Chapter 32 The Press And The Puppet Strings
Mark’s POV
The flash of cameras was relentless , the white light against the dark blue banner that read Simmons Group Press Conference.
I adjusted my tie, smiled the way people do when they’re trying to convince the world everything’s fine.
“Mr. Simmons,” one reporter called out, “can you confirm whether the video circulating online is authentic?”
I leaned toward the mic. “No, I cannot, because it’s not. The footage is an AI fabrication designed to damage not only me but also Miss Olivia Reed, our company’s Vice President of Operations.”
There were m flashes. A low murmur rippled through the hall.
Olivia sat beside me, poised, her expression calm but tight around the edges.
When she spoke, her tone was crisp. “This is a deliberate attempt to discredit our work and destabilize Simmons Group. We’re pursuing legal action against whoever distributed it.”
The crowd buzzed again, questions upon question stacking over one another like gunfire.
“Who do you think is behind this?”
“What about the internal leaks?”
“Is there any connection between the scandal and your new public offering?”
I forced a smile, fingers tightening on the microphone. “We stand by transparency. That’s why we opened shares to the public. The truth will protect us.”
It was the kind of line that played well on television, confident, measured.
But inside, my chest felt hollow.
The lights burned against my skin. The noise of the crowd blurred into static until, suddenly, I saw movement at the back of the room.
Collins.
He pushed through the reporters, eyes wide, his face drained of color.
He didn’t belong up here , not during a broadcast. I tried to wave him off, but he was already at the stage.
He leaned down, whispering close enough for only me to hear.
“Sir… it’s about the shares.”
My throat went dry. “What about them?”
He hesitated, voice trembling. “The forty percent that went public , there is one buyer,”
“What,”
“Everyone who bought it transferred their shares to one person,”
I blinked. “Who?”
He swallowed hard. “Davenport.”
For a moment, the name didn’t register.
Then it hit like ice.
I forced my jaw not to lock, my expression not to falter.
Every camera lens in that room was waiting for my weakness.
I straightened slowly, forcing a small smile. “Excuse me, everyone. We’ll take one last question before we wrap up.”
My voice sounded calm. My heartbeat wasn’t.
Becca’s POV
The washing machine hummed softly in the background. I sat on the edge of the couch, folding laundry I didn’t even remember washing.
The window was cracked open, and the Atlanta air carried faint traces of rain.
For the first time in days, the apartment felt almost quiet.
I was trying to keep my mind empty, focusing on ordinary things.
T-shirts. Towels. Socks.
“Pretend you’re normal,” I told myself.
“Pretend like nothing ever happened. Like you weren't just grape by your ex,”
My phone beeped beside me. At first I didn't respond to it but then the vibration came again.
It was insistent so I had to pick it up.
1 new email from an anonymous sender.
The subject line made my stomach twist:
SIMMONS GROUP SCANDAL 2
My hands shook as I opened it.
There was one attachment.
Simmons_Leaked_Tape_Final.mp4
For a full minute, I couldn’t breathe.
The laundry slid from my hands onto the floor. The room tilted slightly, as if the walls themselves were trying to pull away from me.
“No…” I whispered. “No, not again.”
My thumb hovered over the delete button but curiosity, fear, disbelief; all tangled together, was holding me still.
I didn’t play it. I couldn’t.
But I knew what it was.
Someone wanted to burn everything down.
I dropped the phone like it was hot metal and pressed my palms to my face.
It was happening all over again. Only this time, I wasn’t sure there would be anything left to save.
I should call Mark.
\---
Mark’s POV
“…We appreciate your questions,” I was saying, “Simmons Group remains committed to ethical practices and transparency. Thank you.”
My phone buzzed beneath my trousers.
The conference room erupted in more camera flashes.
The reporters shouted my name, questions cutting through the noise, but I barely heard them.
Davenport had forty percent of my company shares.
It was a chess move I should’ve seen coming. Whoever it was, has been circling for months, waiting for the moment my image cracked.
Now he owns almost half of my company.
I shook hands, nodded, pretended to listen.
Olivia smiled through it, perfect on cue. We looked like a united front , two executives beating the odds.
I sat there while the remaining board members were attending to the reporters.
Collins' voice trailed behind me, talking fast. I caught pieces of his words “board approval,” “vote control,” “hostile influence” but they dissolved under the roar in my ears.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. The reflex made me glance down.
It was a new message.
Shit I'm tired of this endless messages
I hesitantly opened it. My blood stopped running for a moment.
It was a video of me and Olivia. The morning after the night we spent together.
“No one should know what happened here,”
Then her voice, shaking: “Mark, this could ruin us.”
My jaw locked.
The video was crystal clear and not fabricated.
Beneath it was an authenticity report on the both videos.
It was proven not, ai generated.
I looked up at the cameras that were still flashing, the crowd still watching, the microphones still live.
And somewhere deep in my gut, I knew this was the real fall.