Chapter 197

Chapter 197

Damian's POV

Eli looked at me nervously and persuaded me as she spoke. "Are you sure you want to hand all of Mr. Marty Costello's criminal evidence over to the press? This is a scandal for the Costello Family. If people find out the family's tearing itself apart over power, the Costello name is going to take a huge hit."

Everything he said made sense. That was exactly why I couldn't wait anymore.

I stopped mid-stride and met his confused stare head-on. "Now that I have a child," I asked, "do you really think he'll let me stay?"

With a hard look, Eli faced me with tightly knit brows.

"See?" I let out a thin breath. "It's not like you don't get it."

I looked up and sighed, my eyes filled with helplessness. "Do you think I want to spill every disgusting thing out loud? Do you think I want to turn myself into a joke? I don't have a choice. If it were just me, maybe I wouldn't be in such a hurry, but I have a child now. For my kid, I can't sit here and wait to be crushed."

I couldn't even stand to picture what Marty might do to my child. If he wanted to come after me, fine. I could take it.

But I refused to let him harm my child.

And Olivia. She'd already become my weak spot, the kind you don't admit until someone's got a knife there. I couldn't let her fall into danger. Because of me, she might fall.

Eli followed behind me for a long time, his face growing darker with every step.

Once he understood what I was doing, he fell silent and followed me quietly.

The press conference was packed with reporters and other important personnel. Despite the crowd, I steeled my nerves and controlled my breathing.

Eli put all the evidence on the projection, and the reporters all looked excited when they saw the content.

Watching them, I felt something bitter curl in my stomach. They treated other people's pain like entertainment, and their favorite part was always digging for what caused it.

Flashbulbs popped in my face. I didn't blink. I just looked straight at them and waited for questions.

No one spoke.

I swept my gaze across them one last time. "If there aren't any questions, we're done. I hope you publish everything you saw today. And I mean all of it. The farther it spreads, the better."

Before they could snap out of it, I turned to Eli and motioned for him to leave with me.

The second we stepped outside, my phone rang.

It was Marty.

I answered on the first ring. With a tone filled with rage and humiliation, he ordered me to get back into the conference room immediately.

I couldn't help it—I laughed softly under my breath. "I'm already on my way back, my dear uncle. I'm guessing you saw the press conference. When we meet in a minute, I really want to hear what you're going to say to me."

On the other end, silence dropped like a door slamming shut.

With nothing left to say, I hung up and got into the car.

When I got back to the company, Marty and the other shareholders were already waiting.

I pushed open the conference room door, and Marty shot up from his chair like he'd been yanked by a wire, fury all over his face.

I hadn't even sat down before he pointed at me, his hand shaking. "Damien, what the hell are you doing? I'm your uncle. Why are you trying to smear me?"

His jaw worked as if he were grinding his teeth down. His brows were drawn tight, his mouth twitching with anger so raw it looked almost painful.

I lifted my chin, cold and steady, and met his eyes with a smile that didn't reach anywhere warm. "I heard you've been buying up shares lately. Consider that press conference a little gift. Did you like it?"

Marty's face went a sick, angry shade, and he paced in front of me like he couldn't stand still in his own skin.

A few minutes later, he stopped and demanded, "What do you want? If you had questions, you could've come to me. Why would you tell a room full of people that I killed your parents?"

I laced my fingers together on the table and looked at him like he was putting on a show I'd already seen. "If I really got it wrong, why are you so nervous?"

I leaned forward, closing the distance between us, keeping my voice low enough that it forced him to listen. "What are you scared of?" I asked.

Marty's face went dark.. He slammed his palm onto the table and glared at me with hate in his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You really don't?"

I stood and moved in front of him, bending slightly so we were eye level. Slowly, I spoke. "You want to tell me the evidence I released to the media is fake? If it's fake, why didn't you deny it right away? That's not your style."

"And if you didn't kill my parents, then where did all that evidence come from?" I pressed on.

He froze for half a beat, and I kept going while he was still trying to catch up. "I compared it line by line. Everything matches what happened. Uncle Marty, I want to believe you."

My voice dropped, rougher now, and the air in the room thickened until it felt like it had weight. "But you never gave me the chance."

I narrowed my eyes, locking onto the twisted set of his face. "Uncle Marty, if you can explain every piece of it, I'll believe you. I'm giving you that chance right now. So tell me—which line in there is supposedly wrong?"

Then I turned to the other shareholders. "You've been with this company a long time. I'm sure you know more than you've said."

"Here's the deal. Give me one lead. One piece of evidence. And I'll transfer my uncle's shares to you for free. Time is limited, and so are the shares. If you want in, you can talk to me now."

Eli stood to the side with a notebook, ready to write down whatever they gave me.

The second those words landed, Marty's face sank.

He reached out and clamped a hand around my wrist, his grip hard enough to make a point. He leaned in, voice low and vicious. "Damien, you can suspect me all you want, but don't go too far. You're basically telling them I'm a murderer."

His chest rose and fell in harsh pulls, like his body couldn't decide whether it wanted to fight or fold. For a second, he looked so unsteady I almost thought he might pass out.

Gently, I patted the back of his hand and spoke in a light tone. "Don't worry, Uncle Marty. If I really wronged you, I'll apologize."

I paused, watching his expression. "But if I didn't, then you'll pay what you owe."

Marty was calmer than I expected. The kind of self-control that didn't come from innocence, but from practice. No wonder he'd managed to hide murder for so long without slipping.

He looked at me with open hatred.

Ignoring him, I turned my attention to the shareholders.

The shareholders murmured among themselves. Each one looked hesitant, not ready to be the first to get the ball rolling.

I gave a quiet, humorless laugh. They needed a leader.

I turned to the shareholder closest to me and started asking questions.

After five minutes, the man revealed what he knew.

And once the others sensed Marty was about to fall, they stopped pretending they were loyal. Whatever I asked, they answered, rushing to unload everything they knew, like they couldn't wait to hand it over.