CHAPTER 215. THE PRICE OF OBSESSION

CHAPTER 215. THE PRICE OF OBSESSION
CHAPTER 215. THE PRICE OF OBSESSION

One of the board members, a stout man named Maurice, cleared his throat—a dry, rasping sound that cut through the tense silence of the mahogany-paneled room, finally drawing Tristan’s exhausted attention.

“We completely understand everything you are trying to say, Tristan, but we really need you to understand the gravity of the situation here,” Maurice began, his voice laced with the brittle authority of a man terrified of losing billions. “The evidence was so clear. And, of course, we wouldn’t blame you if it wasn't your face in that video. You know that, right? That was high-graphic, highly detailed evidence of you getting entangled with someone else’s wife.”

Tristan felt the familiar, cold pressure of the room closing in. His gaze drifted over the faces of the men and women seated around the massive conference table—faces that usually reflected deference, now contorted by fear and thinly veiled judgment.

“And of course, we knew her,” Maurice continued, leaning forward, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “We know who she is. She is Gloria Munroe, the wife of David Munroe. Of course, we know that family. As the man whose company you were trying to take over—to bring to greater heights at the time with your empire—was that the reason you tried to get entangled with them?”

Tristan closed his eyes, drawing a slow, deliberate breath, and let it out in a quiet hiss. The air in the room felt thick with accusation, yet he saw the calculated beauty of the trap.

“Can't you believe me when i say my enemies saw it fit to paint this evidence in a beautifully designed way that makes me look like the bad person?” Tristan stated, his voice low and steady, betraying none of the internal churn. “When, in truth, nothing is quite what it seems.”

“So, what do you have to say about the evidence?” Maurice retaliated instantly, his tone hardening.

Tristan inhaled again, a measured, professional ritual, before opening his eyes. He leveled his gaze at the collective group, a faint, almost pitying smirk touching his lips.

“I can’t believe you have been so long in the business industry to not have figured out that we are living in the revolution of AI technology,” he said, his words measured and precise. “Doctored images, created by sophisticated AI, made to feel so real that you won’t actually believe they are unclean. You’ve been fooled by a digital ghost.”

Silence, heavy and absolute, reigned over the entire room. The board members exchanged nervous glances, their initial confidence in the evidence visibly fracturing.

It was Duncan who broke the spell. He pushed back from the table, scraping his chair loudly across the polished floor. He had managed to twist his hand back into its normal, functional position after whatever scuffle had preceded this meeting, but his posture was rigid, and his eyes were blazing with unadulterated fury directed solely at Tristan.

“Stop trying to cover your mess,” Duncan snarled, his voice vibrating with righteous indignation. “It is shouting out loud right now. Don’t you dare think you can just walk your way around this because you have all the money, because you have all the power. The evidence is strong and clear against you. Deal with it, Tristan. You are wrong this time, and you have been caught. Stop trying to frame it as some sort of doctored video. It is so clear.”

Duncan swept his hand toward the silent Maurice and the others. “I mean, you guys saw the details. Everything was clear and crisp, clean. There was no hint of editing or any engineering done by any expert. We had to take this to the technology department to filter it and see if it was actually fake, but they reported it was real, original. The only editing that was done was the one to make it clear enough for broadcast.”

Tristan raised a skeptical eyebrow, a scoff escaping his lips. “Of course, it was definitely going to be clean,” he countered smoothly. “Because the origin wasn't from any normal video or camera. It was generated entirely by the AI technology used to create it. That was the origin. What were you expecting? A shaky phone video?”

The room fell silent once more. The board members looked confused, glancing at one another, whispering amongst themselves as they tried desperately to figure out where the truth lay. Tristan’s explanation, though fantastic, was delivered with the terrifying conviction of a man who knew exactly how far technology had advanced.

“We don’t know what else to think anymore, Tristan,” Maurice finally spoke, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. “But the truth remains that the entire thing is tanking down this company’s reputation. Our stocks, everything is going down at a rapid speed. We’ve lost a total of $3.2 billion in the last hour, ever since this news broke.” He swallowed hard, the number sounding catastrophic even to his own ears. “I don’t know how much damage can be done if this scandal continues for the next three to five days. This company might literally go bankrupt, and it’s not something we want right now.”

Maurice pushed a sheaf of papers across the table toward Tristan. “We want you to make a public statement that you have resigned and denounced yourself from this company, effective immediately. You are no longer the CEO. If you have this company in mind, and truly want it to prosper, you must step down so that this entire piece of news won’t continue to affect us.”

