Chapter 345

Samuel Rivers lounged in his study at Silver Moon Estate, one hand flipping through a foreign novel while the other cradled a steaming cup of espresso.

The afternoon light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany desk.

Oliver Kingsley, his ever-dutiful secretary, stood nearby, clearing his throat before speaking. "Sir, regarding those viral videos and posts about Evelyn Whitmore—it's obvious she's been framed. Should we issue a public statement to clear her name?"

Though Oliver couldn't fathom why Evelyn had been so dismissive toward Samuel, he couldn't deny she'd saved the elderly man by Yonder River. Without her intervention, that reckless influencer would have caused serious harm.

Samuel's sharp eyes darkened as he recalled Evelyn's defiant gaze. He took a slow sip of espresso before replying, "She's Nathaniel Grayson's woman. If anything happens, it's his problem to handle."

Oliver exhaled, realizing the truth in Samuel's words. The Grayson heir was more than capable of protecting his own. I must be overthinking this.

Setting his cup down with deliberate grace, Samuel added, "Our priority is tracing the source of that video. I want answers."

Oliver hesitated. "We've already investigated, sir, but hit a dead end. We confiscated the influencer's phone immediately—she couldn’t have backed it up. The device has been in your possession ever since, except when handed to the police for evidence."

A flicker of suspicion crossed Samuel's face. "So someone accessed it without my knowledge?"

Oliver shifted uncomfortably. "It... seems to be the only explanation."

Samuel snapped the book shut. "That phone was locked in my study drawer. Whoever took it would’ve had to break in."

Oliver frowned. "The only person who dares enter your study uninvited is Miss Amelia, but surely she wouldn’t—"

Before he could finish, the door swung open.

Amelia Rivers breezed in, balancing a delicate box of pastries. "Samuel! I brought you Fortuna’s famous custard tarts!"

A rare smile touched Samuel’s lips. Despite his aversion to sweets, he indulged her, taking a small bite.

Amelia beamed. "Well? Do you like them?"

He humored her with a nod. "Delicious. You have excellent taste."

Her smile widened, but as the sugary flavor lingered, Samuel studied her with sudden intensity.

"Amelia," he began slowly, "have you been in my study recently? Did you take anything from my drawer?"

Her eyes widened in innocent confusion. "No? Why would I?"

Samuel’s gaze sharpened. "Are you aware of the online smear campaign against Evelyn Whitmore?"

A shadow of guilt flickered across Amelia’s face before she schooled her expression. "I—I heard some gossip at lunch, but I haven’t looked into it. Why?"

Samuel’s voice turned icy. "Are you certain you don’t know anything?"

Tears welled in Amelia’s eyes. "You’re accusing me?" Her voice cracked. "Samuel, how could you doubt me?"