"But nobody believes me," Ivy’s voice was tinged with dejection.
After all, they had been filming together for quite some time, becoming a makeshift family of sorts.
Yet not a single soul on set seemed to trust her, plunging her into a well of loneliness.
"I thought at least Colton would have my back. Maybe I was fooling myself."
Was it her? Was there something about her that just didn't inspire trust?
Balfour reached over and ruffled her hair until it was a tousled mess.
"Why are you stressing over this, Ivy? Does it really matter if those folks believe you or not?"
To his surprise, she nodded emphatically.
"Of course it matters. It's about feeling like someone's in your corner. I've been nothing but nice to them, why is this happening?"
Deep down, she knew the truth. Even if someone did believe her innocence, it was unlikely they'd step forward amid a sea of doubt.
They were just cogs in the machine, too insignificant to risk their necks for her.
Especially since the person in the surveillance footage was wearing clothes identical to hers, making it nearly impossible to clear her name.
"You know as well as I do," Balfour said, his hand casually steering the wheel as he shot her concerned glances, "that even if someone thinks you're innocent, they don't have the clout to speak up for you."
The more Balfour spoke, the redder Ivy's face got. She hadn't realized he'd been paying such close attention to her, even to the details of her figure.
"What? You're not telling me you've been secretly keeping tabs on this stuff?"
Balfour scoffed, as if she were underestimating him.
"I dabbled in art, knew a bit about human anatomy. How else would I remember such specific details about your body?"
Ivy's face went from pink to crimson. She quickly stopped him, "Okay, okay, I get it. You're some kind of body sketching savant. Let's drop it!"
Unbeknownst to herself, her mood had lightened considerably with his words.
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