Innocent scandal with Mr PR のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

The Deputy Manager of PR, Mr. Brooks, walked briskly beside me as he led me through the department. He was polite, but his curious glances made it obvious he already knew my name—and the scandal attached to it. Anyway, it would be strange if staff in Prime Entertainment's PR department were unaware of my scandal. After all, it started in this very building. "This will be your desk," he said, gesturing to a small workstation near the windows. "You'll mainly assist Mr. Roland with scheduling, drafting statements, and organizing his reports. If you need anything, let me know." I thanked him and sat down. The office wasn't large barely twenty staff in total—but the energy inside it was buzzing. Whispers floated through the air the moment my bag touched the desk. "That's her." "The girl who stole Emily Greenwood's song…" "Why would Mr. Roland hire her?" "Maybe she's doing… something for him." A quiet snicker. "Doing something? What could she possibly do for him?" someone

Gina's POV I didn't open the file until I reached my desk. My hands were too unsteady. My heartbeat too loud. Everyone in the PR department watched me walk back in—some openly, some pretending to glance through documents. Their gossip from earlier still hung faintly in the air, like smoke that refused to clear. I sat down slowly and placed the file on my desk. It felt like a verdict. A few seconds passed… Then someone whispered, not quietly enough: "She's back? They didn't fire her?" They must have noticed I wasn't packing my things. A scoff followed. "How is that possible? Maybe she's just putting on airs." "I saw her come back with a case file," another person murmured. "Could she have been called in just to get a task?" someone said in disbelief. "Who knows? Mr. Roland is related to the CEO," someone added with a bitter sigh. I ignored them—or at least, I tried to. My fingers slipped under the flap of the folder and lifted it open. At the top of the

Gina’s POV The moment my mother’s breathing settled into a soft, steady rhythm, Roland nodded toward the door. I slipped out quietly, closing it behind me so the latch wouldn’t click. Mum had insisted I go home to sleep since I resumed work at Prime Entertainment. She said only when I rested properly would I be able to work well during the day. Although we got a single-person ward for her, it wasn’t VIP, so I couldn’t really rest well there. At first, I wanted to stay with her, but insisting would only agitate her, so I obeyed. The corridor lights hummed faintly, the long hallway empty except for us. “I’ll take you home,” he said as we walked toward the exit. I blinked. “You don’t have to. I can—” “I said I’ll take you home.” His voice was firm. No room for argument. I sighed but followed him out of the hospital. The cool night air brushed against my skin, and only then did I realize how exhausted I was. My legs felt heavy, my thoughts scattered. Inside the car, Roland

Emily’s POV “What are we going to do now?” I turned to Ethan on the bed. He had promised that he had a way of making sure Gina would lose her reputation and could only write and sell her songs to me, but now she had gotten employed in the PR department. He had also failed to use his influence within the company to fire her. Actually, I had known that Ethan liked me for a while, but I had no interest at first. After all, as an artist, I always wanted to marry a very wealthy businessman—one who could support my career with his money and influence. But finding out he was dating Gina, I suddenly noticed that although he was an artist, he was quite popular and had resources in his hands. Moreover, his family was quite rich too. This made me realize my mistake, so I started trying to get his attention. Since Gina and her mother came to live in our house after my uncle’s death, I had always gotten everything I wanted—toys, dresses, and even snacks her mother got her. Aunt Grace thou

Gina’s POV The next morning, I arranged to meet Miss Bloom at a private lounge near the company. I specifically asked her to come with both her assistant and her manager. If my assumptions were correct, then the presence of everyone involved was necessary. Miss Bloom arrived first, dressed simply, her sunglasses pulled low over her eyes. Her assistant followed closely behind her, while her manager walked a few steps back, his phone pressed to his ear as if he could not bear to be fully present. After brief greetings, we took our seats. I did not waste time on pleasantries. “I’ve made progress,” I said calmly. Miss Bloom’s shoulders stiffened. “Progress?” she repeated, hope and anxiety flickering across her face. I knew she never trusted me to come up with any results, but her fate in the company and mine were tied to this. “Yes.” I folded my hands on the table. “I managed to get in touch with someone from the poster’s side.” The words had the desired effect. Her assistant’s ey