Chapter 153
Maya's POV:
I was in the sunroom, pruning the fiddle-leaf fig, when Chloe called.
"Hey, having fun?" I asked, snipping a dead leaf.
"Maya, stop what you're doing," Chloe said, her voice sharp. "I sent you a link. Watch it now."
She hung up. A second later, a notification popped up. I tapped it, and a video loaded.
It was filmed outside the Sterling Global headquarters in the Financial District. A jagged wind whipped around two elderly figures standing near the glass doors. They held a wrinkled banner: ADAM STERLING IS A MONSTER.
Security guards were trying to move them, but the couple screamed at the gathering crowd.
"We are Claire Ashford's parents!" the old man bellowed. "Our daughter saved Adam Sterling’s life! She saved his company! And how does he repay her? He threw her into a mental institution!"
The woman next to him sobbed into a handkerchief. "They won't let us see her! Our poor daughter is being tortured in there!"
"Please!" the man yelled at a passerby filming. "The internet is kind! Help us fight this tyrant!"
I scrolled to the comments. They were brutal.
Does Sterling have a heart of stone? How can he treat his savior like that?
Psych wards are hell. This is illegal imprisonment.
Typical billionaire behavior. Use people and throw them away.
A reply was pinned near the top: I used to work there. It’s a sweatshop. Sterling is cold-blooded. Don't apply there.
Someone posted a photo of Adam.
Don’t be fooled by the face. He’s a predator.
I felt a mix of anger and disbelief. Did these people have any idea who Claire really was? I tried calling Adam. The line was busy.
Ten minutes later, Adam called back.
"Don't worry about the news," he said, his voice steady. "I’m handling it. Just stay inside for a few days. Keep Amy home from daycare."
"Is it bad?" I asked.
"Just a nuisance. I’ll fix it."
"You always say that." I sighed. "Be careful, Adam. Come home early."
"I will."
He hung up. I refreshed the page. The Ashfords had posted another video. The views were climbing by the second.
I knew Adam could scrub the internet if he wanted to. He wasn't doing it. He was letting the fire burn. That meant he had a plan.
I spent the afternoon cooking. A rich stew simmered on the stove, filling the house with a savory aroma.
Around six, I heard the front door open. I ran to the foyer.
Adam looked exhausted, but his eyes softened when he saw me. He stepped inside and immediately scooped me up into his arms.
"You're wearing too little," he murmured against my hair.
"It's warm in here," I said, hugging his neck. "Put me down. Dinner is almost ready."
He didn't put me down. He carried me all the way to the kitchen and set me on the island.
"Smells good," he said.
His phone buzzed. He pulled it out, frowned, and kissed me quickly. "I need to take this."
He walked to the living room, answering in a low voice.
By the time I set the table, he was still on the phone. He hung up, and it rang again instantly.
I walked over and plucked the phone from his hand.
"That's enough," I said firmly. "Dinner first."
Adam blinked, then a tired chuckle escaped him. "Yes, ma'am."
He followed me to the dining room. Amy was already in her booster seat.
"Daddy!" she chirped.
"Hey, princess." He sat down, looking lighter.
We ate in peace. When the meal was over, I handed his phone back. "You can go be a CEO again."
He pinched my cheek and went upstairs to his study. I fell asleep before he finished working.
The next morning, Adam was already dressed in a suit when I woke up.
"Going in early?" I asked sleepily.
"Yeah. Fires to put out." He kissed my forehead. "Go back to sleep."
After he left, I checked the news. It was worse. Influencers were filming reaction videos. Sterling Global shares had dropped five percent.
Two days later, the counterattack began.
A notification flashed across my screen. The Boston Police Department had released a statement.
#BREAKING: Investigation Concludes Cold Case.
I clicked the article.
Police have arrested a suspect, Wayne M., for corporate espionage dating back three years.
The suspect confessed he was hired by Ms. Claire Ashford. She paid him $10,000 to sabotage the healthcare database, orchestrating a crisis so she could step in to 'save' Mr. Sterling’s career and win his trust.
Further investigation revealed Ms. Ashford recently attempted to stab Mr. Sterling’s partner. She is currently undergoing court-ordered psychiatric treatment.
Sterling Global’s official account retweeted the report: The truth matters.
The internet paused. Then, it flipped.
The comments section on the Ashfords' videos turned into a war zone.
She hired a hacker to play hero? That’s psychotic.
She tried to stab his girlfriend? And the parents are defending her?
We were defending a criminal.
Desperate, Claire’s parents started a livestream.
"Why are they attacking us?" Mrs. Ashford asked, looking at her phone screen. "They’re calling us liars."
"It's Sterling!" Mr. Ashford yelled at the camera. "He paid the police!"
"You raised a monster!" a comment popped up.
"Shut up!" Mr. Ashford screamed, losing his temper.
Then, a new thread went viral.
I worked with Claire, a user posted. She was terrifying. I saw her snap a sapling tree in half with her bare hands because she was mad.
Proof?
The user posted a photo of Claire standing over a broken tree, looking unhinged.
Another user chimed in: Finally I can speak. I saw her kick a stray cat behind the office.
WHAT? She hurt a cat?
Okay, she’s done. Lock her up.
The sympathy evaporated. The Ashfords were now public enemy number one.
"Mommy!"
Amy’s voice snapped me out of my trance. She ran into the kitchen. "What's that smell?"
"Oh no!"
I shoved my phone in my pocket and lunged for the stove. I yanked the lid off the pot. A thick cloud of black smoke billowed out. The stew was a charred, crusty mess.
"Mommy, what do we do?" Amy asked, coughing.
I sighed, waving the smoke away. "Well, dinner is ruined. But don't worry." I opened the fridge and grabbed a pack of chicken wings. "How about I make your favorite? Honey BBQ wings?"
Amy’s face lit up. "Yes! The sticky ones!"
"The sticky ones," I agreed, pinching her nose. "Go play. I’ll fix this."
I dumped the burnt meat into the trash. Adam had handled his mess perfectly. Now I just had to handle mine.