Chapter 66

Paisley’s hand hovered near the horse’s flank, avoiding a specific spot. "Injecting into a horse's vein here isn't ideal," she explained. "And the horse needs to be calm. Tense muscles mean a lot of fuss." She lightly tapped the avoided spot. The white horse whinnied, startled by the gentle touch. The onlookers gasped—they remembered the horse's earlier wildness.

Paisley parted the horse's thick coat, revealing two tiny puncture wounds. "Proof," she murmured, a faint smile playing on her lips. The caretaker exclaimed, "Wait! Those weren't there before!" These were prize horses, pampered and precious. Such wounds were impossible under normal circumstances.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. "Two wounds? Out of nowhere?" someone questioned.

Paisley turned to Marissa. "Ms. Prescott, care to explain?"

Marissa avoided her gaze, edging closer to Dominick. "I'm the victim!" she mumbled.

Earlier, seeing Paisley's hand near the horse, Marissa had acted. She'd discreetly jabbed the horse, confident the cameras wouldn't capture it clearly. She always had a justification. She hadn't anticipated Paisley's countermove.

Paisley, seemingly unhurried, asked, "Where's your brooch, Ms. Prescott?"

Marissa checked herself. It was gone.

Paisley gestured to the ground. Alexis picked up Marissa's expensive brooch—blood stained the metal. "Marissa..." she whispered.

Grayson stared, his heart sinking. Could he have been wrong about Paisley?

Marissa's face paled. "It must've fallen off when I was thrown," she stammered.

Paisley simply nodded. She'd said enough. Blood tests could prove the source if anyone pushed further, but she didn't bother. Marissa's clumsy scheme had backfired, yet she still had supporters. Paisley cared little for their opinions.