Georgia's tears spilled instantly, running mascara tracks down her cheeks. "Ms. Matthews, I know it's hard to accept, but it's the truth! That night… Mr. Sawyer got me drunk. When I woke up…" Her breath hitched. "He said he truly liked me…"
"Oh?" I arched a brow. "Dominic Sawyer told you personally that he likes you?"
She nodded vigorously, pulling a stack of photos from her bag and fanning them across my desk. "Here is the evidence. If I'm lying, may heaven strike me down!"
I picked up the top photo.
The angles were calculated—deliberately tricky. But Dominic's profile was unmistakable. Georgia pressed against his side. The timestamp on the hotel surveillance screenshot was clear: one night, three months ago.
"The photos are real," I admitted.
Alex's grin split wide. "See? I told you—"
"But the child isn't my husband's." My voice dropped to ice. "Georgia, take your people and leave. I can treat today's scene as if it never happened. But if you continue to cause trouble, I will call the police."
The livestreamer's shriek cut through the room. "We're the ones who should call the police! Ms. Matthews, your husband forced himself on a college student! You're an accomplice!"
The chat exploded: