Chapter 3 - The Global Explosion
By midnight,
the post had reached ten million views.
The comments were a battleground of outrage,
sympathy,
and corporate panic.
In New York,
the public relations team of Knightley Enterprises was gathered in a glass boardroom.
Phones were ringing off the hooks,
reporters demanding official statements.
"We need to issue a denial,"
one executive shouted,
slamming his laptop shut.
"Deny what?
The photos are crystal clear,
the maternity file has his signature,"
another replied.
The image of Gideon holding the newborn baby was on the front page of every digital news outlet.
The caption read:
"The Billionaire's Secret Heir and the Betrayed Wife."
In her luxury apartment,
Felicity sat on the edge of her bed,
clutching a silk robe around her.
The hospital room had been chaotic after Gideon ran out,
leaving her alone with the crying infant.
She looked at her own phone,
watching her social media accounts fill with vitriol.
People were calling her a homewrecker,
a gold digger,
demanding she be canceled.
She reached out to touch the baby's small hand,
her tears falling onto the expensive linen.
"He will come back,"
she whispered to herself,
trying to find comfort in the lie.
"He promised me we would be a family."
But deep down,
she knew Gideon's true motivation.
He didn't love her;
he loved the legacy she provided.
And now,
that legacy was stained with scandal.
Meanwhile,
in a penthouse across town,
Gideon's primary business rival,
Arthur Vance,
poured himself a glass of whiskey.
He stared at the viral post,
a slow,
calculating smile spreading across his face.
"Well,
well,
Gideon,"
Arthur murmured,
swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
"You finally underestimated the one person you shouldn't have."
Arthur knew Clara,
or rather,
he knew of her quiet intelligence.
She had always been an ornament at Gideon's side,
but this move was brilliant. It was precise,
lethal,
and perfectly executed.
He picked up his phone and dialed his secretary.
"Find out which flight Mrs. Knightley took to London,"
he commanded.
"And book me on the next available seat."
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The chess pieces were moving,
and the king was cornered.
