The air outside the Westford Tower felt heavier than usual. Cameras lined the marble steps, microphones tilted forward like spears, and the city hummed with one topic alone.
Today was the reckoning.
Sarah Darselle adjusted the collar of her blazer, heart drumming beneath the thin fabric. Beside her, Eric's face was calm, unreadable, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. Their legal team moved ahead, shielding them from the swarm of photographers shouting questions.
"Miss Darselle! Did you hide the child from him?"
"Mr. Westford, are you resigning?"
"Is it true Laurent Deveraux has evidence against you both?"
The flash of lights was blinding. Sarah inhaled, kept her eyes forward, and walked. Every step felt like an act of defiance.
---
Inside, the press room looked more like a battlefield. A wall of reporters faced a long table where Eric, Sarah, and their counsel would speak. The company's emblem glimmered behind them — once a symbol of success, now the backdrop for scandal.
Eric leaned toward her, voice low. "Remember, facts first. No anger. No defense that sounds emotional. They're waiting for cracks."
She nodded, eyes steady. "I'm not breaking, Eric. Not today."
Their lawyer opened the session, but the questions began before introductions finished.
"Mr. Westford, did you conceal financial records to support a former relationship?"
"Ms. Darselle, are you employed here because of personal favoritism?"
Sarah's throat tightened. She answered calmly. "My position was earned through my qualifications. My personal history does not define my work."
Laurent's shadow arrived twenty minutes later — literally. He walked in through the side entrance, flanked by two attorneys, his expression sharp with arrogance. The room fell silent as he sat opposite them, camera flashes painting the air in white bursts.
"Interesting day for truth, isn't it?" he said with a half-smile.
Eric didn't flinch. "Truth has been waiting for you to show up."
---
The moderator motioned for order. Statements began. Laurent's side presented "evidence": emails stripped of context, photos cropped to imply secrecy, financial summaries doctored to appear incriminating.
Sarah watched in disbelief. "This is fabrication," she said quietly to the mic. "Selective fragments without proof."
Laurent leaned back. "Selective truth is still truth when the full story is ugly."
The words stung, but Sarah held her ground. She opened a folder and slid a stack of verified documents across the table. "Then let's tell the full story."
Each document dismantled one of Laurent's claims — timestamps, independent audits, company policy logs. For every accusation, she had a verified counterpoint.
Eric added evenly, "Mr. Deveraux's narrative relies on omission and distortion. What he calls evidence is manipulation."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
---
Halfway through, a journalist asked what everyone wanted to know. "Mr. Westford, is it true you and Ms. Darselle share a child?"
The question hit like a thunderclap.
Eric looked at Sarah, then faced the cameras. "Yes. Her name is Clara. She's our daughter, and she is not a scandal. She's a child who deserves privacy and respect."
The room erupted — camera shutters, voices, chaos. Sarah felt tears sting her eyes but didn't let them fall. The truth was finally spoken aloud, stripped of shame.
Laurent smirked, ready to strike again. "Then you admit you lied for years."
Sarah turned toward him. "No. We protected a child from people who see headlines before humanity. That's the difference."
The quiet that followed was colder than the flashes. Even the reporters hesitated.
---
By afternoon, social media was split in two: one side condemning, the other defending. Yet the tone had shifted; empathy was rising. Clips of Sarah's calm defense circulated faster than the accusations.
In the boardroom upstairs, Eric met with the directors. Some faces were skeptical, others supportive. "We'll weather this," he said. "But we rebuild on transparency."
Sarah waited outside, watching the skyline darken. Her phone buzzed — an encrypted message. Laurent.
You won today, it read. Enjoy the illusion. The next blow won't be public. It'll be personal.
Her pulse slowed. She closed the message and whispered to herself, "Then I'll be ready."
Eric appeared behind her, exhaustion in his eyes but relief, too. "You were incredible in there."
"So were you."
They looked out at the city — still bright, still buzzing, but somehow quieter. For the first time in weeks, Sarah felt something close to peace.
The reckoning hadn't destroyed them. It had revealed who they really were.