Sunlight flooded the improvised outdoor press pen on the lawn of Hayes Enterprises, and the rich green scenery was a stark contrast to the taut silence among the assembled reporters. Cameras snapped, time and again, the photos of Caspian's coiled stance as he stated at the podium. Next to him was Celeste, shoulders rolled back, staring straight ahead, resolved not to flinch in the face of a torrent of questions. A hush swept through the crowd when he finally cleared his throat to speak.
He started gently but with steel under his words. "I've heard the rumours, seen the headlines. Let me be crystal clear: My wife, Celeste, is not the traitor some of you have tried to make her out to be." His voice elevated, a calm authority in his tone as he beckoned her closer. She obliged, her fingers grazing his briefly in a show of solidarity. The light touch bolstered her resolve, and he seized that sense of shared courage to press on. "Soren Montague has conducted lies and slander from within these walls. I refuse to let him — or anyone — destroy the legacy we fought to build."
A wave of murmurs spread through the reporters. The breeze stirred the cluster of microphones, and a hush followed Caspian's statement, the kind of quiet that preceded a bombshell. At the fringe, Talia and Roman observed, relief alternating in their faces with Caspian's stalwart position. The tone perceptibly shifted; reporters caught the scent of redemption's promise in Caspian's words, detecting a potential shift in public sentiment.
Celeste trapped a breath and leaned into the mic, peering at uncertain faces. "I support Caspian, who is determined to return Hayes Enterprises to the very principles upon which it was founded. Any allegation of sabotage or espionage is a "fabrication by those who want to destabilize the company". Her tone sliced through the babble of half-formed questions, hush descending on the scene.
Before Caspian could continue, a reporter in the first row reached forward a recorder. "Mr Montague," she called, incisive yet respectful, "rumour has it your father rescinded a large trust fund intended to protect your leadership. Is it true? And if so, how does that affect your promise to stay on as CEO?"
Caspian's face rippled with shock. The trust fund debacle was intended to be a private affair, known by a select few. The question shot a pulse of adrenaline through his veins, but he forced it down. Soren had obviously leaked the revocation as a desperate stroke to hamstring him.
Shoulders stiff, Caspian gave Celeste a quick look, her brows knitted up with alarm. He had faced the reporter again. "It's no secret that my father and I are on opposite ends of the spectrum. "He has isolated me financially, sure. A whirl of moving bodies, camera lenses coming in closer. "But I'm not defined by that fund. Hayes Enterprises is much more than any individual safety net. If we can only hold on to power if we have to replenish trust funds, then we may have lost touch with the real basis — our people, our values."
A hushed silence came in its wake, tension thick as the audience processed his admission. The news conference had veered off course. Caspian and Celeste traded muted, crackling looks, knowing that, though they had dispatched the narrative of sabotage, they had dug up fresh vulnerabilities for Soren's side to exploit.
Roman thumbed through a batch of freshly printed papers that afternoon inside the estate's cramped study, pushing up his glasses beneath the sputtering lamp. Talia peered over his shoulder, making her way through each page with tight-lipped focus. The soft hum of overhead lights provided little solace to the storm raging in their minds. Finally, Roman scanned partially obscure wire transfers that were scattered among various accounts. "Over here," he said in a hushed voice. "This confirms that Soren and Sterling Price have created a shell company to drain Hayes Enterprises' bank account. Each such sum is a recent shortfall for which we can't find an alternative explanation."
Talia's heart pounded. "So they're draining the company from the inside," she said, biting her rage. It was one thing to witness Soren wage psychological warfare on Caspian; it was wholly other to watch him carve out the imperial financial core. She leafed through more pages. "Just look at it; they used false vendor names to disguise the transfers. If we don't blow the whistle on this soon, the losses could cripple Caspian irreparably."
Roman nodded, looking into Talia's worried eyes. "And he's only just found his footing after that trust fund mess became public," Roman said. "This could be the knockout punch if they dump it on him. And then think of the headlines: 'Caspian Montague bankrupts Hayes amid family drama.'" A muted anger swelled in his chest. The last thing Caspian needed was a new crisis to undermine his credibility.
