Chapter 9
The press conference was held in the grand ballroom of the Meridian Hotel. Every major outlet in the city sent cameras. The tabloids that had run Sophia's planted stories sat in the front row, notepads ready.
I wore black. Simple. Expensive. Not a hair out of place.
I stepped to the podium and waited for silence.
"Yesterday, several publications ran stories accusing me of stealing proprietary data from Carter Group during my marriage." My voice carried clearly across the room. "Today, I'm here to set the record straight."
I clicked the remote. The screen behind me lit up with Carter Group's internal server logs.
"These are Carter Group's complete R&D records from the past five years. As you can see, there is no logistics algorithm research. No AI development. No optimization project of any kind."
I advanced the slide. "Carter Group's technology department consists of four employees who primarily manage the company website and email system."
A murmur rippled through the press corps.
"My algorithm was developed independently over three years, built on research I began during my master's program at Stanford and refined using publicly available datasets. Every line of code has a timestamp. Every iteration has documentation."
I clicked again. "Here are my development logs. Dates, repositories, version histories. All predating any alleged Carter Group research—because that research never existed."
The murmur grew louder.
"Now," I said, letting the word settle. "Let me show you what I did find on Carter Group's servers."
The screen changed. Financial records filled the display. Numbers. Dates. Account transfers.
"Fraudulent invoicing on three government infrastructure contracts, totaling $47 million." Click. "Systematic tax evasion through shell companies in the Caymans." Click. "And personal transfers from Carter Group operating accounts to an individual account belonging to—"
Sophia Mills' name filled the screen in bold black letters.
"—the woman who planted yesterday's tabloid stories."
The room exploded. Cameras flashed like strobe lights. Reporters shouted over each other.
I raised my hand and waited for relative quiet.
"I have already provided this evidence to the Financial Crimes Division. An investigation is underway."
I looked directly into the center camera.
"To Nathan Carter and Sophia Mills: you tried to bury me with lies. Again." My voice was steady. "But I am no longer the woman you can silence."
I turned and walked offstage.
Behind me, the chaos I'd unleashed roared on.
Within an hour, Carter Group stock hit its circuit breaker. Trading was suspended.
By evening, Nathan was served with a subpoena. Sophia went to ground. Victoria released a rambling statement blaming "disgruntled former employees" that contradicted itself three times.
Alexander texted me at nine PM: *Extraordinary. Dinner Saturday?*
I typed back: *Make it Friday.*
---
I wore black. Simple. Expensive. Not a hair out of place.
I stepped to the podium and waited for silence.
"Yesterday, several publications ran stories accusing me of stealing proprietary data from Carter Group during my marriage." My voice carried clearly across the room. "Today, I'm here to set the record straight."
I clicked the remote. The screen behind me lit up with Carter Group's internal server logs.
"These are Carter Group's complete R&D records from the past five years. As you can see, there is no logistics algorithm research. No AI development. No optimization project of any kind."
I advanced the slide. "Carter Group's technology department consists of four employees who primarily manage the company website and email system."
A murmur rippled through the press corps.
"My algorithm was developed independently over three years, built on research I began during my master's program at Stanford and refined using publicly available datasets. Every line of code has a timestamp. Every iteration has documentation."
I clicked again. "Here are my development logs. Dates, repositories, version histories. All predating any alleged Carter Group research—because that research never existed."
The murmur grew louder.
"Now," I said, letting the word settle. "Let me show you what I did find on Carter Group's servers."
The screen changed. Financial records filled the display. Numbers. Dates. Account transfers.
"Fraudulent invoicing on three government infrastructure contracts, totaling $47 million." Click. "Systematic tax evasion through shell companies in the Caymans." Click. "And personal transfers from Carter Group operating accounts to an individual account belonging to—"
Sophia Mills' name filled the screen in bold black letters.
"—the woman who planted yesterday's tabloid stories."
The room exploded. Cameras flashed like strobe lights. Reporters shouted over each other.
I raised my hand and waited for relative quiet.
"I have already provided this evidence to the Financial Crimes Division. An investigation is underway."
I looked directly into the center camera.
"To Nathan Carter and Sophia Mills: you tried to bury me with lies. Again." My voice was steady. "But I am no longer the woman you can silence."
I turned and walked offstage.
Behind me, the chaos I'd unleashed roared on.
Within an hour, Carter Group stock hit its circuit breaker. Trading was suspended.
By evening, Nathan was served with a subpoena. Sophia went to ground. Victoria released a rambling statement blaming "disgruntled former employees" that contradicted itself three times.
Alexander texted me at nine PM: *Extraordinary. Dinner Saturday?*
I typed back: *Make it Friday.*
---