Chapter 58 Splattering Paint
"Oh my God! Everyone says we're living in the best of times, but what happens? Citizens' information is still being leaked left and right!"
"Alaric, you illegally obtained my personal information—you're violating my right to privacy!"
The reporter became even more animated, sensing that Alaric had just exposed a vulnerability.
What an extreme public relations tactic.
Alaric stood calmly on stage, explaining with complete composure how he had obtained the material.
"This information was acquired through proper applications to the relevant police authorities. The source is absolutely legal, compliant, and followed all proper procedures."
Alaric pressed the remote himself, and the large screen immediately displayed the bank statement of Beau's wife.
The reporters who could see clearly erupted in astonishment.
"This is Beau's wife's account," he said clearly. "Three million dollars, offshore shell company."
The room exploded with noise as reporters snapped photos.
"We believe this is a frame-up," he continued. "The Stuart Group will never compromise to false accusations."
"Where's your proof?" A persistent reporter shouted.
"The proof..." Alaric had just begun when Rhys quickly approached and whispered something to him.
He nodded and looked toward the audience.
"The police have arrived to arrest the suspect—that's the best evidence there is."
Harper stood in the shadows backstage, watching Alaric handle the situation with composure. She let out a soft breath.
This crisis management could definitely be counted as successful.
Harper couldn't help but admire Alaric's PR skills; the natural way he stood on stage speaking confidently radiated the charisma of a mature man.
Sharp and impressive—simply perfect!
As soon as the press conference ended, Alaric quickly exited through the back door, meeting Harper, who was waiting for him at the corner.
"You looked good up there," she said softly, her eyes twinkling.
Alaric's ears turned slightly red. "I was just doing my job."
He seemed to have reverted to his college-era self, his demeanor showing a rare touch of shyness.
Harper couldn't help but speak as she would have back in their university days.
"Not everyone could have handled that crisis so beautifully," Harper said, falling into step beside him. "I watched those reporters go from aggressive attacks to complete silence."
Alaric couldn't stop the corners of his lips from curving upward as he turned to look at her.
"What about you? Did you think I looked good too?"
His question was direct, his eyes expectant.
Harper nodded in agreement. "Yes, very handsome. Satisfied now?"
"I suppose," he turned away and continued walking, feigning nonchalance while inwardly delighted. Outwardly, he maintained his Mr. Stuart persona, struggling to control his expression.
They left the company side by side.
The next day was the anniversary of Harper's mother, Niamh's death.
Early in the morning, Harper went to the cemetery with white chrysanthemums. But when she approached Niamh's tombstone, the flowers dropped from her hands.
The tombstone had been splashed with red paint, the jarring color dripping down the stone.
Harper stood frozen, her eyes instantly reddening with anger.
She immediately went to the cemetery management office to request surveillance footage. Seeing her expression, the staff didn't dare delay and quickly retrieved the previous night's recording.
In the footage, a tall, slim figure in a hoodie jumped over the cemetery wall late at night. Though the person deliberately kept their head down, the surveillance camera clearly captured their profile during a turn.
It was Ryder Mellon, Wilder's illegitimate son.
Harper's gaze instantly turned cold.
Without hesitation, she drove directly to Ryder's villa.
Before even entering, she could hear the deafening noise from inside.
Harper kicked the door open forcefully.
A party was in full swing, with people drinking and dancing, surrounding Ryder in the center.
Harper walked straight to the sound system, picked up a baseball bat, and smashed it to pieces.
After the tremendous crash, the music stopped abruptly. Everyone froze, turning in unison to stare at the uninvited guest.
"Who is that?"
"Yeah, where did this crazy woman come from?"
The hall buzzed with whispers, even louder than when the music had been playing.
Ryder, suddenly pulled from his enjoyment of being praised and admired, looked toward Harper with irritation that quickly turned to shock. "Harper? What are you doing here?"
With his arm casually draped over someone's shoulder, Ryder struggled to focus through his drunkenness after recognizing Harper.
Harper held up her phone, showing the screenshot of the surveillance footage.
"You splashed red paint on my mother's tombstone?"
Ryder's expression didn't change at all as he denied it outright.
"What are you talking about? I don't understand."
"The cemetery surveillance captured it crystal clear," Harper's eyes were ice-cold. "I'll give you three seconds. Apologize now, and I might forgive you."
The people around them began whispering, some pulling out phones to take pictures.
Harper swept her gaze across them. "Anyone who dares to take a photo, I'll smash your phone."
Her intensity made everyone withdraw their hands.
Publicly exposed, Ryder showed no remorse. Instead, he looked Harper up and down with malicious eyes and sneered, "I wondered who was ruining my fun, and it's you, the 'bastard daughter'? What, you're upset because some red paint got splashed on that short-lived ghost's grave?"
He deliberately emphasized "bastard daughter," and his entourage of sycophants immediately burst into mocking laughter.
"That's right, Mr. Mellon is the legitimate member of the Mellon family!"
"Some people with questionable backgrounds still dare to cause trouble here?"
A blond man rubbed his hands together and sleazily approached Harper, reaching out to touch her face. "You're pretty good-looking, but that temper isn't nice. Come on, let me buy you a drink to calm down."
Before he could finish, Harper's eyes flashed dangerously.
With lightning speed, her left hand locked around his extended wrist and twisted while her right leg swept precisely!
A heavy thud followed by the man's scream echoed as the previously smirking blond was slammed to the ground with a perfect shoulder throw. He curled into a ball, howling in pain.
The entire party fell instantly silent.
Everyone backed away in fear.
"If you dare insult my mother one more time," Harper stared at Ryder, enunciating each word, "next time it won't be the table that breaks."
Ryder's face turned pale with fear, sobering up considerably. Still, he stubbornly persisted, "You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me," Harper said fiercely. "Now, come with me to the cemetery and clean up your mess."
"Are you insane? You want me to clean a tombstone?"
"If you refuse, that's fine too." Harper took out her phone. "Then I'll call the police. Deliberate desecration of a grave site—that's at least fifteen days in detention. Want to find out?"
Ryder glared at her, grinding his teeth.