Counter Attack

"Emergency press conference at city hall," Edward's chief legal counsel repeated over the speakerphone, his voice tight with anxiety. "Arthur has brought five major news networks, Mr. Edward. He is publicly accusing you of corporate fraud, claiming your marriage to Allana is an illegal sham designed to strip James of his rightful place in the company."

Edward disconnected the call without a word. The archive room fell into a heavy silence. He placed his phone on the desk and turned to face me. The cold focus in his gray eyes showed no hesitation—only a dangerous readiness for war.

"Arthur is moving faster than expected," Edward said, his tone perfectly flat.

I didn't step back. A cold, quiet smile touched my lips as I adjusted the lapel of my tailored black blazer. The anxiety that used to control me had completely vanished, replaced by an absolute resolve to take back what was mine.

"Good," I replied, looking straight into his eyes. "An open attack is much easier to crush than a snake hiding in the shadows."

Edward studied my face for a long moment, as if assessing my resolve. After a few seconds, a faint trace of approval crossed his features, and he extended his hand toward me. "Then let's go show my uncle and the board who actually holds power in this company."

Fifteen minutes later, our black sedan cut through the city traffic toward city hall. Inside the vehicle, the atmosphere was charged with quiet tension. I opened the Grand Marina project file on my lap, re-verifying every legal document and structural audit sheet I had brought along.

"Arthur will attempt to play the victim card for the press," Edward said, watching the buildings pass by outside the tinted window. "He will frame James as the wronged heir and you as an opportunistic outsider taking advantage of the Turner name."

"Then we shatter his narrative with hard facts," I interrupted firmly. "Arthur forgot that the modified draft Rose submitted contains critical engineering errors. If he accuses me of manipulating company assets, I will show the press that his beloved candidate almost cost the Turner Group billions in structural liabilities."

Edward turned his head, a small, dangerous smile curving his lips. "You truly leave them no room to breathe, Mrs. Turner."

"They started this fight, Edward," I said softly. "I'm just making sure they can't get back up when it's over."

The courtyard in front of city hall was packed with reporters, flashing cameras, and broadcast vans. On the raised platform inside the atrium, Arthur Turner stood behind a bank of microphones. The silver-haired board member wore a tailored gray suit, exuding an aura of calculated authority. Beside him, James and Rose stood with carefully constructed expressions of shock and betrayal.

"...Edward Turner has disregarded both corporate ethics and family duty!" Arthur's voice echoed through the loudspeakers as we stepped out of the car. "He stripped James of his executive role—a position James earned—simply to satisfy his personal ambitions alongside a low-ranking staff member who holds no corporate standing!"

The crowd of reporters turned instantly as we entered the atrium. Camera flashes lit up the space, blindingly bright.

Edward wrapped his arm firmly around my waist, guiding me straight toward the main stage with calm, measured steps, ignoring the barrage of shouted questions from the press.

"Mr. Edward! Is this marriage a legal maneuver?"

"Mrs. Allana, how do you respond to the allegations of patent manipulation?"

We ignored the noise until we reached the stage, standing directly facing Arthur, James, and Rose.

James froze as his eyes locked onto mine. Raw resentment burned in his expression, but beneath it lay a clear flicker of panic. Rose clenched her fists, the faint red mark on her cheek from yesterday hidden under heavy makeup.

"You have the audacity to show your face here, Edward?" Arthur projected his voice for the cameras. "You bring this woman out after discarding your own nephew from his rightful project?"

Edward reached for the podium microphone. His deep, steady voice instantly cut through the murmur of the crowd.

"I am not here to debate assumptions, Arthur," Edward said coldly. "I am here to present verified facts."

Edward signaled to me. I stepped forward to stand right beside him, opening the official legal folder bearing the municipal registry seal.

"Mr. Arthur Turner claims James was wrongfully removed," my voice resonated clearly through the sound system. I looked straight at the row of news cameras before turning my gaze to Arthur's stiffening expression. "However, the draft submitted by James's division yesterday morning is a direct, unauthorized copy of my registered patent, Serial Number 884-A."

I flipped to the attached engineering balance sheet.

"Furthermore," I continued without hesitation, "the modification made by Rose's studio deleted the secondary wind-shear dampers between levels forty and sixty to cut costs. Had that design proceeded, the structure would face catastrophic stress failure within eighteen months. This is not a family dispute. This is a case of severe professional negligence that endangered company capital and public safety."

The press pool erupted into frantic murmurs. Shutter clicks accelerated as reporters scrambled to note down the technical details.

Arthur’s face flushed with anger. He pointed a trembling finger at me. "This is a baseless fabrication! You are nothing more than a temporary employee trying to—"

"A fabrication?" Edward cut in, stepping forward with absolute authority. "The audit report was signed by the independent engineering board an hour ago. James’s authorization was revoked due to gross incompetence, not my personal life."

Edward leaned in slightly, his dark gray eyes locked onto Arthur with lethal precision. "And as for the inheritance rights and family lineage you keep broadcasting, Arthur..."

Edward reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thin leather folder bearing a black seal.

"Since you brought family matters to the public," Edward continued, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying calm, "let us open the official record regarding the original asset distributions left by Emmily Turner."

The moment the name Emmily was spoken, Arthur went rigid. The color drained completely from his face.

James frowned from behind his uncle, visibly confused by Arthur's sudden silence. "Uncle Arthur? What is he talking about?"

Edward didn't answer James. He stepped closer and slid the leather folder directly into Arthur's hands—close enough so that only Arthur could read the top line of the summary.

"You know exactly what this DNA test and asset trail contain, Arthur," Edward murmured, his voice low enough to stay off the microphones but sharp enough for Arthur to hear every word. "James is not my brother's son, nor is he mine. He is your biological son from your affair with Emmily thirty years ago—a fact you hid so you could use him to reclaim board seats. One more false statement to the press, and I will read these full clinic results live to every news network in this room."

Arthur stared down at the document. His hands shook violently, the paper rattling in his grip. He looked up at Edward with pure dread, before his eyes slowly shifted toward me.

It wasn't hatred in the old man's eyes. It was sheer horror—as if he were staring at the living embodiment of the legacy he had tried to erase decades ago.

Before Arthur could utter a single word of defense, a loud commotion broke out near the atrium entrance.

A squad of uniformed officers pushed through the crowd of reporters. The lead officer stepped onto the stage, pulling a stamped document from his jacket.

"Edward Turner and Allana Morris," the officer announced loudly, his voice echoing across the silent hall. "We have a court order for your immediate surrender regarding an ongoing investigation into corporate tax fraud and the re-opened inquiry into the fatal accident of Emmily Turner."

The flashbulbs froze for a split second.

I stood my ground, turning my head to look at Edward. For the first time since this war began, Edward's jaw was clenched tight, a sharp, dangerous flicker of tension rising in his eyes.