Chapter 77 PRESS RELEASE
I issued an internal memo to all collaborators and suppliers of SoundStory Press:
“Dear partners,
Over the years, the founder, and CEO of SoundStory Press, Patrick Morgan, has been a shining example of leadership, implementing policies based on respect, trust, appreciation, and development within our publishing house. His integrity and dedication as a leader have never been questioned, and many professionals who have passed through the company, as well as our supplier partners, have had the opportunity to grow under his guidance, achieving international recognition.
Patrick Morgan has shown belief in the talent and potential of each of us. In this delicate moment, we ask that you not rush to judgment regarding the recent scandal involving our CEO. We will soon have clarifications on the facts, and until then, we kindly request the benefit of the doubt.
Sincerely,
Elisabeth Lis
Senior Executive Secretary”
After sending the internal email, we received several supportive responses for Mr. Morgan, with some retracting their hasty actions. Next, I set my plan in motion regarding the press release, where we would reveal Forbes' secret to the public. Greg had arranged a small entourage, so I could address the public before Mr. Morgan's return.
“You know you don't have to do this, Mrs. Elisabeth,” Greg said, watching the reporters in front of the publishing house, restless, eager, and speculative. “They're a bunch of despicable vultures.”
“I am Mr. Morgan's right hand; I need to act as such.” I clenched my fists and straightened my posture, trying to appear more confident than I actually felt.
“I'm glad you don't doubt him.” Greg smiled subtly, relieved.
“On the contrary, Greg, there are many questions swirling in my mind, but I'll save them for when Patrick returns.” I cleared my throat, ready to step forward. “Anyway, wish me luck; I'll need it.”
“You don't need luck; you're the most competent person to handle this.” I met Greg's steady gaze. “However, are you aware that your TV appearance will draw your ex's attention?”
“That monster already knows where I am. He wouldn't dare attack me in public anyway.” I pleaded with him.
“We're on alert; our security has been doubled, and I'll be right by your side,” Greg said firmly. “Is the vest properly positioned?”
“Yes, the dress shirt hides it well.” She smiled gratefully for his care. “Showtime!”
I stepped onto the makeshift stage in front of the reporters, who looked at me with confusion before starting their questions.
“What's going on? Where's Mr. Morgan and the promised statement?” shouted a sharp-edged journalist of a certain age.
“Good afternoon. Thank you all for being here.” I smiled gently. “I will be making the statement on behalf of Mr. Morgan.”
“And who are you?” mocked a reporter.
“I'm Elisabeth Lis, executive secretary to Mr. Patrick Morgan, responsible for addressing the false accusations against our CEO,” I replied. As I finished, a barrage of questions erupted, and I raised my hand to silence them. “Please await my statement before asking questions.”
I looked around the room, recognizing some journalists from Heloise Forbs' entourage. I adjusted the paperwork on the lectern and began my address:
“As you all know, Mrs. Heloise Forbs is the former wife of Patrick Morgan, who has been unjustly accused of serious abuse allegations. However, internally, we know that Mrs. Heloise has a complicated genetic predisposition, with mental health issues like schizophrenia. Mrs. Heloise herself reported that her brother, Forbs, also suffers from the disease, inherited from their mother.” I paused, seeing confusion in the reporters' eyes. “Our team's thorough investigation revealed that at the age of 15, Mrs. Heloise Forbs was hospitalized in a psychiatric clinic after telling her siblings that she saw and heard her deceased parents, as well as acting out and identifying as fictional characters, believing them to be part of her personality.”
Reporters began speaking over each other, creating a loud cacophony. The confusion was palpable. I pointed to a journalist who had emailed us requesting Mr. Morgan's stance before the press, expressing disbelief in the accusations.
“Hello, Ms. Elisabeth, I'm Henry from New Action. How would you explain the photo taken inside the publisher's office, clearly showing Mr. Morgan strangling his ex-wife, whose clothing was elevated?” he asked firmly.
“There's a recording camera inside the room. However, only Mr. Morgan has access to the footage. With that said, I ask that you disregard Mrs. Heloise Forbs' statement, as her narrative is dubious and questionable. We're not sure of the facts, meaning this whole discussion and story might have been a creation of Mrs. Heloise Forbs' mind.” I stared into the camera firmly, ensuring it knew Patrick would still have his chance to explain himself.
“But the photos don't lie!” another journalist exclaimed. “Moreover, Celdric Forbs also accuses Mr. Morgan of physical assault.”
“Again, I ask for the benefit of the doubt. We only know one side of the story.” I sighed as more reporters lined up with uncomfortable questions. “Gentlemen, CEO Patrick Morgan has a flawless track record. A war veteran, he fought for our country and earned honors. He founded Seattle's largest publishing house with strict compliance policies and boasts top ratings in company model surveys. He engages with and funds NGOs and projects for low-income individuals. There's no reason to discredit Mr. Morgan based on Mrs. Heloise's statement, which could easily be a fabricated and believed-unreal story.”
“Are you accusing Mrs. Heloise Forbs of lying and unjustly accusing Mr. Morgan?” Henry from New Action was questioned.
“Yes, I am,” I replied firmly, as several flashes blinded me.
I shielded my eyes from the irritating lights. When my vision adjusted, he was amidst the crowd of reporters, wearing a hood and sporting a sinister, smug smile. He simply put a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. My heart raced, my face paled, and my legs weakened. Greg seemed to notice where I was staring and scanned the area without spotting anyone.
“What's wrong, Ms. Elisabeth?” Greg asked, alarmed, positioning himself protectively in front of me.
“He's here.” I murmured in shock, my voice trembling. “He's come for me!”
With tears in my eyes, I looked at Greg, who activated his radio before turning to address the press.
“The statement is concluded. Mr. Morgan will soon make a public address,” he announced, pulling me away.
“Where is Mr. Morgan? Why hasn't he spoken yet?” the relentless reporters shouted.
We rushed to the car, escorted by security. Greg was alarmed, but strangely, we weren't followed.
“I don't understand.” I said it fearfully. “Why didn't he try anything?”
“He's playing on your fear, just trying to scare you,” Greg said, pouring a glass of wine to help me relax. “He wanted you to know he's close.”