Chapter 15: These Are High-Quality Imitations
Greta flinched, her eyes jerking toward them, mortified.
Opening and closing her mouth, she was at a loss of what to say for several seconds before the other Z-listers began chiming in in agreement.
“Yes! You didn’t think to confirm if this person was truly the president before you called someone!”
Beside them, James was first astounded.
The president wasn’t the president? Really?
Still confused, and at a loss on how they came to this conclusion, he raised his eyes toward Micah, then it suddenly made sense.
That’s right. The Chairman wouldn’t just be rude to the president. So he must’ve figured out she wasn’t who she claimed to be.
How did he miss it? The others also seemed to have realized this a while ago, but he hadn’t?
But that didn’t matter right now. Someone had to pay for this and it couldn’t be him.
Eager to shift blame, he moved his gaze toward Greta and pursed his lips disapprovingly, “I must say, that was a really careless move from you.”
“We almost let a swindler into the MD’s office because you saw her with expensive things and assumed she was who she claimed to be. This is the most careless I’ve seen you!”
Greta was dumbfounded and couldn’t find her tongue for a long time.
Though they hadn’t planned it, it was a unanimously agreement to heap the blame on her.
It also seemed right given that everything started because of her.
Unable to think of any words to defend herself, she simply gnashed her teeth in silence and clenched her fists nervously.
This was it. This was the end of her three-year career.
All this while she’d dined and mingled with D- and E-listers thanks to her brother’s position. Maybe in a couple years, she would’ve moved to doing so with B and C-listers.
Unfortunately, Aaron wasn’t even worth mentioning in the eyes of Micah Dunlap.
She messed up this much, surely Micah would terminate her contract with AH Pictures. If that happened, every artist she knew would hear about it in less than a day.
With something like that spreading, no entertainment company would want to take her in.
Ignoring the sight of her trembling in fear, the Z-listers sighed.
“The janitor was right all along. If she hadn’t stalled and kept the impostor here, who knows what she would’ve taken from the MD’s office.”
“Scary. We would’ve all been punished for the mistake of one person. The janitor really is god-sent.”
As two of them mumbled under their breath, the others snapped their eyes toward Amber.
The woman who had been enjoying the show with twinkling eyes was instantly disappointed at being dragged into the limelight again.
Even Micah followed their gaze until his eyes landed on her and his brows furrowed thoughtfully.
“I know she was just jealous of this woman for saying she was the president, but thank goodness she was envious,” another Z-lister said.
Amber merely shrugged and said nothing.
Seeing this, Greta gritted her teeth and eager to save face, lashed out at the Z-listers irritably, “Pinning the blame on me is just too much! Every one of you also agreed she was decked in luxury goods from head to too and as such had to be the president!”
Amber immediately scrunched up her nose, choosing to point out, “Actually, I noticed everything she has on is fake. All imitations.”
The impostor’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Impossible!
Her guy was good. No, the very best. He made every counterfeit she’d ever brought him into flawless original.
She even sold a few in the black market as originals and was never found out.
So how did a mere janitor manage to see through it?
On the other hand, Greta glared at Amber hostilely, resisting the urge to scoff.
More than anyone here, this woman knew how crazy she was for luxury goods, so saying this so boldly clearly had something to do with Aaron divorcing her.
So she didn’t want to bother with her and turned toward Micah, lowering her head in a bow, “It was an oversight on my part, Chairman Dunlap. But I’m almost certain everything she has on is original without even taking a closer look.”
“My brother runs a production house and buys me things like this all the time, so I know what I’m saying.”
James and the Z-listers naturally fell silent.
They were aware of Greta’s love for luxury goods as well, but this woman already fooled them once, so even if they suspected the items were indeed genuine, no one wanted to speak up.
“Sir, if you don’t believe me, I can have pictures of everything she’s wearing sent to the brands to confirm their authenticity and prove I know my stuff,” Greta grew desperate when she no one backed her up.
Micah stared at her stoically.
“Miss Foster, you who almost let a swindler cost the company a great fortune are asking me to trust your judgement?”
“If anything, Chairman Dunlap, my judgement is better than that of a janitor’s! Give me a minute and I’ll prove it!” she nodded confidently.
Micah first glanced at his wristwatch, then at the door, then nodded for her to go on.
The impostor gritted her teeth, unwilling to let the last scrap of dignity she had left be stripped away. But one look from Micah and the bodyguards held her tighter.
Greta quickly pulled up the staff number for the store she knew and put the call on speaker.
She photographed the shoes, bag, and dress and sent the images. Exactly thirty seconds later, the man’s voice blared from the other end, surprise clear in it.
“Miss Foster, these appear to be high-quality imitations. Where did you get them?”