Chapter 23
The ding of a notification shattered the uneasy calm in Emma’s hospital room. She reached for her phone, expecting another message from the nurses about the twins’ status or perhaps a routine update from Marcus. Instead, the screen lit up with an influx of news alerts and messages from numbers she hadn’t heard from in years.
Frowning, she unlocked the phone and opened the first link. The bold headline struck like a slap to the face:
“Romance in the Hospital? Emma Barrett Spotted with Thomas Hamilton.”
Her chest tightened as she swiped to the next one.
“Trouble in Paradise for the Barretts?”
Her breath quickened. One more headline appeared, the letters sharp and glaring:
“Exclusive: Emma Barrett’s Past Schemes Uncovered.”
Her hand shook as she scrolled down, her stomach lurching at the accompanying photos. The first showed Thomas leaning over her hospital bed, his face tender as he adjusted her pillows. Another caught him holding her hand during one of her lowest moments, the anguish on her face unmistakable. The final shot—the one that sent a cold wave crashing through her—was a perfectly timed photo of Thomas handing her a tray of food, his smile warm and genuine.
To the world, it painted a damning picture of intimacy. To Emma, it felt like a betrayal she couldn’t explain. Her phone slipped from her fingers onto the bed, her breath catching in her throat.
“How did they even get these photos?” she murmured, her voice barely audible, the words thick with disbelief.
Across the room, Thomas looked up from his laptop, his jaw tight and eyes stormy.
“The hospital’s security was supposed to be airtight,” he said darkly. “Whoever took those pictures had inside access. Either someone was bribed, or the Diaz family has more connections than we realized.”
Emma buried her face in her hands, her breathing uneven.
“This is exactly what they wanted,” she said, her voice muffled and thick with bitterness. “To make me look like the villain.”
Thomas stood and crossed the room in a few long strides, kneeling beside her bed.
“You’re not the villain, Emma,” he said firmly, his voice carrying a weight of conviction. “Anyone who knows you won’t believe this trash.”
She let out a bitter laugh, her hands falling to her lap.
“You think Alex believes me? Or his family? Or the board members at Barrett Industries? They’re probably eating this up, every single word and image.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened. He didn’t have an answer for that, and his silence only confirmed her worst fears.
That pause was all the confirmation Emma needed, and it crushed her. Her chest heaved as she fought back the tears threatening to spill.
“This isn’t just an attack on me,” she said hoarsely. “They’re dismantling everything I have left, piece by piece.”
* * *
By the time the nurse entered to check Emma’s vitals, the storm outside her hospital room had only intensified. It wasn’t thunder and rain, but a relentless media frenzy, with every news channel dissecting her life under an unflinching spotlight.
The television blared yet another breaking news segment, the words “Exclusive Interview with Elliana Diaz” flashing across the screen in bold letters. Emma froze, her grip tightening on the remote as the anchor’s voice filled the room.
“Elliana Diaz, wife of prominent businessman Luka Diaz, sat down earlier today for an exclusive interview. In it, she shares her thoughts on the growing controversy surrounding Emma Barrett and the Barrett Industries family.”
Emma’s stomach churned as the screen cut to Elliana, seated in what could only be described as a set-piece of luxury. The Diaz estate’s opulent living room served as the perfect backdrop for her polished, poised image. Her scarlet blouse and perfectly coiffed hair were as calculated as the words that left her mouth.
“Emma is a fascinating woman,” Elliana began, her voice smooth and deliberate, with just the slightest edge of condescension. Her hands rested delicately in her lap, fingers intertwined. “She’s always been… resourceful. Ambitious. I think that’s what drew Alex to her in the first place. He saw potential in her.”
Emma’s chest tightened, her heart thundering against her ribs. She grabbed the remote and turned up the volume, the words stabbing at her like barbed wire.
The journalist, a seasoned reporter clearly reveling in the juicy topic, leaned forward with a smile that hinted at more. “What do you mean by ‘resourceful’? Could you elaborate?”
Elliana tilted her head slightly, the move almost imperceptible, but enough to exude control. Her smile widened just enough to hint at an answer without saying too much.
