Chapter 234

ANTON’S POV

I remained awake. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t try. The quiet night hours were filed with terse phone calls, and a fury that burned constantly in my chest.

My office was lit like it was midday. Coffee followed freely.

Damian was on the line. I could picture him pacing as he made calls after calls. My legal team were in the next office, the PR team another.  The  private investigators I hired worked remotely as they combed locations and made their findings. They made their submissions hourly.

We were building a war machine.  Michael Fisher was the target.

I gave crisp and brutal commands “Verify everything.”….“Hit back harder.” “Don’t stop digging.”

By 6 a.m., the campaign was live.

My PR director, a veteran with ice in her veins, published the official statement across every major outlet. It was on  all social media platforms , print newspaper, online news, and TV.

It was straight to the point, aggressive, and loaded with facts.

“The recent defamatory claims made by Michael Fisher are vehemently false and malicious in intent. Dr. Queenie Andrew is a respected physician. A medical professional with a decade of humanitarian service in under manned regions. The video used to portray her as unstable , vicious and cruel person has   proven to be manipulated. We are filing a defamation lawsuit seeking damages and injunctive relief. Mr. Fisher will be held accountable to the full extent permitted by the law ”

The narrative changed almost instantly . Various news stations started airing the timeline: Queenie’s medical work abroad, the questionable timing of the video leak, the subsequent CPS hearing and now Michael’s slanderous public remarks.

I leaned back as the morning headlines broke:

“Billionaire Blackwood Hits Back: ‘Protecting My Family.’”

“Lawsuit Filed: Michael Fisher in Legal Hot Seat Over Defamation Claims.”

“Dr. Queenie Adams’ Humanitarian Record Speaks Louder Than Accusations.”

That’s the first wave of attack. I hope he is ready for the tsunami that’s coming his way. He will chest deep in lawsuits when I’m done with my attacks.

I saw the media picked up the statement and started asking some questions, probing Michael statements.

Good. A welcome change but I didn’t celebrate. Not yet.

The media was a double-edged sword. They can cut in any direction. They can be that fickle.

Social media turned into a battlefield of opinions and counter claims. On one side: supporters inspired by Queenie’s story and the other side: trolls, skeptics, and conspiracy theorists who held onto Michael’s version like it was gospel.

Every comment and post that attacked Queenie hit me in the gut.

I stayed locked in my office for almost the duration of the day. I kept track of the damage, narratives and the steps carried out for the legal motions.

I was livid and I was less than a hair breath from loosing it.

At 4:17 p.m., everything shifted again.

My phone rang. It was my lead attorney.

Well what could it be this time?

I answered immediately. “Talk.”

He didn’t sugarcoat it. “A woman just came forward. She’s a former nurse from Ghana. She’s claiming Queenie diverted medical supplies for personal gain. That she falsified reports.”

My blood went cold. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I clenched the phone tightly as I growled with venom running through my veins.

“She’s giving a statement to The Daily Report tomorrow. They’re previewing it as a ‘whistleblower exposé. They are obviously treating it as a big deal.’”

“Bullshit,” I snapped as a vein in my neck ticked rapidly. “This is orchestrated. Michael is definitely this. I guess he is starting to feel the heat.”

“Almost certainly. I’m betting Michael paid her off. But that won’t matter to the headlines.”

I stood. I walked to the window and stared at the city landscape. “What’s her name?”

“Rebecca Armah. She worked in the Volta region. We’re pulling her employment records now. But Anton, this could hurt and hurt really badly . Especially with Queenie’s CPS monitoring still active. This could bleed into that.”

I kept staring at the horizon and without pause,  “Then discredit her. Bring up her past. I want every clinic report, every paycheck, every fuckup she ever made. Get locals. Get staffers. Offer protection to anyone she might intimidated into silence. Intimidate those who she might have bribed. Get boots on the ground in Ghana if you have to. I don’t care what you have to do, just do. Money is not object.”