Tristan remained silent for a long moment, simply looking at Maurice. He took a deep, steadying breath, the air chilling his lungs.

“I get it. I understand your point, Maurice,” he conceded, his eyes scanning the desperate faces of his board. “I myself would want anything to ensure that this company doesn’t crash and fall into pieces. But that’s why I am here.” He placed his palms flat on the table, the gesture one of finality and power. “I saw the news, saw everything, and I didn’t like how it went. I’m here to claim my innocence, to let you know that all of this is me being framed by malicious individuals who want nothing but my downfall. Okay?”

His gaze hardened, sweeping over them all. “I’m going to ensure I deal with this. I’m going to meet the press. But there is no way in hell I’m going to step down and give up the company I fought so hard to build, and the company that brought all of you in while you were at your homes speaking of scraps and leftovers. Do you understand that?”

Each and every one of them fell silent, suddenly finding the grain of the wood table or their own fingers profoundly interesting. The reminder of their humble origins under his patronage was a potent weapon.

“Good,” Tristan said, the single word ringing with cold authority. He then sat down at the head table once more, reclaiming his territory. “Now we move to the next plan. And the plan is to ensure that we bring to justice the individuals trying to frame me. And I think I know one of them.”

Every board member looked at him with a collective frown. “Who?” they asked, their voices barely above a whisper, hope flickering in their eyes.

Tristan took another deep breath, the name a bitter taste on his tongue. He shook his head slowly. “It’s personal, but I’m going to bring her to justice and ensure that everything doesn’t get worse than it is.”

“You are a freaking liar!” Duncan interrupted, his temper finally snapping. He slammed his fists on the table, sending pens skittering. “Don’t just sit down there and act like you have some strong redeemer. You are messed up. Everyone here knows that. They are just scared of you to admit it. Get out of this company! You are not needed!”

Tristan laced his fingers together, resting them on the table before him. He inhaled and exhaled, a visible attempt to maintain the last shreds of his composure.

“I can’t take any more of your presence, Duncan. I have been trying to avoid this from the very beginning, ever since you began to hit on my goodwill when I brought you in here and made you almost my second-in-command and managing director. But you have begun to piss me off. You are beginning to step on my toes. So, to that effect, you are fired.”

Duncan scoffed, shaking his head with a wild, manic look. “Don’t you get it? Looks like you don’t understand anymore, right? You have no power here anymore, Tristan. Get that into your fucking skull. There is no power left for you to hold on to. Your reputation, everything about you, the respect that everyone holds for you has been crushed. So, you are nothing more than a mere individual before our eyes right now. We need you out of here so that this company can prosper.”

Duncan turned, shouting at the stunned board members. “What the hell are all of you doing? Regain your confidence! This wasn’t how you were talking when he wasn’t here! Regain that confidence and tell him the right thing!”

Tristan remained silent, his fingers still laced together, his breathing controlled. He inhaled and exhaled, but now, only one thought raced through his mind, overriding the corporate chaos, the crushing humiliation. The thought of Gloria.

He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head slowly, biting down hard against his bottom lip until he tasted blood. Then, with a sudden, decisive movement, he got up from his seat. He looked at each and every one of them, his expression unreadable, and moved to the door.

“Well, if that is what you want,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

All the board members were looking at him with surprise, their faces a mixture of relief and dawning horror.

“I can’t believe you all would undertake me after everything I’ve done for you,” Tristan continued, his voice now tinged with cold disappointment. “But it doesn’t mean I’ve lost everything. It’s not the end of the world for me. Let’s see how good you guys are going to make sure this company gets better even after I’m gone. Goodbye.”

He moved out of the office and the heavy door clicked shut behind him.

The board members immediately became confused, the bravado Duncan had tried to instill collapsing instantly. They wondered, with sickening certainty, if everything they had just done was right.

“You did the right thing,” Duncan insisted, trying to regain control of the room.

“Are you really sure about this?” Maurice questioned, his face pale. “He looked confident that he could avert this.”

But Duncan was merely scoffing, his satisfaction palpable. All of them were still deep in thought, debating the immediate future of Vale Enterprises, when the large TV screen mounted on the wall suddenly came to life.

Five minutes later, Tristan’s face flashed against the screen. He was standing outside, surrounded by a chaotic swarm of reporters and paparazzi who had gathered at the entrance of the building. Their eyes went wide with shock.