“Well,” she said, her tone light but edged with suggestion, “Emma has a talent for… positioning herself. She’s very skilled at understanding what people want and how to give it to them. It’s how she rose through the corporate world so quickly. But sometimes, that level of ambition can lead to… poor decisions.”
Emma’s blood boiled, her pulse pounding in her ears.
The journalist’s smile turned razor-sharp. “Are you suggesting her relationship with Alex Barrett was a calculated move?”
Elliana hesitated, her expression shifting just enough to seem conflicted. The pause was deliberate, perfectly timed to create a ripple of doubt.
“Oh, I would never accuse her of that,” she said, her voice laced with false modesty. “But… if you consider the timing of their relationship, the suddenness of it all… it’s fair to say there are questions. People can draw their own conclusions.”
Emma’s nails dug into her palms, her hands trembling. The insinuation was clear, the damage expertly done. “Turn it off.” Her voice cracked as she tossed the remote aside.
Thomas entered just as the screen went black, his expression thunderous. “I saw it,” he said.
“She’s calling me a gold-digger without actually saying it!”
“That’s exactly what she’s doing,” Thomas said, his voice tight with anger.
“Who’s going to believe me now?” Emma asked, her voice cracking. “They’ve made me out to be a manipulative, scheming opportunist. And they’re so good at it, I’m starting to believe it myself.”
Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but the door burst open before he could respond. Marcus strode in, his usual calm replaced by a sharp urgency. In one hand, he carried a folder stuffed with papers, in the other, his phone. His expression alone sent a chill through the room.
“We’ve got bigger problems,” he announced, his tone clipped. Without waiting for a response, he crossed the room and dropped the folder onto Emma’s bedside table. The sound of its weight landing on the surface seemed to reverberate in the tense silence.
“What now?” Emma asked, her voice already weary from the avalanche of attacks she’d been enduring.
Marcus flipped open the folder, revealing a collection of reports and screenshots. He pulled one to the top and pointed to it. “This just started circulating online,” he said grimly.
Emma leaned forward and read the text of a social media post. It was written by someone claiming to be a former classmate.
“I always knew Emma Barrett was bad news. Back in college, she’d do anything to get ahead—even if it meant stepping on the people who helped her.”
Emma’s stomach dropped. “That’s… completely fabricated. I barely even knew that girl!”
Marcus’s face was hard, his jaw tight. “She’s not the only one. Two more posts have popped up in the last hour. Different people, same story. They’re claiming you lied, cheated, and used underhanded tactics to get scholarships, internships, and eventually your job at Barrett Industries.”
Thomas’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “And people are actually buying this nonsense?”
“Oh, they’re buying it,” Marcus said, his tone bitter. “But here’s the kicker.” He pulled out another document from the folder and placed it in front of Emma. “I traced their bank accounts. Each one of them received significant deposits within the last month—from shell companies tied directly to Diaz Enterprises.”
Emma’s eyes widened as she stared at the document. The paper felt cold under her trembling fingers as she read the highlighted sections showing the deposits and their origins. “They’re paying people to lie about me?”
“Of course, they are,” Marcus said, his voice calm but tinged with anger. “It’s a classic character assassination. If they make you look bad enough, no one will care about what you have to say, even if you’re telling the truth.”
Emma’s chest heaved with fury as she processed Marcus’s words. Her initial disbelief gave way to a simmering rage, her fingers tightening around the edge of the document.
“This isn’t just an attack on me,” she said, her voice shaking. “It’s an attack on my integrity, my career—my entire life. They’re trying to destroy me.”
“They want to isolate you,” Marcus said. “Make you seem so untrustworthy that no one will believe anything you say. It’s calculated.”
Thomas leaned closer, his expression dark and determined. “Then we need to hit back. Hard. We don’t just expose this—we bury them with it.” He paced the room, his frustration palpable. “We need to go public with this,” he said. “Expose the fact that these so-called witnesses were bought and paid for.”
Emma shook her head. “And then what? Elliana and Luka will spin that, too. They’ll make it look like I’m trying to silence critics.”
Marcus frowned. “She’s not wrong. They’re experts at turning the narrative against their targets. We need more than just a defense—we need a bombshell that makes them look like the liars they are.”
Emma leaned back against her pillows, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. “I’m tired of playing defense,” she said quietly. “We need to hit them where it hurts.”
