Who the hell is Mr. Fryer? Angelo hasn't heard of most of these jokers before, and now there is a Mr. Fryer? And this Lucy Lumalabas is quite a piece of work. If that is who Isabella has on her side, he doesn't have much to worry about—not that he ever did. He has been exonerated since Isabella reappeared. Now all he has got to do is wiggle out of this sexual harassment business, have the Board reappoint him back as CEO, after his brief, they'll call it, 'leave'. The guy posing as Vincent Duke will disappear back to whatever Off-Broadway show he was working on before they hired him to be Vincent's stand-in. Maybe they should keep him on a retainer in case something like this happens again and they need the public persona to make a cameo. What a farce. 

Angelo looks at Isabella. He understands how he could let all this happen, and he hates himself for it. Here, he prides himself on his discipline and self-control, yet he can't help himself when it comes to her. Is it her beauty, her youth, her purity? There's something about her that defies rational explanation. Maybe the attraction is to that which seems so innocent. Maybe it is about a new start.

The actor playing the role of Vincent Duke is about to speak. He returns his mind to the tribunal. "And you know this Mr. Fryer, Ms. Lumalabas?" 

"Yes sir, I know him, but I have to say," she pauses for a moment, as though she is back peddling, lowers her voice, and says, " I wouldn't trust the man. He said certain things against you, Mr. Duke." 

"Even if he did, that really isn't relevant to this issue, Ms. Lumalabas. Do you think he would come to the defence of this woman here, the one who is accusing my substitute? Can someone find me this Fryer?" 

"He works in Human Resources, sir," Lucy says. 

The man named Peter adds, "I know him. He is new in H.R. He seems like a nice enough fellow. I never heard him say anything negative about anyone before." 

Lucy's jaw drops, and she glances to both sides, as though she is looking around for a way out. "He is most villainous, I tell you," she mumbles. 

The actor plays it tough. "Well, until such time as this Fryer shows himself and reveals some hidden evidence, Isabella can be considered to be fabricating lies in order to bring down Mr. Lord, and this company. To what end, I cannot guess, but I suspect that our own Ms. Lumalabas might, in fact, know more than she is letting on—perhaps she is even part of a conspiracy with Ms. Measures." He points to Isabella. "Get her out of here for now. We will want to hear her confession later, after we locate this Fryer." 

Two security men escort Isabella through the back door. Angelo feels relieved, yet, at the same time, wishes he could be in that room with her, just for a minute or two. He wouldn't hurt her. He would apologize. 

Charles Escalus stands. There is a feeling of adjournment in the room, but Angelo knows it is only a recess. There will be more business ahead. Angelo notices that one of the men on the panel—he sees his name is Pompey—the man who never said anything throughout the proceedings but only looked at his phone, now stands and quickly exits the room. 

Charles motions to Angelo to approach. In a whisper, he says, "you are not smiling Angelo. Are you not amused by the vanity of these wretched fools? Come, take a seat up here my friend, you can be the judge now." 

Angelo smiles. It looks like they're good again. A minor bump in the road to prosperity, but they got over it. Angelo sits in the actor's chair while he stands and calls out to Peter. "Bring in the next witness." 

Angelo's heart jumps. Next witness? What the hell? He looks around to Escalus, then up to the man playing Duke. They are both looking across the room to a woman who enters and approaches the bench. 

He begins to sweat. It is Isabella, yet she came in from the other door. And she is wearing a short plaid skirt—a kilt—a schoolgirl uniform, the same one she wore the night in his bed, the same stockings and white blouse. And she is looking hot, her dirty blonde hair falling seductively in her face, her eyes hid behind large round sunglasses. But it isn't excitement that Angelo is feeling as she saunters towards the riser, it is fear. The panic that is growing within him stems from what she is carrying: a stuffed toy, beige, with big, floppy ears, and a wrinkly, doggy face. 

He realizes now that he is being set up. These are actors, all of them. Fakers. Posers. They are performing a play, here, right now, staging a production in order for him to reveal his guilt. The oldest trick in the book, one he read about in high school somewhere. He will not fall for this sham. How dare they make a mockery of these proceedings? But what he can't figure out is her prop. What the hell is she doing with Mr. Wiggles? 

