Chapter 6 - The Counter-Strike
The night of the Founders' Gala arrived with a cold, biting wind, but the atmosphere inside the grand ballroom was stiflingly warm. Preston and Esther made their entrance not as victims, but as a united, immovable force. Esther, dressed in a gown of midnight blue, walked with a poise that silenced the room; the rumors of her "collapse" died the moment she stepped into the light.
Eleanor and Gabriela were positioned near the dais, their faces masked in practiced, chilling smiles. They had spent the evening whispering to high-profile guests, weaving a narrative of Esther’s instability. As Eleanor stepped up to the microphone to begin her speech—the centerpiece of which was to be the announcement of Esther’s "permanent leave of absence"—Preston stepped in.
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He didn't make a scene. He simply walked to the sound booth, handed a pre-prepared drive to the technician, and moments later, the massive overhead screens intended for the family’s legacy presentation flickered to life. Instead of family photos, the screen displayed a clean, damning ledger of the offshore accounts and the falsified medical records they had used to justify their theft.
The room erupted in whispers. Preston stepped to the microphone, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "My family has long claimed to value our legacy," he said, his eyes locking with his mother’s. "But true legacy is built on integrity. Tonight, we clear the rot from the foundation." He signaled for his legal team, who began distributing copies of the evidence to the media and board members present. The look on Eleanor’s face—a mixture of pure, unadulterated shock and white-hot rage—was the final confirmation that their grip was broken.
