Chapter 6: The Press conference

Mabel's POV

There's no time for all of this. My team and I had to leave soon. An exhausted sigh left my lips with my hand rubbing my temples.

This is going to be a long day.

My feet carried me hastily to where she stood before she took another step closer.

“Aunt, what are you doing here?” I asked, fearing that she might cause a scene because it's something she's good at.

Instead of words, her puffy eyes glared at me scornfully, eying me from head to toe and that's when I knew she might really cause a scene and embarrass me sooner or later.

“Let's talk somewhere a bit private,” Linking my arm with hers, I led her away. She didn't resist, so I took her to a more secluded corner.

“Tell me it's not true.” She pleaded, breathing heavily as though she was about to have a convulsion. Her eyes, which were earlier filled with rage, were now sorrowful, causing a dull ache in my chest.

“Why did you do this to me? Have I committed a crime so unforgivable that the heavens chose to punish me this way?” Her lamentation turned into silent sobs. My hand raked through my hair, feeling a mixture of guilt and frustration. I was guilty that I had kept her in the dark and frustrated because I needed to leave now.

“I didn't mean to keep this away from you. I didn't even want this. Dad promised me he would tell you himself and I thought he did.” I explained rushing my words as an indication that I was in a hurry, even though I badly wanted to hide my impatience.

“You didn't want this, yet you went ahead with it?” Her voice held disbelief, her brow rising to complement her tone. Maybe because she's known me to always have strong, inflexible opinions and decisions. So this didn't convince her

“Dad made it his dying wish.” I watched her eyes grow wild as the words left my mouth.

She gasped. “That block-headed brother of mine! I will deal with him!”

As much as I wanted to take her threats lightly, I also knew that there was a hint of seriousness in them. She could really give my dad a tough time.

My throat released a short laugh, but it was hollow, humorless. “Please take it easy on him, he's your only brother.”

“He doesn't learn, does he?? After everything that happened because of them, he went ahead and got you married to that bastard!” She spat in between gritted teeth, her irritation unmistakable.

Okay, everything that happened? I was lost.

“Sorry? I don't follow” I already know Landon is a jerk. But her statement shows that we had a history with them. But I didn't even know about their existence until recently.

Just then my phone rang, interrupting our conversation. It was Dylan.

I hissed. Wrong timing.

“Look aunt, I have to go now. I have work to do. But I promise to stop by sometime.” Without warning, I pulled her into a tight hug, she sniveled on my shoulder as she hugged me back, tighter even, as though squeezing the life out of me. I became a little conscious, fearing that she might ruin my neatly ironed shirt.

“You’d better keep your promise.” She warned sternly but there was still a playful hint in her voice.

She finally let me go and I nodded.

“I will.”

We walked outside and my team was already waiting in the van. I flagged down a cab and got her settled, “Take care of yourself.”

After she left I went to the van and took my seat at the front, right next to the driver.

As the van set off, I quickly went through the interview questions to get a little familiar with them before reaching the venue.

In no time, we arrived at the venue. It looked like we were the last to arrive.

“Okay, this is it!” I breathed.

I pushed the doors but I happened to use a little more force than I had intended because the doors flew open with a loud bang, causing all heads to turn in our direction.

Seconds passed, and I was still frozen at the spot, not believing who I was there to interview. Those familiar cold eyes! Why did it have to be him?

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Landon's POV

Returning to the country, I had only one aim. My grandfather single-handedly started a real estate company, which has expanded massively over the years.

On my return, I intend to diversify and explore the world of tech and software, sensing the increased relevance of technology and the rapid advancement of tech in society.

Barely two months after my return, my grandfather made me sign a marriage certificate against my wish.

He was the one person I respected more than any other person. And he had never asked for anything from me, so there was no way out. I've never seen him so insistent on me doing something before, so I let him have his way.

Back to business.

There were numerous, huge promising investment projects I could embark on. All tech-related. Being a profit-driven businessman, I decided to leverage the opportunity and establish a software company of my own. Hence, this press conference.

A loud bang startled the small crowd in the conference room, temporarily halting the interview. Furrowing my brow, I slowly lifted my gaze, eager to see the person who had the nerve to barge in here like they owned the place.

My eyes landed on her tiny figure. Mabel, she and her accomplices, for some reason I wasn't surprised. She did that on purpose to ruin my mood.

