Sunlight blared over the manicured yard of the Montague estate, spangling through the press vans crowding the long driveway. A pack of reporters chattered animatedly on the gravel, cameras and microphones at the ready. Mansion’s front steps, he stood like Superman at just the right angle for the cameras, grave but theatrically poised. When he cleared his throat, the fulmination of conversation ceased, and every lens was affixed on him.
He pressed a palm to his chest, voice ringing over the muted hush. “It hurts me,” he said solemnly, “to see this betrayal in my own family.” He paused for effect, allowing the shock to settle. “But Hayes Enterprises is in jeopardy. “My daughter-in-law, Celeste, has been leaking information to our enemies.” Gasps rippled through the crowd, reporters straining to hear every syllable. Soren’s eyes darted over them, estimating which outlet might print his story first. “I bear no malice,” he lied, “only the company’s interest at heart. But the documents I’ve found broach no doubt.”
Celeste watched through the window with Roman and Talia flanking her; horror rose as Soren’s accusations unfolded in real-time. “This is wild,” she said, dread curling in her gut. She’d done nothing to undermine Hayes Enterprises — she fought every day to protect it. The quiet was dangerous, of course, collected outside; the clicks of cameras signalled the power of Soren’s narratives.
Roman placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, agitation flickering in his eyes. “We’ll disprove his claims. The board knows how manipulative he is.” But Celeste remembered that rumour and spectacle frequently eclipse logic in the public eye. Already, Soren’s placid performance bewitched the press.
When Soren’s done, the reporters clamour with questions. He pulled away, pretending not to want to say more. Talia inhaled sharply, her phone buzzing in her palm. “He’s creating a new narrative,” she said bitterly. “Everything else is going to be gobbled up.”
Within the hour, Celeste learned the ground to which his trick had dug. Roman stormed into a tiny lounge, waving printouts of emails bearing her forged signature. Every telegram mentioned trade secrets and competitor manoeuvres, which are clues to spying. “Out on the public server,” Roman said grimly. “All with your name, Celeste. They’re terrifyingly real.” Her heart plummeted. She remembered the previous leaks Soren had coordinated and how readily he spun narratives that played well to a tabloid-hungry press.
Even Talia, her eyes wide, had a hard time meeting Celeste’s gaze. “He’s upped his game,” she said quietly. “Soren’s making you the bad guy.” Celeste swallowed, her chest knotting with fear and shame. Outside, the honking of reporters continued. A chill passed up her spine at how easily the world could turn on her, spinning the loyal wife as a corporate saboteur. She looked to Roman, her voice shaking, “We have to find a way to show these emails aren’t real—before this kills Caspian’s entire future.”
Caspian combed through the estate’s library, pacing, thoughts swirling with anger and dread. Outside, the sound of reporters still pierced through the thick walls. Then came Soren’s press release, slamming Celeste, and the phone calls started pouring in — board members demanding clarifications, shareholders panicking, old acquaintances disbelieving this latest real-life drama. Celeste stood near a tall window, her arms wrapped protectively across her chest, tension radiating from her shoulders as she fought to suppress her dread.
As the whirlpool spit him out, his eyes found her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he barked, his voice dripping with anger. “The press has your emails — these purported messages to a competitor of yours. They’re signing your name, but how did we not predict this?” His eyes were rimmed with insomnia, glinting with hurt, anger boiling from exhaustion.
Celeste’s breath caught. “I didn’t think he’d actually go so low as to paint me as a corporate spy,” she said, injecting steel into her wavering voice. “I just found out a minute before you. Roman found them, not me.” Her eyes flitted to a small pile of printed emails on the desk, each line a noose around her name. “You must believe I’m innocent.”
He hesitated, the memory of Soren’s earlier poison in mind: Your wife has more secrets than you know. A flash of doubt crossed his face, and Celeste sensed the betrayal glazing his eyes. A tide of sadness washed over her. “Don’t let him twist your mind,” she urged, reaching out, a fracture in her voice under an accreting sense of impending tragedy. “He’s staging this.”
