I Married the President

Chapter 395: Chapter 395: First Collaboration

[To the person above, Claire Sinclair isn’t a mistress. She’s just the spokesperson for them, don’t get it twisted!]

[Going off-topic, but Claire Sinclair said in her last post that her lover bought her a place in Evergreen Garden. Who the hell is her lover? How did they even manage to buy property in Evergreen Garden?!]

...

As it turned out, every additional word from Claire Sinclair only served to embolden the online trolls and marketing accounts.

Before long, Claire Sinclair was trending on social media again—#WhoIsClaireSinclairsLover?

It was another topic manufactured by some irrelevant marketing account, alleging that Claire Sinclair’s lover was a high-ranking official who was already married, making Claire a bona fide mistress.

The discussion under the topic was white-hot, and online users launched a new wave of attacks against Claire Sinclair.

Unwilling to explain, and knowing it would be pointless anyway, Claire Sinclair simply changed her profile picture to a crown.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

On the third day, Tristan Tanner finally apprehended the remaining rapists. Yvonne Judd’s stepsister, Sheila Judd, was also arrested.

After the police finished their interrogation, Claire Sinclair requested an interview, which was scheduled for the next day.

As for Harrison Lynch’s death, it seemed Tristan Tanner had already identified the real killer. However, due to the sensitive nature of the case, the details couldn’t be made public. He couldn’t even tell Claire Sinclair, merely instructing her to report it as an accidental car crash.

Claire Sinclair’s preparations were nearly complete. Now, she needed to find a partner.

She picked up her phone and sent Henry Hartwell a message: "Teacher Hartwell, I want to collaborate with a TV station. Could you help me get in touch with one?"

Journalist Henry Hartwell: "The TV stations aren’t willing to get involved. I’ll work with you."

’Teacher Hartwell wants to work with me???’

’This is a first!’

In Claire Sinclair’s mind, Henry Hartwell was a god-tier professional, an absolute master of his craft. Collaborating with him would definitely make her feature story even more perfect!

’This is amazing! Haha...’

Claire excitedly replied: "Teacher Hartwell, I’ll send you my plan first. Let me know if it works. If not, I can revise it."

Henry Hartwell: "Okay."

Claire Sinclair immediately sent over the interview outline. A few minutes later, Henry Hartwell replied: "This is mostly fine. What equipment do you need? I’ll bring it tomorrow."

Claire: "Actually, my original idea was to have a TV station produce a video special while we handle the digital version. But since they won’t cooperate, can our agency produce the video special?"

Journalist Henry Hartwell: "We can. We’ll discuss it tomorrow when I get there."

Claire: "Okay!"

–

「The next day.」

Claire Sinclair and Henry Hartwell had agreed to meet at Police Headquarters. Both had an exceptional sense of punctuality and arrived half an hour early.

First, they got some of the case files cleared for public release from Tristan Tanner. Then, they conducted brief video interviews with a few officers. Finally, they interviewed Tristan Tanner, asking him to give a simple overview of the case.

They spent about two hours at Police Headquarters, and by the time they were done, it was their lunch break.

They ordered takeout at the station, and as soon as they finished eating, they rushed over to the detention center.

They first interviewed a few of the young men, and the last person they interviewed was Yvonne Judd’s stepsister, Sheila Judd.

This was the first time Claire Sinclair had seen the girl. She was only eighteen and a half, but she looked very mature. Because she was about to begin her sentence, her hair had been cut short. Still, you could tell she used to have bleached hair, as the tips were still yellow. She had at least seven or eight ear piercings and another on the bridge of her nose.

It was clear the girl had been very rebellious. Her eyes held none of the innocence of a young girl, nor any remorse for what she’d done—only defensiveness and disgust toward this stranger.