My eyes lowered to my wristwatch, and it had already been 30 minutes since the interview started. My eyes narrowed with intensity, triggered by her audacity.

“Haha, sorry.” She laughed nervously, making her entrance into the hall, her head hanging low. Some of the others who came with her set up their camera while she took her seat in front, alongside the other press members.

I was right. She doesn't have a single sense of responsibility.

How could someone be so clumsy? My mind was busy with possible ways to teach her a lesson. To remind her of the power imbalance between us. To register in her mind that we're not equals and will never be.

A brilliant idea struck my mind, an evil smile finding its way to my lips. AJ watched me intently as though trying to understand my thought process, but I didn't spare him a glance.

“President Ferguson, are you focusing on startups, established companies, or developing your own tech firm?” an interviewer's voice cut through my thoughts like a sharp razor. For a moment there, my mind had slipped away from the interview, exploring ways to punish Mabel.

I adjusted my countenance, ready to resume what I had ongoing before it was rudely interrupted by Mabel.

“I don’t do small. If I wanted to play around with startups, I would have done it years ago. I’m here to dominate, not experiment.” I replied bluntly, my voice stern, yet reserved.

Another question was thrown almost immediately.

“Which sectors of technology interest you the most—AI, cybersecurity, fintech, or something else?”

“All of them. Why limit myself? AI, fintech, blockchain—you name it. If it prints money, I’m interested.” I responded, a proud smile playing on my lips. My eyes caught a few of the female reporters blushing!

I shook my head in pity. Such shameless beings!

“What unique contributions do you hope to make in the tech industry?” Mabel threw her first question, her voice held a smooth blend of professionalism and criticism.

My gaze locked with hers, holding back a growl, “I don’t contribute. I take over. That’s what I do.” She scrunched her face in distaste, condemning my response without even uttering a word.

At that moment I wished I could strangle her. Why did it seem like she was insufferable? She gets under my skin without even making an effort as though she was born for it.

“How much are you willing to invest in this new venture?” a female reporter asked, just the kind of questions I liked to answer.

My gaze diverted to her, “Enough to make everyone else in the industry very, very nervous.” A cunning smile crept onto my lips as I answered.

“How will you address concerns about data privacy and security in your tech ventures?” The she-devil continued her interrogation, her tone sharper this time, as if she had already judged me guilty.

I could've thrown her out after this question. I think I should have. I regretted not doing it.

“People complain about privacy, but they give away their entire lives online for free. I’m just smart enough to profit from it.” I shot back my tone colder than usual as my patience was starting to flop from going back and forth with her.

“So, you’re saying you have no regard for ethical business practices? That you exploit ignorance for profit?” She pressed, leaning forward as if trying to catch me in a trap.

Did she want to play? Alright, two can play this game.

“I’m saying people love convenience more than they love privacy. And companies—big and small—have been monetizing that for decades. I’m just not pretending to be a saint while doing it.”

There was murmuring in the press room.

But she didn't back down.

“That sounds dangerously close to admitting that you have no moral boundaries in business.” There was an unmistakable trace of accusation in her tone, causing another round of murmuring to erupt. My countenance darkened instantly.

This was more than just an ‘interview’. She was trying to humiliate me. I'll have to put her in her place.

“You call it ‘dangerous.’ I call it reality. Or do you want to pretend that your network, your employer, isn’t collecting and selling data? Should I pull up some reports?” I pointed an accusing finger at her, heat rising to my face.

The reporters exchanged glances among themselves as though I had touched a sensitive topic. She swallowed, temporarily speechless.

This didn't feel like an interview anymore but a debate between this woman and me.

“That’s different. We—”

I cut her off. “No, it’s not. The difference is, I don’t lie about it.

You sit there, self-righteous, pretending you’re on the moral high ground when the very company paying your salary thrives on ad revenue from user data.

Maybe instead of grilling me, you should be asking your bosses why they do the same thing!” I said all in one breath, my eyes not leaving hers.

Her lips parted as if to speak, to argue, but no words came out, the unmistakable feeling of defeat lurking around her. For a moment there was absolute silence as the tension in the room reached its peak.

I leaned back in my chair, relaxed, victorious. What's worse than humiliation on live television?

“Next question. Or should I wait for security to escort you out?”