Chapter 3: The Retaliation of the Vances
Two days later, the Vance family found themselves stranded. True to his word, Preston’s security team had arrived at the mansion with moving boxes and legal notices. Victoria and Gabriela were forced to move into a mediocre, two-bedroom apartment—a place they considered a slum compared to their previous luxury. Their credit cards were declined, and their social standing was in tatters. The story of how they treated Preston’s wife had leaked to the press, making them social pariahs.
Desperate and furious, Victoria refused to go down without a fight. She called an emergency family meeting in their cramped new living room.
"We made him who he is!" Victoria slammed her cheap plastic cup onto the table. "Without the Vance name, he would be nothing! He thinks he can ruin us for that nameless, penniless girl? We need to strike back."
"But Mom, how?" Gabriela whined, looking at her chipped nails. "He controls all the assets. The lawyers say the contracts are ironclad. He owns the company."
"He owns the company, but he doesn't own public opinion," a cynical voice spoke up. It was Julian, Preston’s cousin, who had lost his luxury sports car allowance. "Preston’s company relies on major corporate investors who value ethics and family values. If we frame Esther as an unstable, manipulative gold-digger who is isolating Preston from his grieving, elderly mother, the board of directors will panic."
Victoria’s eyes gleamed with malice. "Yes. We play the victims. We tell the media that Esther has a history of mental instability, that she chose to stay in the service quarters because of her eccentricities, and that she is now blackmailing Preston to destroy his own blood."
Within twenty-four hours, a coordinated smear campaign hit the tabloids. Headlines screamed: “Billionaire CEO Preston Vance Manipulated by Unstable Wife?” and “The Hidden Dark Truth Behind the Vance Family Eviction.” Anonymous sources leaked fabricated medical records claiming Esther suffered from severe delusions and paranoia.
When Preston saw the news at his office, his face turned to stone. The air in the executive suite dropped to freezing temperatures.
"Sir, the board is calling an emergency meeting. The stock price has dipped by two percent," his secretary reported, trembling.
Before Preston could answer, his phone rang. It was the penthouse security. "Mr. Vance, we have a problem. Reporters have gathered outside the building. Mrs. Vance saw the news on the television, and she... she’s having a panic attack."
May you like
Preston threw his tablet onto the desk. "Canc
el the board meeting. Tell them if they care more about tabloid gossip than my leadership, they can sell their shares. I’m going home."
