Chapter 5

Wesley's POV

It only took a few days for the news about the Morasca family to be swept under the rug. Of course, there was no need to guess who was behind it.

I didn't care, though, because the more I dug into it, the more disturbed I became.

Everything in that confession letter was true. The Morasca family was indeed responsible for destroying mine.

Before I could make my next move, Eddie called.

"Wesley, there's an antique chess set up for auction at Gadwell Auction House tonight. It's the 'Cloudfall' set your dad used to teach you how to play on. Do you want to go?"

I closed my eyes as the memories started to surface.

That spring day felt just like yesterday. Dad had held my hand as he set a white piece down on the rosewood board.

"Losing is part of the game," he told me. "What matters is learning something from every loss."

The night we went bankrupt, the people from the court showed up so fast that I never even got the chance to take one last look at the study.

I'd been trying to track down our old belongings for years. I never expected this chess set to be the first one to turn up.

"Yeah. I'll be there tonight."

…

By nightfall, Gadwell Auction House was brilliantly lit.

The catalog was filled with all sorts of exquisite items, and "Cloudfall" seemed almost unremarkable among them.

I placed my bids smoothly. My eyes fell on the corner of the rosewood chess box, where a tiny scuff was still visible. It was a scratch I'd made as a kid.

Just as the gavel was about to fall for the third time, a male voice called out from the second floor.

"Hold on."

I looked up toward the sound. Standing under the halo of the crystal chandelier was Trent, with Lindsay right behind him.

I withdrew my gaze and raised my paddle again.

After a few rounds of back-and-forth bidding, Lindsay placed an unlimited bidding raise that outbid all others instantly, completely crushing any chance I had of getting the set.

"Mr. Johnson," Trent said with a smile. "All you have to do is beg me, and I'll give you the set."

The smugness in his eyes was impossible to miss.

I slowly unclenched my fists, placed my bidding paddle on the seat, and stood up.

"Since you love it so much, Mr. Morasca, I won't fight you for it."

Trent froze for a moment, probably not expecting me to give up so easily.

As I stepped out of the auction house, the night wind hit me full in the face, chilling me to the core. I lifted my head and looked at the pitch-black sky, but no tears fell.

That chess set held so many memories of Dad and me. His warmth felt baked into every single piece.

I wanted it back more than anything.

But I knew something very clearly—Dad wouldn't want me to let myself be toyed with over a piece of wood.

I assumed the bidding war over the chess set was the extent of Trent's revenge. That was, until Mom's research paper suddenly became a trending topic online under a shocking headline.

"Renowned Pharmaceutical Researcher Ellen Chambers's Specialty Drug Causes Liver and Kidney Failure; Data Allegedly Falsified to Force Approval."

Because of it, Dad's charitable foundation was also accused of having been nothing more than a corrupt exchange of money and power.

Overnight, two people who had been dead for ten years were vilified across the internet.

"Don't you care most about your parents' reputation? Well, watch me drag them through the dirt."

It was an anonymous text, but I knew exactly who had sent it.

I pulled up the investigative materials on my phone that I hadn't had a chance to release yet.

Ten years ago, I couldn't do anything when my parents' names were smeared. But this time, I was going to expose the whole truth to the public.

…

The press conference was scheduled for the day before I was leaving the country.

It was set to begin at 9:00 am, but by 8:30 am, the venue was already packed.

I plugged the flash drive into the laptop, took a deep breath, and began.

"Thank you all for coming. Regarding the false claims circulating online about my parents and Johnson Pharmaceuticals, I will be presenting evidence to prove that these allegations are part of an organized defamation campaign…"

I clicked the folder.

It was empty.

I froze. The folder containing all my evidence—the one I had triple-checked—was completely empty.

The crowd started to buzz. Shutter clicks, hushed whispers, and snickers filled the room.