LightReader

Chapter 186 - CHAPTER 182: COMPOSURE BEFORE THE STORM.

CHAPTER 182: COMPOSURE BEFORE THE STORM.

Timothy laughed darkly, folding his arms as he leaned against the table.

"Hold on, Daryl… You mean fake a mistress? Come on. No way in hell James is ever going to fall for that. Not even Diana. It'll barely scratch the surface, let alone do any damage."

"No," the woman cut in smoothly, her eyes glittering like shards of broken glass.

"We won't fake one." She paused. "We'll plant one."

Her tone sent a chill through the room.

"Someone of our own," she continued, voice velvet and venom. "Make it messy. Make it believable. And most of all, make it bleed."

The silence that followed was thick.

Then Timothy chuckled lowly, clapping his hands together like a delighted puppet master.

"Now that's more like it," he said, flashing a grin. "At least something I can get behind."

The woman turned slowly to Daryl, her gaze sharp, waiting for his take.

Daryl grinned. "Whatever gets the job done."

He looked toward Timothy. "Then let's make it happen."

The woman stepped forward, her heels clicking like distant gunshots against the polished concrete floor. Every movement she made was calculated power.

"Timothy," she said coolly, "I trust you can handle this."

Her tone dropped, low and lethal.

"We don't just need a mistress, we need a narrative. A whole damn illusion, crafted with care, designed to shatter trust, love, and logic."

She stopped right in front of him, her shadow draping over his shoes like a promise.

"You'll create the digital trail; messages, photos, voice notes. We want the world to believe James has moved on."

She turned toward Daryl, voice dropping to a whisper of steel.

"But not just with any woman…"

"It has to be someone believable," she continued. "Someone familiar. Someone with access."

Daryl arched a brow. "Don't tell me you're thinking of Belle or Cassandra."

Timothy scoffed. "They wouldn't dare. Not after what James did to them."

"Don't worry," she said with a knowing smirk. "I already have the perfect weapon in mind."

She picked up her phone and dialed. The line rang twice before the voice on the other end answered, but only her side of the conversation could be heard.

"Hello, Vince…"

A pause.

"I know. And this is the last favour I'll ever ask of you."

Another pause.

"She doesn't need to know about this. Let's keep it between us."

She sighed. "I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't urgent."

A beat passed, her tone turning softer—deceptively so.

"I need everything you had, all the backup files, the hidden folders. Everything you kept for insurance."

A longer silence.

"Yes, Vince. Please. My life is at stake here."

Then, softly but firmly, "Thank you. I owe you. Triple."

She hung up with a satisfied smile and turned back around.

"Well?" Daryl and Timothy asked in unison, their curiosity sharpened like blades.

"The trap is set," she said, her voice slick with triumph. "I'll be sending you everything you need by tonight, Tim. You can begin from there."

Timothy nodded. "And if they survive this?"

The woman smiled, slow, dark, and wicked.

"Then we move to Phase Two," she replied. "But trust me… after this?"

She leaned back against the table, eyes gleaming.

"They won't recover anytime soon."

She crossed her arms, satisfaction radiating off her like smoke.

"All we have to do… is sit back and enjoy the show."

At Stone Group Headquarters, James stood in front of the tall glass windows of his private office, silently watching the city skyline awaken beneath a pale morning light.

Though early, a swarm of media vans already lined the gates. Flashing cameras. Reporters rehearsing live broadcasts. The hum of chaos built in slow waves.

From down the hall, muffled voices leaked from the boardroom, executives, legal, PR, nervousness visible on their hushed tones. But here, in this glass fortress, James remained still.

He adjusted the cuffs of his black suit. Perfect cut. No wrinkles. Sharp. Commanding. Just like the statement he was about to deliver.

Angelo entered quietly, respectfully.

"Chairman," he said, "the media team is ready. Your scripts have been reviewed and finalized per your notes. The stage is prepped. The board has approved every word."

James gave a small nod, saying nothing.

Angelo hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure you want to do this yourself? We could still let PR handle it."

James turned then, his voice cold and clean like steel dipped in frost.

"They dragged my wife through the mud, Angelo. They dared touch what's mine." His jaw flexed. "The world needs to hear it from me."

Angelo nodded once, respectfully. "And Diana... should we mention her in the statement?"

"No," James said instantly. Then, after a beat, his voice softened. "Not yet. Let her rest. She's already been through more than enough."

Just then, a knock. Jerry stepped in, tablet in hand, face grim.

"James," he began, "all traces of the scandal have been cleared. Scrubbed even from the deep web. It's as clean as it can be... but," he hesitated.

James turned fully, sensing the shift.

"There's something else," Jerry continued. "New content is surfacing, fake messages, doctored images, AI-generated voice notes. It's all too clean, almost untraceable. Someone's trying to spin a new narrative."

James' jaw tightened, his silence deafening.

"It hasn't gone viral yet," Jerry said. "But it's brewing and it's ugly."

James turned back to the window, the golden light of the city glittering in his reflection. But his eyes were on something much darker.

"Let them try," he muttered. "This time... I fight back my way."

"Ready for the press, sir?" Angelo asked from behind.

James exhaled slowly. Calm. Controlled. His face unreadable.

"Let them in."

_________________________________________________

The grand conference hall of Stone Group was packed to the brim.

Local and international media filled the space, journalists, photographers, videographers, all buzzing in a tense swarm. The air was sharp with anticipation.

At the center stood the podium, dressed in deep black, the gold insignia of Stone Group gleaming beneath the chandelier. Security lined the walls. Microphones blinked red, cameras rolled, and then.....

Silence.

James Deniro Alfred walked in.

Clad in a sharply tailored charcoal suit, navy shirt unbuttoned at the collar, no tie, his presence was a statement of strength, control, and barely leashed power. He walked like a man who commanded chaos, not one chased by it.

He reached the podium, adjusted the mic, and let his sharp blue eyes sweep the room.

Then he spoke.

> "Good morning.

Over the past few weeks, a lot has been said. Headlines have been twisted. Stories fabricated. Names dragged.

And while I understand the need for public opinion in a democratic society, I also understand the danger of a single lie when spoken loud enough.

I have watched as my wife; my partner, my family, was ridiculed, judged, and stripped of her dignity by a media storm built on whispers and shadows.

But I am here to say this clearly:

Diana Alfred is not guilty of what the world accused her of.

"A few so-called investors, who forgot what it means to act with integrity thought it wise to make noise, stage threats, and tarnish a woman who has never wronged them a day in her life. You came for her because you couldn't come for me directly."

"Well... I'm here now."

"Let me be clear. The only scandal here is how far people will go when power intimidates them."

"I will not entertain slander against my wife, nor tolerate attacks on the company she built with her bare hands. She is a brilliant woman. A strong leader. A compassionate partner. And anyone who thinks dragging her down will weaken me... is making a fatal mistake.

Let me be clear. This ends now.

The Stone Group has taken over full investment and operational control of Dalf Catering Company, not out of sympathy, but because it is a profitable, visionary, and well-managed business.

"If anyone doubts my resolve, I invite you to try me. You'll discover quickly that I don't issue warnings twice."

"As for my marriage… I will say this once. No one has the right to judge what they don't understand. What exists between my wife and I is ours. Not for the public to dissect, distort, or disrespect."

"I love my wife. And I protect what I love."

We've cleared all false accusations and scrubbed baseless content from circulation. Any attempt to reignite them will be met with full legal force.

And finally... I do not play chess with amateurs.

To those working behind the scenes, I see you. And I am coming."

He paused. Then he nodded at the reporters.

"Now, I'll take your questions."

More Chapters