Becca's patience snapped, and in a fit of blind rage, she raised her hand, ready to strike.
But Anne was faster. Her fingers locked around Becca's wrist in an iron grip, stopping the slap before it could land.
"You still have the audacity to accuse me, even after being exposed?" Anne hissed. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she shoved Becca away, making her stumble back.
"I didn't do it," Becca shouted with desperation. "It's you—it must be you."
"What is this commotion about?" An authoritative voice sliced through the chaos like a blade.
Denis's sharp gaze landed on Becca, his expression dark with irritation. His presence alone sent a shiver of silence through the crowd.
Becca turned to him and pleaded frantically, clutching at whatever last shred of hope she had, "Sir, please—you have to believe me. It's Anne's doing. She has the project details. How could I have leaked them when—"