His silence hung, but before it had the chance to fester, the library doors burst open. Roman came bursting in, cheeks flushed from hurrying up the stairs. He slapped a new folder down. “Check the metadata,” he puffed, eyes flitting between them. “The emails were sent from Soren’s personal server. We can prove it.”
Caspian’s posture relaxed, disappointment and contrition washing over his face. He threw a hand over his eyes, swearing. “God damn it,” he muttered, voice thick with shame for having doubted her. Celeste’s heart lurched. She was both validated and stung that his suspicion had flared so quickly. Even so, they felt relief: At least Roman’s finding provided a clear escape route from this infernal swamp of rumours.
She moved near him, her fingertips grazing Caspian’s jacket sleeve in silent recognition. “He is putting a wall between us. Don’t let him.” Her voice trembled, and she fought back tears. Caspian swallowed, looking from her to Roman. “I’m not,” he said softly, his voice raw with guilt. “I apologize for doubting you, even for a heartbeat.”
A hush thickened the room as they each registered the weight of Soren’s latest attack. Outside, the press howled with scandalous headlines, but inside, they discovered newfound unity. Roman tucked the evidence into a crisp folder, determination glinting in his eyes. Angela recoiled as she prepared for the next exchange with Celeste. Soren may have been backed into a corner, but that did not mean he would surrender without inflicting more havoc.
Soren found Valentina in a richly appointed salon just off the estate’s main corridor. Pale afternoon light slanted through the room, casting long shadows across fraying plush sofas and gilded mirrors, but the woman’s rigid stance suggested the meeting was anything but convivial. She remembered every betrayal, every veiled threat he’d made against Caspian and Celeste. Now, she had the power to put an end to it if only she could find the nerve.
Soren came in, posture rigid, eyes betraying mild surprise at her brazen choice of venue. He shut the door behind him, the clicking latch punctuating the silence. “Why summon me here?” he feigned boredom and asked, though tension undercut his words. “If you’re in the mood to justify Caspian’s foolish obsession with Celeste, you’re wasting your breath. The world perceives her as a saboteur.’”
Valentina took a deep breath and held firm. “Your lies are cracking,” she said, her voice steady as the thud of her heart rattled her chest and head. “Roman found evidence the espionage allegations go straight back to your server. It’s only a matter of time before the board denunciates you.” Her chin rose and a flash of old loyalties lit in her mind. But she dismissed them, remembering how his unchecked ambition had nearly killed Caspian.
Soren gave a slow shrug. “And what do you propose?” he asked, his lips curling in a half-smile. “Your delusions won’t unring the claims I’ve made.” She walked forward and produced a small flash drive from inside her blazer pocket. “This has evidence of your bank transfers, your mistress’s hush money, all your darkest secrets,” she said, her voice taut. “Refute them if you can. If you don’t stop, I’m going to release everything publicly.”
He froze, his brow pinching. “Blackmail, dear wife? How new,” he spat. His venomous tone shot her pulse up. Yet she held her ground. “Not blackmail — justice,” she shot back, eyes glinting with the hard-worn empathy of years in his orbit.
A slight smile twisted on Soren’s lips, acknowledging her threat with an unwilling respect. Yet he refused to fold. “Go ahead. Ruin me,” he sneered. “But you’ll destroy Caspian in the process. Which is why you think the scandal of a father indicted for fraud doesn’t touch the son?’ He moved closer, his voice lowering. “This empire collapses if you decapitate it.”
A flicker of doubt stabbed Valentina, but she clenched her jaw. “He’ll endure,” she insisted. “We have Talia, Roman, Celeste. “They’ll rebuild without your corruption” At the window, a dusk wind rattled the branches. She noticed Soren’s face harden; for the first time, uncertainty sparkled behind his eyes. The standoff crackled with mutual hatred and regret, neither side giving an inch.
At that moment, Soren’s phone beeped. He looked down, his expression growing dark as he read a text. He pocketed the device and turned toward Valentina with renewed aggression. “You are bolder than I expected,” he said icily. “But Sterling Price tells me you’re more dangerous than I expected.” A shiver of old fright rippled inside her, but her determination only sharpened. She sighed, bracing for the final phase of this war, knowing Soren still held cards to play.