Chapter-Six: War of Words

The call from Titan Security came at five in the morning, ripping me from the first decent sleep I'd managed in weeks.

"Mrs. Blackwood," the voice was crisp, professional. "This is Director Harrison. We need to meet immediately. We've found something."

I was dressed and in the war room within thirty minutes, Dominic beside me looking like he'd rather be facing a firing squad than whatever Harrison was about to show us. Jules arrived moments later, carrying enough coffee to fuel a small army and wearing the kind of expression that meant someone was about to have a very bad day.

Harrison was already there, surrounded by laptops, financial documents, and what looked like surveillance photos. He was a man who'd probably seen every kind of human cruelty imaginable, but something about his face told me this was bad even by his standards.

"What did you find?" I asked, settling into my chair.

"A money trail," Harrison said, pulling up a series of financial records on the main screen. "Lydia Blackwood has been funding a coordinated campaign against you for the past six weeks."

"Six weeks?" Dominic's voice was sharp. "That's right after we got married."

"She started the moment she realized this wasn't just a business arrangement," Harrison confirmed. "Shell companies, offshore accounts, payments to media consultants, PR firms, private investigators. She moved fast once she understood you were actually falling for each other."

He clicked to the next screen, showing a web of financial transactions that looked like a spider's web of corporate warfare.

"She's paid for negative stories about you in twelve different publications. Hired three separate firms to dig up dirt on your time with the Reynolds family. Funded a psychological evaluation company to build a case that you're mentally unstable."

My blood went cold. "What kind of psychological evaluation?"

"The kind that doesn't require you to actually be present," Harrison said grimly. "They've been building a profile based on your public appearances, your hospitalization records, and interviews with people from your past."

"What people?"

"Blake Reynolds. Delilah before her arrest. Several members of the Reynolds household staff who witnessed your marriage breakdown." Harrison's expression darkened. "All paid handsomely for their 'insights' into your mental state."

Jules set down her coffee cup hard enough to slosh liquid onto the table. "They bought testimony to make her look crazy?"

"It gets worse," Harrison said. "She's also been funding research into the Van Alston inheritance laws, looking for loopholes that could invalidate your claim based on mental incompetence."

Dominic stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. "She's trying to have Scarlett declared legally insane."

"That's the goal," Harrison confirmed. "Strip the inheritance, have you committed for psychiatric evaluation, and return control of the Van Alston empire to the next legal heir."

"Which would be Maeve," I said, understanding flooding through me like ice water.

"Lydia and Maeve working together," Dominic said, his voice hollow. "When did that happen?"

"Recently," Harrison said, pulling up more financial records. "The payments to Maeve's consulting firm only started three weeks ago. Looks like they formed this alliance after Scarlett took control of Van Alston."

Harrison pulled up another set of documents. "The media assault begins today. We intercepted communications between Lydia's PR team and several major outlets. They're running coordinated stories questioning your mental fitness."

"What kind of stories?"

"Everything. Your hospitalization after Blake pushed you through the window. Your 'erratic' behavior during the Blackstone investigation. Your rapid rise from 'abused housewife' to 'corporate powerhouse' in a matter of weeks."

"None of that proves I'm mentally unstable," I said.

"No, but it creates a narrative," Harrison replied. "Traumatized woman has breakdown, marries powerful stranger within days, suddenly inherits billions. Is this recovery or delusion? Are her recent actions those of a rational person or someone having a manic episode?"

My phone buzzed. Then Dominic's. Then Jules's.

All at the same time.

"It's starting," Harrison said quietly.

I looked at my phone. News alerts were flooding in faster than I could read them.

"Van Alston Heiress: Unstable and Unfit?"

"Inside Sources Reveal Concerning Behavior from Billionaire Heiress"

"Is Scarlett Blackwood Mentally Competent to Run a Global Empire?"

"Van Alston Board Members Express Concerns About New CEO's Mental State"

"Jesus," Jules breathed, scrolling through her own flood of notifications. "They're everywhere."

I clicked on the first article, my stomach dropping as I read the opening paragraph:

Sources close to the Van Alston family express growing concern about new heiress Scarlett Blackwood's mental stability. The 26-year-old, who recently inherited control of the multinational corporation after a whirlwind marriage and dramatic family revelations, has exhibited increasingly erratic behavior since taking power. "She went from victim to vigilante overnight," says one board member who asked not to be named. "That kind of personality shift raises serious questions about her psychological state."

"This is character assassination," Dominic said, reading over my shoulder.

"This is war," I corrected, my voice getting steadier with each word. "She's not just trying to discredit me. She's trying to destroy the foundation of everything I've built."

Harrison pulled up more documents. "There's more. She's been working with a team of forensic accountants to audit every decision you've made since taking control of Van Alston Industries. They're looking for anything that could be construed as financial mismanagement."

