Chapter 190 Exposing Anna Live (1)
The press conference Anna had called that morning had attracted nearly every major news outlet in River City.
Reporters from all the big networks were here, badges swinging from their necks, cameras already locked on the stage.
The wide multimedia hall was packed, the front rows ringed with photographers lugging shoulder-mounted rigs, lenses glinting under the lights.
It was going live across every platform. The announcement had been teased for days, and the internet had been obsessed with one thing: Vaughn Williams. Where was he? What had happened? So when the feed went live at exactly noon, tens of thousands tuned into the stream within seconds.
Anna stepped out in a black dress that hugged her frame like a second skin. Every lens in the room snapped toward her in unison. She could feel the weight of those eyes—hungry, expectant, ready to tear into whatever she gave them. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen from sleepless nights, and when she took the mic her voice was raw and strained.
"…Thank you for coming to the Williams Group press conference," she began. The sound carried through the hall, low and hoarse, like someone who had been living on coffee and grief for days.
The room went still. No one moved. No one coughed. They were waiting.
"I'm here today to address the public's concern for my grandfather," she said. "Three days ago, at midday, my grandfather Vaughn Williams fell overboard from a cruise ship and went missing."
She paused, drawing in a breath that barely steadied her. "First, I want to thank everyone for the messages and support. But I have to share something… something I wish I didn't have to say. Despite the police's full-scale search, there has been no trace of him."
Her eyes flickered down, and the words seemed to scrape her throat on the way out. "It's been three days. And the truth is… he is most likely gone."
The silence deepened, heavy enough to press against the skin. Everyone had suspected it—three days missing at sea was a death sentence—but hearing it confirmed hit like a stone in the gut. Vaughn Williams wasn't just missing. He was dead. And there was no body.
A reporter stood, voice cutting through the tension. "Ms. Williams, are you saying Mr. Williams's death is confirmed?"
Anna's gaze lifted, rimmed in red. "Yes…" she said, each syllable weighed down. "Even without a body, I know my grandfather is gone. He was the closest person to me in this world. I'll continue the search for another week, no matter the cost. I want to find him… to let him rest."
The feed exploded with comments—strings of encouragement, praise for her devotion, declarations that she was strong. In the hall, sympathy spread through the crowd.
Another reporter rose, voice sharp. "Ms. Williams, with Mr. Williams's passing, will you take control of The Williams Group? Will you become its principal authority? And, is it true that Mr. Quentin Williams will be joining the company's management?"
The air shifted. This was the question everyone had been waiting for.
Anna straightened, her tone firm. "My grandfather's death was unexpected, but he had not been in good health for some time. He had already made arrangements—legal, notarized. His will states clearly that if he became unable to lead the company, I would inherit his entire shareholding and assume full decision-making authority."
She turned toward the projection screen at the side of the stage. "The board members of The Williams Group are here today, and I will take this opportunity to make the will public."
A nod to the staff, and seconds later Vaughn's will appeared on the giant screen. The signature, the seal—everything looked authentic. The text matched her statement word for word.
Anna's pulse quickened. This was the moment she had engineered. Vaughn's lawyer had already been bought. No one would ever know the document was a forgery. Once it was out there, her control over The Williams Group was untouchable.
The Williams Group was one of Celestria's flagship assets, valued in the hundreds of billions. A change in leadership was a seismic event. And now, with Vaughn gone, Anna—just twenty-three—would be holding the reins alone. She would be the youngest wealthiest woman in Celestria, second only to Sophie.
Cameras clicked in a frenzy, capturing every line of the will on screen. No one challenged it. No one raised a question about her right to inherit. Perfect. Exactly as she had planned.
The Williams Group. Michael. Her new social standing. The flood of praise. Everything she had reached for was now in her hands.
And then, out of nowhere, a voice cut through the room like a blade.
From the middle rows, a young woman stood. Hoodie, baseball cap, mask. Her eyes locked on Anna. "Excuse me, Ms. Williams," she said, loud enough to carry. "Was Mr. Vaughn Williams's fall really an accident?"
Anna froze.
The woman's gaze didn't waver. "I heard there were no witnesses. Is it possible… that it was murder?"
The word cut through the room like a knife. For a few seconds, nobody moved. Reporters glanced at each other, some leaning forward, others blinking as if they hadn't heard right.
On stage, Anna felt the first bead of sweat slide down her spine. She hadn't expected this. Not here. Not now.
She forced her expression into one of offended disbelief. "Excuse me," she shot back, voice edged with anger. "Which media outlet are you with? What exactly are you implying?"