Chapter 273: Media Bold, Media Shy
Charlotte's POV
I was sprawled in my favorite velvet armchair, legs crossed with effortless grace, smirking at the chaos unfolding on my tablet. Seraphina Calloway’s press conference was live, and damn, the media storm from my family’s investment in Ravencroft Group was everything I’d orchestrated. All I needed now was to watch that pathetic nobody crumble under the spotlight.
But what I saw instead pissed me off beyond belief.
There she was—Seraphina Calloway—standing before a swarm of reporters, her eyes glistening with perfectly timed tears. That fake-ass vulnerability on her face made my stomach churn. “I’m so grateful to the Whitmore family,” she whimpered, voice dripping with bullshit emotion. “Especially Charlotte. Her generosity during Ravencroft’s tough times… it’s overwhelming.”
I gripped my tablet so hard I nearly cracked the screen. This bitch was good. Too good.
“The fire at the vacation house was traumatic,” she whispered dramatically, her voice breaking. “I woke up choking on smoke, the door jammed… I thought I’d die. If Leander hadn’t saved me…” She looked away, as if the memory was too much to bear.
Give me a goddamn break.
“Charlotte has been so kind,” she continued, her tone suddenly firm. “So magnanimous. I can’t express my gratitude enough. Truly, her gesture is beyond words. If you want details on this incredible act, ask Charlotte herself. This praise is hers.”
I chucked my tablet onto the sofa, the screen freezing on her tear-streaked, innocent-looking face. A masterclass in manipulation. “That scheming BITCH!” I snarled, pacing across the polished hardwood of my living room. “Did you see that crap? She flipped the whole damn narrative on me!”
My mother, Victoria, glanced up from her phone, cool as ever in her cream suit, not a platinum blonde hair out of place. “Lower your voice, Charlotte. It’s tacky.”
“Mom, she’s playing the victim! Making it sound like I invested out of some bleeding heart for her sorry ass. She’s spinning this!”
Victoria set her phone down, crossing her legs with precision. “Of course she is. What did you expect? For her to sob and admit she’s losing her grip on Ravencroft?”
I stopped pacing, fuming. “She’s siccing the reporters on me! They’re probably swarming the gates right now!”
“And that’s a problem because…?” Mother arched a flawless brow.
“Because this was supposed to expose her weakness, not paint me as some charitable saint!”
Mother sighed, inspecting her manicure. “Charlotte, think past your tantrum. What has Seraphina really done?”
“Twisted the story!”
“Yes, but more crucially, she’s publicly tied our family’s investment to Ravencroft—and to your connection with Leander.” A sly smile curved her lips. “She’s handed you a golden ticket to meddle in every corner of Ravencroft’s operations.”
It hit me like a freight train. “She’s opened the damn door…”
“Wide open,” Mother confirmed. “Now you can oversee your investment, sit in on board meetings, dig through financials—all justified. If anyone questions you, you’re just safeguarding Whitmore interests.”
The rage in my chest morphed into wicked satisfaction. “I can waltz into Dorian’s office tomorrow, and no one can say shit.”
“Exactly.” Mother picked up her phone again. “This is chess, Charlotte, not checkers. Play smart.”
I grinned, already plotting. “I’m going first thing tomorrow.”
---
The next morning, I slipped out the estate’s service entrance, dodging the journalists camped at the main gates since yesterday. Amateurs didn’t think to watch the staff exit. My driver sped me to Ravencroft Group headquarters, and I entered via the executive garage, avoiding the lobby’s media vultures.
Dorian was in his office, leaning against his desk with that predatory smirk, like a shark smelling blood. “Finally showing your face?” he drawled as I strode in. “You’re the last of our twisted trio to face the press. Seraphina stole the show yesterday.”
I tossed my handbag onto a leather chair. “I saw her sob fest. Oscar-worthy bullshit.”
“She’s getting sharper,” Dorian admitted, sliding into his executive chair. “Learning from the best, I guess.”
“Don’t pat yourself on the back,” I snapped, though I knew he meant me too. “That crying act fools the media, but not us.”
“Obviously.” He gestured to the chair opposite. “So, what brings you here? Checking on your precious investment?”
I sat, smoothing my skirt. “I want updates on those projects causing cash flow problems.”
His face darkened just a touch. “That’s where shit gets messy. The money’s here, sure, but untangling Ravencroft from this disaster is… tricky.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning Seraphina’s woven Calloway Group’s core ops into Ravencroft so tightly, pulling one thread could unravel everything.” He tapped his pen on the desk, irritated.
I leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Then don’t untangle it. Devour it.”
His brows shot up. “Go on.”
“Stop separating Ravencroft from Calloway. Make Ravencroft swallow Calloway whole.” I smirked. “Full acquisition. Strip her of everything.”
“That needs serious capital,” Dorian cautioned. “And it’ll look hostile as hell.”
“The Whitmores have cash to burn,” I shot back coolly. “And hostile? Perfect. I want to yank the rug out from under that bitch until she’s left with nothing but her fake-ass tears.”
Dorian studied me, a flicker of respect—or wariness—in his gaze. Finally, he nodded. “It’s ballsy. Risky as fuck, but the payoff could be massive.”
“I didn’t invest to play it safe,” I reminded him.
A rare, genuine smile crossed his face. “I’m calling a board meeting in thirty. As our shiny new investor and savior, you should be there.” He paused. “You’re ready to pour in more resources for this… expansion?”
“Whatever it takes,” I said, the thrill of victory buzzing in my veins. “I want Seraphina Calloway to know exactly who she’s fucking with.”
Dorian grabbed his phone. “Olivia, emergency board meeting. Thirty minutes.” He looked at me, satisfaction mirroring mine. “Alright, Charlotte. Let’s do this.”
I smiled triumphantly, ready to crush her.