~LAYLA~
"Ma’am, we need to address this bribery claim head-on," Helena said over breakfast in the hotel suite, her tablet glowing with the morning’s headlines. "Cassandra’s video is everywhere, and some people are actually buying it."
I nodded, sipping my coffee even though my stomach was churning.
The headlines screamed accusations: "Eclipse Beauty CEO Bribes Police," "Layla O’Brien’s Dark Secret Exposed," "Watson Sister Claims Frame-Up After Miscarriage."
"Our lawyers are on it," I said, setting down my cup with more force than necessary. "But right now, let’s focus on today’s meeting. We close this deal, and it counters all this noise."
Henry joined us from his adjoining room, looking grim as he scrolled through his phone. "The distributor’s team emailed this morning. They want to proceed with the meeting, but we should expect pushback about the scandal."
"We’ll handle it," I said, trying to channel the confidence Axel always seemed to have in these situations. "Eclipse Beauty’s numbers speak for themselves. 175,000 pre-orders don’t lie."
"Neither does viral media," Helena said quietly. "The video has three million views and counting."
"Then we make sure they hear our side," I insisted.
Two hours later, we sat in the distributor’s conference room, facing a panel of six executives. The lead negotiator, a sharp-eyed woman in her fifties named Margaret Claude, folded her hands on the table.
"We love Eclipse Beauty’s potential," she began. "Your product line is innovative, your pre-order numbers are impressive, and your marketing strategy is sound."
"But?" I prompted, sensing the hesitation.
Margaret exchanged glances with her colleagues. "But this bribery allegation that surfaced overnight has blown up everywhere. Social media, news outlets, and financial blogs. It’s the only thing people are talking about regarding your brand."
I leaned forward, keeping my voice steady. "It’s completely fabricated. We have proof, dashcam footage that clears me of everything Cassandra accused me of. The police have it, our lawyers have it, and it’s going to be released to the public soon."
"We understand that," a grey-haired man to Margaret’s left said, shaking his head slowly. "But the damage is already done. Our brand can’t afford the association right now, not when social media is this toxic about it."
"What do you mean?" Helena asked.
A younger executive pulled up his tablet. "There are boycotts trending on three platforms. Petitions against partnering with ’corrupt’ companies. Influencers are calling for accountability. The narrative has spiralled completely out of our control."
Henry jumped in firmly. "This will blow over in a matter of weeks, maybe days. Eclipse’s numbers are still climbing; those 175,000 pre-orders prove that consumers trust the brand. The vocal minority on social media doesn’t represent the actual market."
"That’s true," admitted another executive, a woman with short dark hair. "Your consumer loyalty is evident. But our board is extremely risk-averse, especially after the scandals that hit our competitor last year. They’re not willing to take any chances right now."
"So you’re saying no?" I asked, my heart sinking.
Margaret’s expression softened slightly. "We’re saying not right now. We’re very sorry, Mrs. O’Brien. We genuinely hope to revisit this partnership in the future, but for the moment, we can’t proceed."
"You’re sure?" I pressed, refusing to give up. "We can offer better terms, exclusive rights to certain product lines, extended payment schedules, whatever you need."
"It’s not the terms," Margaret interrupted gently. "The terms are already excellent. It’s purely the optics. Our shareholders would revolt if we announced a partnership right now, while these allegations are trending. We have to protect our existing brand reputation."
"Even though the allegations are false?" Helena’s voice had an edge to it.
"Even then," the grey-haired man said. "In today’s climate, perception is reality. We can’t afford to be associated with controversy, regardless of the truth."
The meeting concluded shortly after, with polite handshakes and hollow promises to "stay in touch." We left the building in stunned silence, the city wind biting through our coats as we waited for the car.
Back at the hotel, Henry immediately started pacing the suite. "I can appeal to their CEO directly. Go over the board’s head. Make a personal pitch."
Helena shook her head, sinking into the couch. "They’re spooked, Henry. Pushing harder will only make us look desperate. We need to let this breathe and regroup back home."
"She’s right," I said, my frustration boiling beneath the surface. "We handle the PR crisis first, get the truth out there, then come back to deals like this."
"Cassandra really did a number on us," Henry muttered. "That video was perfectly timed."
"Almost like she planned it," Helena said darkly.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. A text from Charles: We need to meet. Discuss Cassandra. Drop this nonsense.
I felt a wave of anger rise up inside me. I typed back: Nonsense? She tried to kill me. No meeting. No dropping charges.
Within seconds, my phone rang. Charles’s name flashed on the screen.
One part of me said not to answer it, but I was too angry. I swiped to accept. "What do you want?"
"Layla, be reasonable," his voice boomed through the speaker, that familiar, authoritative tone that used to make me shrink. "Your sister’s suffered enough: a miscarriage, an arrest, public humiliation. Family sticks together."
"Family?" I snapped, standing up. "You disowned me, remember? You threw me out of your house, cut me off completely. Now suddenly we’re family?"
"That was a moment of anger. This is different. Cassandra made a mistake..."
"A mistake?" My voice rose. "She rammed my car off the road! She could have killed me! She attempted a data breach, then lied about a miscarriage to frame me for assault!"
"She’s young, she made poor choices..."
"Young? Those are actions of a criminal!" I was shouting now. "And you enabled every single thing she did. You taught her that Watson money could buy her way out of any consequence."
Henry and Helena exchanged uncomfortable glances but said nothing.
"Layla, listen to me," Charles’s tone hardened. "I can’t have my daughter go to prison."
"Oh, really?" I laughed bitterly. "But you would have her ruin my life because I’m not your daughter."
"W-what do you mean?"
"Drop the act, Charles. I know I’m not your daughter."