Chapter 473 Ishara's Ploy
Melanie pulled her aside and nodded towards Winnie's office, "When I arrived, I saw Ishara sneak into your office. The door was ajar, and she hasn't come out yet. Not many colleagues have made it in yet..."
There was a loaded pause in Melanie's voice.
"What is she doing in my office?" Winnie's brows knitted together, "Yesterday’s plans are all in there."
"Just thought of that, huh? she came unprepared yesterday, seems like she was ready to just snatch something on the fly?"
Melanie’s voice dripped with icy sarcasm as she watched vigilantly, "I didn't want to walk in without you being here."
Winnie nodded, clutching her bag as she made her way directly to her office before pushing the door open.
The office was cramped. Ishara stood with her back to the door, leaning over Winnie's desk, rifling through the papers strewn across it.
Suddenly, Ishara found a document, flipped it open, squinted her eyes toward the door and murmured under her breath with a self-satisfied cadence, "This is it... anyhow, Lawrence has also got my back..."
Seeing Ishara's 'thieving' intent and the smug whispers, Melanie’s anger flared. She lunged forward from behind Winnie and interrogated with a mocking sneer, "Manager Nelson, what exactly are you doing? Is that the new plan drafted by the assistant manager in your hands?"
Startled by Melanie’s voice, Ishara froze.
Slowly, she turned around, her eyes widened upon seeing Winnie, then with a sudden jerk, she flung the document, using her body to block the view of the desk and frantically hid something behind her, "Winnie, I wasn't..."
"You weren't what?
Barging into the assistant manager's office first thing in the morning—were you hoping for a peek at the competition's plans, or maybe to plagiarize them on the way out?"
Melanie stormed in and snatched the document Ishara had discarded and tried to hide.
A white folder, labeled "Planning Proposal," the very one Jesse had drafted just yesterday!
"I didn't... Winnie, give it back to me!" Ishara's face flashed with panic.
Her eyes reddened instantly, while she moved to grab it back.
Melanie's assistant, along with a few colleagues, gathered at the door, rushing to Melanie's aid.
Melanie lifted the folder, squinting, "Give it back? So you can destroy the evidence and claim you didn't plagiarize? Manager Nelson, don't forget, there are cameras in the assistant manager's office. You think because Mr. Rodriguez is backing you, it doesn't matter if you can't produce your own plans. You think you can just waltz into the assistant manager's office in broad daylight and steal her work, and he'll cover for you, is that it?"
To Melanie, it all made sense now why Ishara was so relaxed yesterday, chatting away over her latte,
completely unconcerned with the tight deadline.
She had evidently decided to steal all along.
If she made off with the plans, and two identical copies were submitted, with Lawrence's protection, who could tell the original?
Melanie shot a chilling glance at Winnie, nearly certain in her gut that Ishara was boldly there to plagiarize.
"I didn't steal anything, it's not like that, Winnie..." Ishara's voice trembled as tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes flickering with panic as she sought Winnie's, "Please, let me explain, Winnie..."
"Does Manager Nelson really think today's surveillance footage is as dismissible as yesterday's? Or do you believe that everyone who saw you sneak into the assistant manager's office and rifle through her planning documents is blind? If you've got an explanation, give it in front of the company's executives. Winnie, let's call the higher-ups over and show them what Manager Nelson has done!"
As Melanie recalled yesterday's incident and saw Ishara attempting the same trick again today, thinking she could get away with it, something cold settled in her heart—she was determined to expose her!
"No, don't! Winnie, don't alert upper management, it's a minor issue, really not worth causing such a fuss..." Ishara attempted to approach, but suddenly cut off by a fit of coughing, her face flushed red as she hunched over the desk, gasping for air as if she were about to cough up a lung.
"Cut the act." Melanie had seen through her tactics since they were kids.
Her desperate attempts to stop Winnie spoke volumes—it was the panic of a guilty conscience.
Melanie didn't hesitate as she pulled out her phone.
"Really, there's no need..." Ishara's face turned ashen, almost purplish. She clutched her chest, fighting for breath.
Winnie frowned, still sorting through the facts in her mind while noting Ishara's distressed state. If something were to happen to Ishara in her own office, it would be difficult to explain. She stepped forward to support Ishara, intending to check her pulse as well.
She had to find out if this woman was really sick or just faking it!
But as Winnie reached out to help her, Ishara dodged at the last moment, casting a quick glance at the office door.
The corner of her mouth curled into a fleeting smirk. Suddenly, she pitched towards the floor in the direction of Winnie's intended support. Winnie hadn't even reacted when Ishara's already burned ankle got viciously gashed by the cabinet corner—blood started spurting instantly. "Ah! Winnie, I know you're upset, but please don't treat me this way..."
Winnie was taken aback, still trying to regain her footing when she was suddenly sideswiped by a powerful force. Her spine crashed against the sharp edge of the desk!
The pain was excruciating!
Lawrence R. burst in through the office doorway, reacting hastily to Ishara's scream and inadvertently colliding with Winnie.
He saw Ishara on the floor in front of Winnie, blood seeping from the burn on her ankle.
The man's brows furrowed deeply, his eyes filled with severe concern.
He had just returned from the hospital in Lymington. Before he came back, his mother lay under an oxygen mask, too weak to speak. She wanted to say goodbye to her son but didn't have the strength; she was severely anemic and in desperate need of a blood transfusion.
And there was Ishara, bleeding!
A jolt of alarm went through Lawrence as he saw her. His eyes grew cold and sharp as he rushed over to her and carefully propped her up. "Ishara, are you alright?" he asked, concern and tension chiseling his voice into an icy sharpness that left Winnie feeling frozen in place.
He didn't even glance at Winnie, as if she was invisible to him, forcefully pushing her away. Winnie gasped, a spine-numbing pain shooting right to the core of her heart.
Her cheeks paled, her lips clenched bloodlessly.
"I'm fine, Lawrence. Thank goodness you're back. Melanie and Winnie—they, they wrongfully accused me..." Ishara clung to Lawrence's sleeve, weeping, her face pale from blood loss and her coughs, racking her body.
She lay there alone, with no one to help her.
When he entered, he had found Winnie standing over Ishara with a stern look, Melanie imposingly by her side, along with an assistant. People crowded the doorway, the scene telling a clear story of who held power and who was weak.
Lawrence turned his head sharply, eyes filled with an inquisitive accusation, and stared at Winnie. "What did you do to her? Why is she on the floor?"
Winnie met his icy gaze, feeling a frigid cold spreading through her body. She wanted to scoff, but the pain made even breathing difficult.
Melanie, seeing Winnie's ghastly pale face, suddenly noticed the blood stain spreading on the back of her white blouse from where she had hit the edge of the desk. "Winnie, are you alright? You're bleeding!" Melanie exclaimed with urgency.
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