her this time, it didn’t ensure Hertha wouldn’t repeat her mistake.
Besides, Fernanda had never intended to completely forgive her in the first place.
She never considered herself a saint and certainly wasn’t about to shoulder blame meant for others.
Cristian observed Fernanda’s stoic face and immediately understood what she was planning.
He turned to Vinson decisively, saying, “Your company needs to release a statement now.”
Vinson nodded, his response swift. “Consider it done.”
At this, Hertha’s crying abruptly stopped. She stared at Cristian and Vinson, her expression one of shock. Could it be that, in her hour of distress, these men felt no compassion?
“Mr. Turner, I’m begging you, just one more opportunity,” Hertha pleaded as she fell to her knees before Vinson, gripping his legs and looking up at him earnestly. “Given our long-standing relationship, please cover for me this once, won’t you?”
Vinson’s gaze on Hertha was cool and distant; her distress only seemed to irritate him.
“Did you not come to me first?” Vinson replied sharply. “You offered yourself to get what I had, and we both agreed it was an even exchange, didn’t we? What else is there between us? Imagine the shock of your admirers if they discovered their beloved idol was actually a…”
“Enough!” Hertha’s voice shattered the silence, cutting off Vinson. She was aware that Cristian and Fernanda were still present, and she couldn’t allow Vinson to speak so crudely.
It was the last bit of respect she hoped to preserve.
Hertha stammered, unsure of how to defend herself. Her entire body shook uncontrollably, as if a chill had taken over from her toes to her scalp.
She was at a loss for words, unable to clear her name.
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Whether it was the extended period of crying or overwhelming grief, dizziness overtook her, and her surroundings began to blur. Suddenly, her strength failed her, and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Vinson glanced at Hertha, slumped on the floor, his face betraying no emotion.
Turning to Cristian and Fernanda, he said, “I’ll arrange a ride to the hospital for her. You both should head out now.”
Cristian nodded in agreement, his voice firm. “Stay in touch.” He grabbed his coat from the nearby rack and exited the apartment. The chill of the weather bit at his skin as a cold breeze whispered down Fernanda’s neck, causing her to huddle in on herself a little more.
Suddenly, she felt the weight of Cristian’s coat on her shoulders. His gray shirt fluttered in the breeze, giving him a delicate, slender appearance, as though he were a willow swaying gracefully in the wind.
.
.
.