Chapter 6 - The Media Storm
By 8:00 AM on Christmas morning, the snow had stopped, leaving Manhattan bathed in a brilliant, cold sunlight.
Outside the St. Regis Hotel, dozens of news vans, paparazzi, and camera crews were assembled behind police barricades. Headlines across major online tabloids were screaming with sensationalized stories:
TECH BILLIONAIRE ETHAN WALKER SPENDS CHRISTMAS EVE WITH DAUGHTER OF DISGRACED ARCHITECT IN LUXURY SUITE! CORPORATE FUNDS USED TO COVER UP HISTORICAL SAFETY SCANDAL?
Inside the suite, Clara watched the television broadcast in horror. On screen, an old photograph of her father was displayed next to a picture of Ethan leaving his office building the previous week.
"They're destroying him again," Clara choked out, clutching her mug so tightly her knuckles turned white. "They're making him look like a criminal all over again!"
Ethan walked out of the bedroom, fully dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, fresh shirt, and polished shoes. He looked completely unbothered by the media circus outside.
"They aren't destroying him, Clara," Ethan said calmly, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "They're falling into my trap."
Clara blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"
Ethan smiled—a sharp, brilliant expression that showed the tactical genius that had built a tech empire. "Marcus Vance controls three major tabloid outlets in New York. The moment he heard I brought you here, he panicked. He thought he could use the press to intimidate me into staying quiet about his offshore accounts."
He walked over to the dining table and tapped a secure laptop.
"Instead," Ethan continued, "his media blitz gave me the one thing I needed: global attention. In fifteen minutes, I am holding a press conference in the ballroom downstairs. Every major news network in North America will be broadcasting live."
Clara stood up, her heart pounding. "What are you going to do?"
Ethan looked at her, his expression softening into one of absolute respect.
"I am going to tell them the truth about what happened on 5th Avenue yesterday," Ethan said. "And then I am going to present the federal indictment evidence against Marcus Vance to the United States Attorney General."
He held out his hand to her. "Will you walk down there with me, Clara? It's time to take your father's name back."
May you like
Clara looked down at his outstretched hand. She thought of her father’s lonely last days, of the cold apartment on Avenue D, and of her daughter sleeping safely in the room next door. She took a deep breath, threw her shoulders back, and placed her hand firmly in his.
"I'm ready," she said.
