“But Mr. Woods, there are already videos online of Fiona checking contestants’ pulses during the competition today.”
Every word dripped with suspicion.
Everyone in the room knew about Jackson and Fiona’s history. They weren’t together anymore, sure—but who could say Fiona wasn’t still influencing him? With looks like hers and a reputation like International Glam’s, it was hard for anyone to believe she’d built it all on her own without any tricks up her sleeve. Who would buy that?
No one here was naïve. They wanted answers.
“She knows medicine,” Jackson said coolly, not missing a beat. He shot a look at the man beside him. “Go get Ms. Fiona to come take a look.”
He didn’t even have to finish before the door swung open. The organizers came in, and Fiona was right there with them.
“No need to call me. I’m here,” Fiona said, her eyes full of challenge and just a hint of mockery.
They really didn’t waste any time throwing accusations around.
“I’ve already told the organizers about your situation,” Fiona said, walking in and dropping onto the couch like she owned the place, lounging back with a confident, almost wicked ease. “My team had the same symptoms. It’s probably from you all going out to the beach last night and catching a chill. I’ve already called for a doctor.”
The organizer forced a smile—caught between Jackson and Fiona, he wasn’t about to get on the wrong side of either of them.
“Hold on. We never even left the hotel last night,” one contestant shot back, voice sharp. “We grew up by the sea. You really think a little ocean breeze would get to us?”
“Yeah, we’re not clueless tourists who’ve never seen the ocean,” another added, making the implication obvious.
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