Chapter 3 - THE BOARD'S RETALIATION
By Wednesday afternoon, the storm had broken.
“THE BILLIONAIRE’S SECRET DAUGHTERS?”
“GERALD BLACKWELL’S 500-MILLION-DOLLAR GRAVEYARD SECRET.”
The headlines were plastered across tabloid covers and trending across social media platforms. Photos taken with long-range telephoto lenses showed me sitting in the wet autumn leaves beside Matthew’s grave, my head bowed near two little girls in bright red and yellow coats. Other articles published Elena’s name, her address, her salary at the public hospital, and wild speculations that Sophia and Isabella were my secret illegitimate grandchildren.
I sat in the back of my Maybach, watching news trucks idling near the entrance of Elena’s apartment complex. Camera lenses peered into the ground-floor windows. Photographers milled about the narrow sidewalk, blocking the entryway.
"Drive around to the alleyway," I told my driver, Thomas.
We pulled up behind the rusted dumpster in the back alley. Two of my private security guards were already stationed at the service entrance, holding back a pair of aggressive reporters. I stepped out, wrapped my long wool coat around myself, and walked briskly up the fire escape stairs to the second floor.
When I knocked on the back door, Elena opened it almost immediately. She looked exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her nurse scrubs were wrinkled, and her hands were tightly clasped around a dish towel.
Inside, the apartment was dark; the blinds were drawn tightly against the flashing lights of the media vans outside.
"They've been here since six in the morning," Elena said, her voice shaking with a combination of rage and fear. "Two reporters tried to interview Sophia while she was getting into the school bus. I had to pull both girls back inside and call the principal to report them absent."
"I am deeply sorry, Elena," I said sincerely, taking off my hat. "I expected my nephew to push back, but I did not anticipate him leaking the cemetery photographs to the tabloids so quickly."
"Your nephew?" She looked at me, her eyes flashing sharp green. "This is your world, Gerald! My daughters are seven years old! Sophia has a weak immune system, and now she’s terrified to go near a window because people are shouting through the glass asking if I was your son's secret mistress!"
"I am fixing this," I stated firmly. "My legal team is already filing emergency injunctions and restraining orders against every media house involved."
"A legal injunction won't stop them from digging into my life!" Elena countered, stepping closer, her finger pointing at my chest. "Do you know what Richard Blackwell’s lawyers sent to my hospital’s legal department two hours ago? A formal petition demanding a court-ordered DNA test for my daughters! They are publicly claiming I forged organ recipient records to extort money from your family!"
My blood ran cold. "They did what?"
"They are accusing me of fraud, Gerald!" Her voice cracked, tears finally spilling over her eyelashes. "They are trying to drag my daughters into court to prove that Matthew’s heart is inside Sophia! How dare they? How dare anyone treat my children’s survival like a crime?"
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Seeing her tremble, seeing the immense pressure breaking this woman who had fought so bravely alone for five years, something shifted inside me. The corporate strategist in me died, replaced by a fierce, protective instinct I hadn't felt since Matthew was a boy.
"They want a fight," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Then I will give them one they will never forget."
