chapter 97
Elena's POV:
Professor Chen stared at the device as if it were a venomous snake coiled on the table, his face draining of what little color remained.
I watched him open and close his mouth several times, no sound emerging.
The man who had once commanded lecture halls with his eloquence was reduced to silence by a simple electronic device and the truth it contained.
"I..." His voice cracked, but the words wouldn't come.
I rose from my chair with deliberate calm, smoothing my dress over my growing belly.
"I gave you a chance," I said quietly, sliding the recorder back into my purse. "You could have chosen truth over comfort. "
His shoulders sagged further, if that were possible. "Elena—"
"I'll be suing Vivienne for theft of intellectual property." My voice remained steady, professional, not the desperate girl who'd once begged for help. "When we meet again, it will be in court."
I turned and walked toward the exit, my heels clicking against the worn linoleum floor. Behind me, I heard the scrape of his chair, as if he might follow, but I didn't look back.
Some bridges, once burned, could never be rebuilt.
The afternoon sun hit my face as I stepped outside, and I saw Marcus already pulling the car around.
As the sleek black vehicle glided to a stop, Marcus was out and opening the door before I could reach for it.
"Thank you," I murmured, settling into the leather seats with a sigh that came from somewhere deep in my chest.
The door had barely closed when Sebastian's arms were around me, pulling me against him with that particular blend of concern and possession that had become so familiar.
"How did it go?" His voice was low, urgent against my ear. "Did he—"
I pulled back just enough to reach into my purse, producing the recorder with a small smile. "Every word."
Sebastian's eyes lit with something proud."You recorded?"
"From the moment I sat down." I couldn't quite suppress the satisfaction in my voice. "Now we have evidence."
"Brilliant." He pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. "My brilliant wife."
I let myself sink into his warmth for a moment before straightening. "What about Henry's case?"
A shadow crossed his features. "These things take time. I have people digging deeper."
My stomach tightened at the reminder of the ugly accusations still swirling online. As if reading my thoughts, Sebastian's hand came up to cup my cheek.
"Don't go online today," he said gently. "My team is monitoring everything, controlling the narrative where we can. You don't need to see—"
"I'm not that fragile." The words came out sharper than intended, and I softened my tone. "Those comments can't hurt me anymore, Sebastian. I'm not the girl who used to hide in her room crying over Vivienne's cruelty."
His thumb traced my cheekbone, and I saw the war in his eyes—the urge to protect battling with his growing respect for my strength.
"What are you thinking?"
I met his gaze in the window's reflection. "I want to announce the Madame Flower situation."
Sebastian was quiet for a long moment, his fingers threading through mine. "You're sure? The internet is flooded with those 'Elena Ross: Murderer Behind the Perfume' posts right now. Your first public response being about work will—"
"I know." I turned to face him fully. "They'll say I'm heartless, that I'm ignoring the accusations. Some will claim it proves my guilt—that only a killer could be so cold."
My lips curved in a bitter smile. "Let them speculate. That's exactly what I want."
"The more convinced they are of my guilt, the more shocking it will be when the truth comes out." I paused, feeling an unexpected sense of control. "Sometimes the worst situations can become your greatest weapons."
---
Back at the penthouse, I sat at my desk with my phone, crafting the post carefully.
No mention of murder accusations or anonymous lies. Just a simple announcement:
Excited to share that a beloved series is about to return to its rightful place. Justice may be delayed, but it is never denied. Stay tuned.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself. Whatever storm was coming, I would meet it on my own terms.
Within minutes, my phone began buzzing with notifications.
The comments poured in like a flood, each more heated than the last.
"First post after being accused of MURDER and she's talking about work??? Guilty conscience much?"
"The audacity... Someone died, and she's promoting her perfumes?"
"What series is she talking about? Is this some kind of deflection?"
"Only a sociopath could be this cold"
But there were other voices too, curious rather than condemning:
"Wait, what series? "
"Something about this feels strategic. What does she know that we don't?"
"Anyone else notice she didn't deny anything? Just... ignored it completely?"
Rumors were just smoke—they'd dissipate soon enough when the truth came to light. Until I had concrete evidence to present, any response would only fuel their fire.
Better to let them exhaust themselves with theories while I was prepared for the real battle ahead.
I could already see it—the courtroom cameras, the live stream viewed by millions, Vivienne's face crumbling as the truth unraveled thread by thread.
In front of everyone who'd ever believed her lies, I would reclaim what was mine.
---
Three days. That's all it took for Sebastian's influence to transform what should have been months of legal preparation into an expedited hearing.
The court agreed to livestream proceedings "in the interest of public transparency,"
I dressed carefully that morning, choosing a navy dress that was professional yet feminine.
As our car pulled up to the courthouse, I could see the crowd of reporters already gathered, their cameras swinging toward us like predators scenting blood.
Then I saw her.
Vivienne stood at the base of the courthouse steps, surrounded by her own entourage. She wore pristine white—a calculated choice, no doubt, to project innocence.
Our eyes met across the distance, and the air seemed to crackle with electricity.
Neither of us looked away. Neither of us blinked.
And we both knew that only one of us would walk out of that courtroom victorious.