The morning headlines were exactly what Richard had hoped for.
“O’Connell Foundation Faces Scrutiny Over Mumbai Project Delays”
“Anonymous Source Reveals Internal Dysfunction in Lena O’Connell’s Flagship Program”
“Has the Echo Project Already Faltered?”
Social media was ablaze with questions, speculation, and carefully planted outrage.
In a dimly lit room, Richard leaned back in a torn leather chair, scrolling through comment threads.
“This is it,” he said, voice thick with satisfaction. “She’s bleeding. Time to make her run.”
Vanessa’s fixer, leaning in the corner, remained cautious. “She hasn’t responded yet.”
“She will,” Richard snapped. “She always plays clean. She’ll try to explain, to spin.”
He tapped the tablet screen with his knuckle. “Let her. The moment she shows weakness—we pile on.”
At the O’Connell estate, Lena stood in front of a large screen in the media command room, surrounded by her team. The article was pulled up behind her.
“We gave them the bait,” she said, “and t