“Oh my God, what is going on? What is he doing?” one of them muttered.

Tristan’s voice spoke loudly, flashing against the TV screen, which they obviously knew was being broadcasted all over the city, probably all over the world.

“Everyone,” Tristan began, his tone somber but controlled, the perfect mask of a man taking responsibility. “I guess you have all heard the news that has been going viral about me. Yes, well, it’s been really, really crazy. I don’t know what to say about it, but I just know one thing.” He paused for dramatic effect, letting the camera lights illuminate his weary face. “I want to ensure I do the right thing so that this scandal doesn’t mess up everything I have worked for, doesn’t erase the stress of everything I have struggled to build.”

He looked directly into the camera. “So, to that effect, I’m officially stepping down as CEO of Vale Enterprises. I am going to take a sabbatical and take a relief for a few months, going off to reflect on everything that has happened and to stand against those that are trying to do everything they can to bring me down. I promise you, I’m going to be back strong.”

A flicker of bitterness crossed his eyes. “I know what you all think about me. It would be easy for you all to believe this piece of information because that’s the kind of person I have been perceived to be—a playboy who sleeps with any woman that comes across his way. But, well, it looks like my enemies decided to take advantage of that reputation and come against me. But I’m going to fight this. Okay? That’s all I have to say for now,” he concluded, and stepped away from the podium.

The board members looked at each other, their eyes wide, their lips parted in utter astonishment.

“Oh my God,” Maurice muttered, his earlier fear replaced by a strange mix of awe and guilt.

“Well, it looks like he actually became wise and did the right thing,” Duncan said with a satisfied smile, folding his arms together, his triumph secured.



Tristan found himself back in his mansion, in the isolated sanctuary of his penthouse. The elevator pinged open, and he stepped inside, feeling the white-hot fury of everything that had happened in the past few hours—the betrayal, the humiliation, the loss—surging through his body, demanding an outlet.

The object of his present, crushing rage was found seated in the large living room. She was smiling to herself, and of course, like he expected, she was completely naked, sipping a glass of wine. Her gaze was fixed on the massive TV screen, which was currently displaying the looping news coverage of his public statement. She was enjoying the fruits of her labor, reveling in the culmination of the atrocities she had committed to ensure it led up to this exact moment.

“Well, well, well, you came right on time,” Avery said, her voice a purring invitation.

Tristan ground his teeth together, the rage moving through him like an electric current.

“Why the hell did you do this?” he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

She slowly turned her head to look at him, her smile widening into a predatory grin. “Oh, come on, daddy,” she whispered, setting the wine glass delicately on the center table.

She rose, her movement fluid and deliberate, displaying her extremely sexy, hot, arousing naked form in front of him. The sight was a calculated weapon, designed to make that particular sensation—the perverse, addictive pull he had struggled to fight for so long—return to him in full, agonizing force.

When am I ever going to get over this? When am I ever going to get over this addiction to her? he thought, the internal conflict a sharp, physical pain.

But Avery wasn't intent on making things easy. She advanced slowly. “This is just the beginning, daddy. I just did this to get your attention back and make you realize the big mistake you are making, in case you haven’t figured it out. We are meant to be together, daddy, okay? And I can’t just sit back and allow someone else—someone who is not supposed to be in our circle—to get entangled with us.”

Tristan closed his eyes and exhaled, trying to anchor himself in sanity. “This is wrong, Avery,” he said.

She chuckled, a dry, mocking sound. “I know, daddy. But if this was so wrong, you shouldn’t have started it, okay?” she said, her eyes suddenly glaring, the seduction momentarily replaced by bitter resentment. “I was ready to be good, ready to be a good daughter, to obey you to the letter, even though I knew that some twisted part of me wanted you, craved you, needed you.”

She took another step closer, forcing him to confront the full, devastating reality of her obsession.

“If you had just maintained your reputation as a father and not tried to have any shit to do with me, then maybe it would not have gotten to this extent,” she breathed, her scent, a mix of expensive perfume and wine, enveloping him. “Maybe I wouldn’t have become so addicted to you that all I can think about is you fucking me hard all day. And I can’t get over it. And it’s making me so crazy.”

Her voice cracked with genuine, possessive pain. “You have been avoiding me for so long, giving your dick to that woman when it was supposed to be mine. You were supposed to be satisfying me like you’ve always done, and you just had to go over and stick it into another man’s wife. I couldn’t just sit back and continue to let that happen. So, deal with the consequences. You are mine, if you like it or not.”