"The Blackstone investigation?"

"They're spinning it as reckless vigilantism that cost the company millions in legal fees and put employee pensions at risk."

"That's insane. We saved the company."

"Facts don't matter in a media war," Harrison said. "Perception does. And right now, they're controlling the narrative."

My phone rang. Catherine Mills from the Van Alston board.

"Scarlett," her voice was strained. "We need to talk. Emergency board meeting in two hours."

"Catherine, what's—"

"The stories, Scarlett. They're everywhere. Board members are getting calls from investors, from the media, from shareholders. People are asking questions we don't know how to answer."

"What kind of questions?"

"Whether the board was right to approve your inheritance. Whether we should have required psychological evaluation first. Whether we need to reconsider the succession."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, feeling the ground shifting beneath my feet. Six hours ago, I'd been the undisputed heir to a global empire. Now I was fighting for my sanity in the court of public opinion.

"They're moving fast," Jules said, still scrolling through news articles. "This isn't random. This is coordinated across multiple platforms simultaneously."

"How do we fight back?" I asked.

"We expose the money trail," Harrison said. "Show that this is a paid campaign, not legitimate journalism."

"Will that work?"

"Maybe. But the damage is already being done. Once the narrative is out there, it's hard to take back."

Dominic's phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his face went white.

"It's my mother," he said.

"Don't answer it," I said immediately.

"I have to. She's probably calling to gloat."

He accepted the call, putting it on speaker.

"Hello, Dominic," Lydia's voice filled the room, cultured and calm as always. "I trust you've seen the morning news."

"I've seen your handiwork," Dominic replied, his voice deadly quiet.

"My handiwork? I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. I've been reading the most concerning reports about your wife's mental state. The poor dear seems to be under tremendous stress."

"Cut the bullshit, Mother. We know you're behind this."

"Behind what? Legitimate journalistic inquiry into whether a traumatized young woman is competent to run a multinational corporation? I'm simply concerned for the wellbeing of fifty thousand employees."

"You're concerned about losing control."

"I'm concerned about my son making the biggest mistake of his life." Lydia's voice hardened slightly. "But it's not too late, Dominic. Scarlett can get the help she obviously needs. Spend some time in a private facility, receive proper treatment for her psychological issues. When she's better, she can have a quiet, simple life away from the pressures that are clearly too much for her."

"And the Van Alston inheritance?"

"Would revert to someone more stable. Someone who could provide proper stewardship for Victoria's legacy."

"Someone like Maeve."

"Maeve has been managing corporate interests for decades. She understands responsibility."

I couldn't listen anymore. I grabbed the phone from Dominic.

"Hello, Lydia," I said, my voice calm as a winter morning.

Silence. Then: "Scarlett. How are you feeling, dear? You sound... stressed."

"I'm feeling like a woman who just discovered that her mother-in-law has been funding a psychological warfare campaign against her since the day she married her son."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Shell companies, offshore accounts, payments to Blake Reynolds and Delilah for their 'insights' into my character. Should I keep going?"

Another pause. When Lydia spoke again, her voice had lost all pretense of concern.

"You have no idea what you're up against," she said. "This isn't just about media stories, Scarlett. This is about proving that you're unfit to handle the kind of power you've stumbled into. And by the time I'm done, everyone will see you exactly as you are—a damaged girl playing dress-up in a world that's too big for her."

"You're right about one thing," I said. "I am damaged. I've been poisoned, pushed through windows, shot at, and threatened by everyone from corporate predators to my own family. But you know what all that damage taught me?"

"What?"

"How to survive. How to fight. How to destroy people who underestimate me." I smiled, even though she couldn't see it. "You just made the same mistake Marcus Blackstone made. You thought you were hunting prey. But you're about to find out you're in a cage with a predator."

I hung up.

The room was silent for a moment.

Then Jules started laughing. "Holy shit, that was beautiful."

"She's not going to stop," Dominic said. "This is just the beginning."

"Good," I said, feeling something cold and dangerous settling in my chest. "Because I'm just getting started too."

I turned to Harrison. "I want everything. Every payment, every contact, every email between Lydia and her media team. I want proof that this entire campaign is manufactured."

"What are you planning?"

"I'm planning to show the world exactly who Lydia Blackwood really is. And when I'm done, no one will ever question my sanity again."

"They'll question hers."

Outside the windows, Manhattan was waking up to a new day. Millions of people getting ready for work, making coffee, checking their phones for the morning news.

And finding stories about how the Van Alston heiress might be losing her mind.

Let them read. Let them wonder. Let them judge.

Because by the time I was finished, the only person anyone would be questioning was the woman who'd just declared war on the wrong fucking family.

The media battle was about to begin.

And I was ready to win it.