The Hidden Heiress Revenge – Betrayal Love and Justice
By Lea von Löwenstein
Chapter 6: The Press Conference
Part 1: Press Predators
The Four Seasons’ Grand Ballroom hummed with anticipation as New York’s financial elite gathered for Bennett Financial’s press conference. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over eager reporters and society photographers, all waiting for Manhattan’s newest power couple.
Marcus Thorne strode onto the stage like he owned the world, Olivia Ashworth draped on his arm in what was clearly this season’s Valentino. Their matching smiles could have lit up Wall Street.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Marcus’s voice carried practiced authority, “today marks a historic moment for Pierce Financial.”
Olivia preened beside him, her diamond engagement ring – the one meant for another bride – catching the light.
“Our merger with Asian Markets Trading Group represents not just a business deal,” Marcus continued, “but a vision for the future. A future where Bennett Financial stands among the global elite.”
Cameras flashed as he gestured to the PowerPoint displaying impressive projections.
“Through months of careful negotiation,” he smiled his CEO smile, “we’ve structured a deal that will—”
A laugh cut through the ballroom.
Not just any laugh – a rich, room-shaking sound that seemed to freeze the very air. Heads turned, searching for its source, as the sound rolled through the crowd like approaching thunder.
Marcus’s perfect smile faltered.
The laugh continued to echo through the Four Seasons’ Grand Ballroom, bouncing off crystal chandeliers like a symphony of mockery. Reporters swivelled in their seats, cameras forgotten as they searched for its source.
“As I was saying,” Marcus attempted to regain control, his CEO smile growing brittle, “this merger represents—”
Another peal of laughter, deeper this time, more dangerous. Olivia’s perfectly manicured hand tightened on Marcus’s arm.
“The terms of this deal—” he pressed on, his voice rising slightly.
“Oh, darling,” the voice that cut through the confusion dripped honey-coated venom, “do tell us about the terms.”
Whispers rippled through the crowd. Society columnists began frantically typing on their phones. A Wall Street Journal reporter actually stood up for a better view.
“This is a private press conference,” Olivia’s voice carried a slight tremor. “Security!”
“Private?” The laugh turned musical. “Like your little affair was private?”
Marcus’s face had gone an interesting shade of grey. The PowerPoint behind him continued to scroll through projections that suddenly seemed as substantial as smoke.
“The Asian Markets Trading Group merger is a binding contract,” he declared, desperation creeping into his tone. “A done deal that will—”
The laughter that followed could have shattered champagne flutes.
Part 2: Lost Control
“Security!” Marcus barked, his CEO facade cracking. “Remove this… disruption!”
“Oh, Marcus,” Sophia’s laughter continued to fill the ballroom like expensive perfume. “Still trying to control everything?”
Olivia stepped forward, her Valentino rustling with indignation. “This is that Instagram nobody he was engaged to! The party girl who couldn’t tell stocks from stilettos!”
Cameras swivelled, flashes erupting as reporters scented blood in the water.
“Exactly!” Marcus seized on this, his confidence returning. “Just a bitter ex trying to ruin our moment. This merger is ironclad, the contracts—”
“The contracts?” Sophia’s laughter turned positively musical. “Oh darling, do tell everyone about the contracts. Particularly Section 7.3 about beneficial ownership?”
The color drained from Marcus’s face.
“This is ridiculous,” Olivia’s voice rose shrilly. “Security, remove this social media wannabe before she embarrasses herself further!”
“Embarrass myself?” Sophia’s voice carried that deadly quiet that made Sebastian’s pulse quicken. “Actually, I just came to RSVP for your signing gala. After all,” her smile could have frozen champagne, “it would be terribly rude to miss the moment when I formally cancel the merger.”
The ballroom erupted in chaos as reporters jumped to their feet.
“Cancel?” Marcus’s voice cracked. “You can’t—”
“Five days,” Sophia announced to the frenzied press. “At your lovely signing gala, I’ll explain exactly why this merger is dead in the water. Do wear something camera-worthy, darling. It’s going to be quite the show.”
The Four Seasons’ Grand Ballroom descended into magnificent chaos. Reporters shouted questions over each other while photographers’ flashes turned the crystal chandeliers into strobe lights.