“We’re on it,” He replied. “This will definitely hurt her in the court opinion seeing as she was making a headway before.”

I ended the call and stared out the window. The city looked normal and carried on as if nothing was at stake.

Everything is at stake. How can everything look so normal? It was vexing. I had a mind to smash the window or something. I grunted in frustration as I made my way back to my seat and sat down forcefully.

Michael was relentless. He was willing to wreck lives and destroy reputations  even Queenie’s medical career just to hurt her.

I understand it now. This bastard wasn’t going anywhere. It will take more than a lawsuit to deal with it. I had underestimated him before, but now it was clear: This would be a siege. A war of attrition . That was the only way to completely crush him.

I ran a hand  through my hair. A wave of  fatigue struck me and I felt the stress that I had subjected my body to.

Queenie face from last night haunted me.  I could still her face. That memory has been ingrained in my mind. It wasn’t her tears. It was her silence that broke my heart. She thinks it’s hopeless. Nothing can be done.

The more I thought about it, the more infuriated I became. Because none of this was her fault. She was just doing her best to survive, raise Junie and help people.

And what was her gain?  She was paying for it in blood.

I stared at the framed photo on my desk. It was a picture of  me, Queenie, and Junie from a month ago.

That seemed like a lifetime ago. Good gracious!

We were smiling, happy as larks at some street fair.  Junie had a messy cotton candy in her hand . That photo had been pure. It was everything I was fighting for.

I sat down and dialled Damian line. He picked on the first ring.

“ Have you had any rest?” he asked briskly.

“ I can rest later.” retorted. There was a pause over the line. “ You know you are no use to her worn out and knackered.”

I ignored his remark and went to the crux of what I called him for.

“Start assembling interviews. I need  reputable outlets only.  I don’t need the gossip trash and bottom feeders news station.  I want a televised sit-down with Queenie. It will be controlled and credible  chance for her to finally speak and say her own of the story.”

“She’s going to be hesitant,” Damian warned.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to her,” Anton said. “But we’re taking the offensive now. No more defense. I’m tired of having seeing her being pushed around.”

Damian sighed. “ Alright then.” He dropped the call.

I fired off a few more messages, then forced myself to take a breath.

Damian was right. I was no use to her knackered. I called my PA and had booked lunch for me at an restaurant.

I had been reacting to Michael’s chaos.

No more of that from now on. I had taken the reins from him. Now, they were going to take control.

This wasn’t about silence. Or retreat.

This was about war. A war in which no quarters will be asked or given.

And Queenie wasn’t going to fight it alone.

When I finally made it back to the house that night, Queenie was in Junie’s room, quietly reading to her.

I leaned on the door as I watch them.  Her voice was soft but steady. Junie, who was almost drowsy with sleep, clutched her stuffed rabbit. The sight softened him, briefly.

When Queenie came out, she didn’t speak immediately.

I took her hand and led her to the couch.

“There’s something you need to know,” he said. “Another accusation’s coming. A woman from Ghana. I wanted you to hear it from me so you can brace yourself for the backlash that will come.”

Queenie didn’t say anything at first. She just blinked rapidly as she processed the information. “Let me guess. She suddenly remembered a bunch of crimes I committed.”

“She’s calling herself a whistleblower.” I further explained.

She closed her eyes. “Of course she is.”

I felt a pain in my chest.

“I’m not going to let it see the light of day,” I said. “I’ve already mobilized a response.”

I paused and stared at her for a while.

She asked. “ what’s it?”

“I want you to do an interview. A real one where you get to speak your truth. I’ll be with you the whole time. But people need to hear you firsthand.”

Her lips trembled slightly. “And if it backfires?”

“Then we stand in the ashes together,” I said without missing a beat. “But I don’t think it will. The world has heard Michael. Now it’s time they listened to you.”

She stared at me for what seemed like an eternity as I wait with bated breath. Finally, she nodded once.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s burn this bastard down.”

I squeezed her hand.

And for the first time all day, I let myself believe we might win this after all.