Chapter 116: Standing on Equal Footing with James

James leaned back in his office chair, watching the repost count on that gossip thread triple in real time.

The comments had gone completely off the rails — from money transfers to illegitimate children, from illegitimate children to family feuds, with almost every new comment piling on more fuel against Michael.

James let the corner of his mouth curl up slightly, but his eyes were cold with hatred.

His phone buzzed. A number he'd never saved flashed on the screen.

But he recognized those digits. Michael's private line.

He picked up and waited in silence.

"Did you put people up to posting that stuff online?!" Michael's voice was tight with barely controlled fury, practically hissed through clenched teeth.

James let out a quiet laugh and took his time responding. "When you say 'that stuff online,' which part do you mean exactly? The part where your company's profits ended up in Lavinia's account, or the thing between you and your sister-in-law that someone dug up? There's so much out there — I'm not capable of flagging every single post for you."

"You—!" Michael sucked in an audible breath. "You think a little dirt like this can actually touch me?"

"I'm not trying to touch you." James's tone was flat. "When something embarrassing comes out, the one who should be panicking is the person it's about. Why would I panic? If none of it's true, go ahead and sue them for defamation. But those transaction records are real. You can come after internet users all you want — can you really come after the bank?"

Two seconds of silence on the other end, then a dull thud — like a phone slammed against a desk.

Then the clatter of something being swept off a surface and hitting the floor. James listened, moved the phone an inch away from his ear, waited a few seconds, then brought it back.

"If that's all you've got, I'm hanging up."

He ended the call, set down his phone, and looked back at his computer screen. Ravencrest had dropped another two points.

He reached for his glass and took a sip of water. The slight curve at the corner of his mouth wasn't obvious, but he wasn't hiding it either.

Meanwhile, Michael was in his study, and only managed to calm himself down after smashing his third cup.

He called his assistant on the internal line, ordered someone to trace the source of the leak, then told someone else to contact the PR team to get the comments under control.

But less than half an hour after he gave those orders, his secretary knocked and came in, visibly pale, holding out a tablet. "Sir, Ravencrest just got hit with a short position — it's a big one. The stock is already down nearly ten points."

Michael grabbed the tablet and scanned it. Some of the color drained from his face.

He checked the time, then looked again at the thread that was still spreading. Finally he closed his eyes for a moment. "Handle the company situation first. Keep eyes on the PR side and be ready to respond at any time."

He turned and grabbed his jacket, moving faster than usual.

Online, things had completely spiraled out of control.

The comments had shifted from "the trust beneficiary's last name is Prescott" to "Lavinia's son actually kind of looks like a young Michael." Someone had put together a side-by-side comparison photo of Jasper and a young Michael, and it crossed ten thousand reposts almost instantly. The hashtag went from #RockefellerFamilyFinancialAnomaly# to #MichaelLaviniaBastardChild#, and people had even started seriously analyzing where Jasper's lavish spending money had come from all these years.

In his hospital room, Jasper was lying against the headboard scrolling through his phone, face white as paper.

He went through post after post, his fingers slowly tightening around the edges of his phone.

The comparison photos, the discussion threads, the comments saying things like "no wonder his mom spoiled him so much" and "turns out he's Michael Rockefeller's kid" — the words stabbed into his eyes like needles.

He hesitated for a few seconds, then called Lavinia.

It rang for a long time before she picked up. The background was noisy — she sounded like she was walking quickly somewhere.

"Mom." Jasper swallowed. "The stuff people are saying online — am I... am I Michael's son?"

Lavinia's footsteps paused for a beat. "What are you talking about? I'm busy right now. Focus on recovering, stop filling your head with nonsense."

"Just tell me yes or no!"

"I told you to stop thinking about it." A door closing came through the line, then a few low words being exchanged with a secretary. Lavinia's voice was rushed and hushed. "I have to go. We'll talk later."

She hung up.

Jasper sat there gripping his phone for a long while. The screen had gone dark, but he stared at it anyway. After a long moment, he slowly let out a breath, and the tension in his expression gradually gave way — the corners of his mouth rising into a smile he couldn't hold back even if he tried.

Lavinia hadn't denied it. Didn't that basically confirm he was Michael's son?

Jasper settled back against his pillow, pressing the screen on, then off, then on again, his mind running at full speed.

If he was Michael's son, then he was the son of the family's eldest — the same standing as James.

James could be the chosen heir. But if they shared the same father, why couldn't he be too?

Jasper looked down, tapping his fingertip lightly against the screen twice, and started humming to himself in a pretty good mood.

The sun was bright outside, making the white walls almost glaring, but it didn't bother him. He squinted slightly, like he was looking at something new — a path that had just started to light up.

---

The Rockefeller family estate. The study.

Michael stood with his head down, too afraid to look up. The atmosphere in the room was suffocating.

Stanley's face was dark as he pointed to the Ravencrest stock chart spread across the desk. "Look at it yourself."

The line on the chart looked like someone had taken a blade to the middle of it — a clean, brutal drop, right there in black and white.

"You were telling me not long ago that you wanted to take over Rockefeller Group. Now one small company hits a rough patch and you can't even handle it. If I handed the family to you, this family would be finished in five years."

Michael opened his mouth to explain. Stanley raised a hand. Michael swallowed his words.

"I've already suppressed the coverage. I've had someone prop up the stock price." Stanley finally looked up at him.

"But I'm only doing this once. From now on, before you do anything, think about whether it's going to leave a loose end. What happened this time reflects on the entire Rockefeller family — not just you."

Michael kept saying "yes, sir," not daring to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

Only when Stanley waved a hand and said "get out" did he allow himself a quiet breath of relief. He turned toward the door, walking heavier than when he'd come in.

Just before he reached it, Stanley spoke again. "Whatever's going on between you and Lavinia is none of my business. I'm too old to get involved in your personal affairs. But if it touches this family — don't expect me to deal with only you."

That sent a chill straight through Michael. "I understand, Dad. I'll take care of it, I promise."

After the study door closed, Stanley settled back into his leather chair and was quiet for a long time before looking at his assistant.

"Who was behind the market move?"

"We traced the online push back to James. But the short selling didn't come from him directly." The assistant paused. "Whoever it was used at least five layers of intermediary accounts and offshore shell accounts. We can't get to the real identity in the short term."

Stanley didn't respond right away.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the sun-lit lawn outside, fingers tapping slowly on the armrest.

"James pushed the story to make Michael's life difficult for a few days — that's one thing." He spoke slowly. "But whoever shorted the stock was going for the kill on Ravencrest. The person behind it — it has to be James."

The assistant said nothing.

"James has hated Michael for over twenty years. He's hated this whole family. He's held back all this time because I'm still here — I'm the one he's wary of. But the day I'm gone..." Stanley's voice dropped. "There's no one left to stop him."

The assistant kept his head down and stayed silent.

Stanley's gaze stayed on the window, his fingers still tapping the armrest. "It looks like the time has come to go through her."

"Look into what Evie's been doing in Thailand. As much detail as you can get."

"Yes, sir."