“Miss Zhang, are you suggesting fraud—”
“Mr. Thorne, what about Section 7.3—”
“Is this related to your sudden marriage—”
Marcus grabbed the microphone, his knuckles white. “This is absurd! She has no authority to—”
“No authority?” Sophia’s laugh cut through the cacophony. “Darling, who do you think arranged every meeting with Asian Markets Trading Group? Who structured the entire deal while you were busy with… other activities?”
Olivia lunged forward, her Valentino catching on her Louboutins. “You’re lying! Marcus built this deal himself!”
“Did he?” Sophia’s voice dripped sweet poison. “Then perhaps he can explain the quantum trading algorithms included in the merger? The ones he supposedly developed?”
The Wall Street Journal reporter’s eyes went wide. “The proprietary Zhang Global algorithms? Those are part of this deal?”
Marcus’s face went from grey to green.
“Oh yes,” Sophia purred to the frantically scribbling press. “The very same algorithms that just made certain stock positions rather… precarious. Do check the markets, darlings. They’re particularly interesting right now.”
The sound of dozens of phones being pulled out filled the air, followed by collective gasps.
“This is impossible,” Marcus’s voice had lost all its CEO polish. “You’re just a—”
“A what?” Sophia’s smile could have cut glass. “A party girl? An Instagram nobody? Or perhaps… the architect of your downfall?”
Part 3: Press Pandemonium
The Four Seasons’ Grand Ballroom had transformed into a circus of chaos. Financial reporters were shouting into phones while society columnists live-tweeted the meltdown of Manhattan’s newest power couple.
“Bennett Financial shares dropping—”
“Asian Markets Trading Group releases statement—”
“Zhang Global algorithms central to failed merger—”
Marcus stumbled against the podium, his perfect CEO image crumbling like yesterday’s market predictions. “This is a hostile takeover attempt! She’s trying to manipulate—”
“Manipulate?” Sophia’s voice carried through the chaos like expensive silk. “Oh darling, if I wanted to manipulate markets, I wouldn’t be standing here announcing it to the press.”
Olivia’s mascara had begun to run. “You’re nothing but a jealous ex! Security, why aren’t you removing her?”
The security team shifted uncomfortably, their earpieces apparently delivering interesting news.
“Perhaps,” Sophia suggested sweetly, “they’ve received word about who actually owns this building? The Zhang Global Plaza does have such lovely views of Central Park, doesn’t it?”
The Bloomberg reporter actually dropped his phone.
“The signing gala,” Marcus’s voice cracked, “is a private event. You can’t—”
“Private?” Sophia’s laugh echoed off crystal walls. “Like the private dinners you had with Olivia while I was building your empire? Speaking of building…” she turned to the press, “would anyone like to know who really developed Bennett Financial’s trading platform?”
The chaos reached new heights as reporters practically climbed over each other.
“The trading platform?” The Wall Street Journal reporter’s voice cut through the chaos. “The one that just secured Bennett Financial’s position in Asia?”
“Oh yes,” Sophia’s smile turned predatory. “Would you like to see the original code? I believe I still have it saved on my Harvard thesis server.”
Marcus lunged for the microphone. “This is slander! She’s nothing but a—”
“A quantum computing expert?” Bloomberg’s tech correspondent stood up. “The same one who wrote that groundbreaking paper on financial algorithms last year under a pseudonym?”
The ballroom erupted. Olivia’s Valentino caught on her heel as she stumbled backwards, while Marcus’s perfect Windsor knot had come undone.
“Your entire empire,” Sophia’s voice carried that deadly quiet, “was built by the party girl you thought too vapid to understand derivatives. How does that feel, darling?”
With a smile like liquid venom, she vanished in the press crowd.
Sebastian appeared at his wife’s side, offering his arm with aristocratic grace. “Shall we, darling? I believe we have a gala to prepare for.”
“Indeed,” Sophia smiled, accepting his arm. “Though perhaps we should send Marcus our wedding photos? After all,” she paused at the ballroom’s entrance, “he did help arrange this marriage, in his own way.”
They left to the sound of financial empires crumbling and reporters shouting questions into the chaos they’d created.