The actress playing the part of slutty Isabella approaches the stage. The actor playing Duke begins his questioning. 

"Are you the witness?" 

"Yes." 

"Are you an employee of Alpha?" 

"No, sir." 

"Can you remove your glasses please, so we may see your face?" 

"No, not unless my husband asks me." 

"I don't get it. You are married to someone here?" 

"No." 

"Then are you a widow?" 

"No." 

Lucy chimes in, "I think she is a whore." 

Duke turns to her. "Silence that one, before I do it!" 

"Let me explain," the actress says. "He doesn't realize that we are married. There is a signed contract of marriage, agreed upon by both of us years ago, and I have known my husband, yet he does not know that he ever knew me." 

"Know?" 

"Know means know, in the the carnal sense," Lucy chimes. 

Duke, the actor, ignores the chuckles from the room and turns to Angelo. 

"This is not a witness." 

"But I am." The woman continues, "the girl Isabella, who accused Angelo Lord of sexual misconduct, was not with him that night. Angelo was actually with me. He believes that he was with Isabella, but it was, in fact, me he was with." 

"This is ridiculous!" Angelo shouts. "Who are you? Show me your face." 

"As my husband bids me." The woman reaches for her sunglasses and slides them up and over her forehead, pulling back her hair. It is Mariana. 

"Yes, Angelo, this is the face that you once looked upon, the hand that you promised in marriage, the body that you once knew, and knew the other night in your bed." Mariana holds up the stuffed dog, shaking it. "And there is proof, on here." 

Angelo collapses back in his chair. Before him is his ex-lover, his former fiancee, the woman he always knew should have been his wife. They would have been so good together. And God, she looks amazing. He loves the blonde hair. He just wants to end all this nonsense, jump up, take her by the hand, and run out of here together. They would figure all this out, the two of them. But, instead, she is standing before him, with blackmail in her hand. This whole mess is unbelievable! 

He turns to Escalus, ignoring the actor Vincent. "Charles, these women are no more than instruments working for a greater power. There is someone else behind all this, using them to destroy the Alpha empire. They want our power." 

Escalus looks at Duke, then says to Angelo, "Fine, I'll leave it in your hands to get to the bottom of this. If what you say is true, I really pity the person or people behind this, once they face your justice." Then, to Mariana, "I know that what happened in the past must have been difficult for you, but you can't let your emotions get the better of you. Even if what you say is true, Mariana, it does nothing more than show that you are conspiring against him. You really should drop this charade right now. Take a seat." 

He points to the empty chair, the one Angelo was in, the chair of the accused. Angelo, still in disbelief at the entire scene unfolding before him, watches Mariana sit down and cross her legs. He can't help but notice. He knows her alright. The bed trick, that makes sense. The smell of her hair, the feel of her body, it was all so familiar. So that was what bothered him that night; it was knowing that there was something about Isabella that drove him to be that way with her. Because it wasn't Isabella, it was Mariana. If only he had known that she still wanted him, if only he had known it was her. If only. 

Escalus speaks to the smart ass Filipino woman, Lucy. "Tell me more about this Fryer, the man who you think can help shed some light on this. You said that you know him to be a dishonest person?"

"'Honest in nothing but his clothes', as they say. Fryer said slanderous things about Mr. Duke. I am not sure if I would believe his testimony." 

"Well, I look forward to challenging his story then." Escalus points to the back of the room. 

The back door opens and Isabella is escorted back into the room. The girl looks pissed: her hair disheveled, her brows furrowed. From the other door, a man enters, accompanied by two security officers and the guy they call Pompey. By their movements it is clear that the security guards are not here to prevent his escape, as much as they are to provide the man with protection. Angelo can't yet distinguish his appearance, but it is clear that Isabella knows him. Her mouth drops with the shock of recognition. So she does know this man, the elusive Mr. Fryer. Angelo isn't clear whether it is delight or fear that have widened Isabella's eyes. 

But as Fryer walks closer, now that the man is front and center, does Angelo's own blood rush to his face. He feels the flames hit him, like he has been doused in fire. He is burning. Standing before him, the true identity of the mysterious Mr. Fryer is revealed. Angelo is staring at the face of the real Vincent Duke, CEO of Alpha Incorporated.