She ran her fingertip over the largest transaction — an eye-popping amount that could jeopardize the firm's liquidity. "We have enough to cause alarm at the next board meeting," Talia said, voice shaking with urgency. "But we must be certain. Soren's clever enough to deflect blame or plant evidence pointing to Caspian."
Roman's phone pinged, a text from an unfamiliar number. He skimmed it, frowning, colour draining from his face. "They're going to wind down Tech Solutions by the end of the month," he said, grim-faced. "A key division that Caspian groomed to bring Hayes into the 21st century. Without it, his whole reform strategy collapses." "That would give her a push out," Talia's pulse thudding at the tactic: a strategic tearing apart of Caspian's influence from the inside the corporate structure, all behind the scenes.
She walked back and forth in the small area, raking a hand through her hair. "We need to warn him and prevent them from quietly shutting down that division. If Soren pulls it off, Caspian's hold is over." Roman turned off the lamp without a word. They brought the documents outside, every sense attuned to the possibility of watchers or hidden cameras. The corridor was silent except for their footfall, each step whispering — time slipped away. Soren's noose tightened around Caspian's throat on a daily basis, and with each passing hour, they risked being one step too late to save the empire's sabotage.
By evening, the private event was packed with wealthy patrons whose jovial conversations bounced off the opulent mirrors lining a large ballroom. Valentina arrived swathed in a midnight-blue gown, her expression grim despite the elegant surroundings. The guests made polite small talk and sipped champagne under sparkling chandeliers, oblivious to the silent tensions roiling among the Montagues. In one corner, Sterling Price hosted a cadre of sycophants, peeking at Valentina through half-shut lids as though challenging her to appraise.
Summoning her courage, she crossed the polished floor, ignoring the swirl of curious eyes. Sterling offered a casual tilt of his glass in her direction; there was something obnoxiously confident about him. "Ah, Valentina," he drawled, "I was wondering when you'd come visit me." His admirers were shooed away with a stately wave as he focused on her, taking a step closer.
She gave a stony nod, remembering when she used to find his suave veneer somewhat charming. Now, she only looked at a man orchestrating the end of all that her son and Celeste struggled to save. "I recognize your hand in Soren's sabotage," she said, tone low but trembling with compressed rage. "You're manipulating the fortunes of the company to satisfy your ambition. Caspian is your family — why not tear him down?"
Sterling shrugged and swirled his drink. "Family is a means to an end, my dear Valentina," he responded softly, allowing the lapel of his black tuxedo to catch the ballroom's spectacular lights. "If Caspian can't manage Hayes Enterprises properly, I'll see it disassembled or remoulded under better care." It's business, not personal." There was an evil glint in his eye.
She stood straighter, resolved not to cede ground. "You talk about business, but you destroy loyalty," she hissed, fighting the primitive reaction to douse him with her drink. "I'll reveal all that you've done. "Every bribe, every shell account, every effort to turn father against son."
Sterling sipped champagne slowly, her mouth twisting into a cold smile. "You could," he conceded, "but think about this: If Caspian is in my way, I'll destroy him without a second thought. Imagine the heartbreak of losing not only your fortune but your son's status — perhaps even his sanity. Is that worth your moral outrage?'"
She willed herself to stay outwardly calm, even as goosebumps ran up and down her arms. "I'm not gonna let you or Soren eat this family," she replied, tone subtly deadly. "If you think I am afraid of your threats, you are wrong."
His smile sharpened into a menacing promise. "Join me in creating a new order or witness the fall of Caspian," he murmured as he leaned closer. Either outcome works for me." With that, he sat up straight, peremptorily snapping his fingers for a waiter as if the conversation was frivolous. Valentina's heart raced in her ears, but her face remained expressionless. As he turned to greet another guest, she surreptitiously slipped a small recording device deeper into her purse. She'd gleaned enough from that last exchange to further her cause. The question was whether she could move quickly enough to spare her son an irreversible descent.