Fiona, standing off to the side, frowned as Anna calmly dismantled every accusation thrown at her.
"Why is she denying everything?" Fiona hissed under her breath.
Without hesitation, she pulled out her phone and typed quickly.
She’s dodging the questions. Don’t let her leave. Push harder.
A second later, her reporter friend’s phone buzzed. She glanced down, then lifted her gaze—eting Fiona’s eyes. A subtle nod passed between them.
Right on cue, the reporter stepped forward again.
"We may not have proof," she said loudly, "but isn’t it true that your mother offended soone badly enough for them to co after her?"
Anna recognized the tactic instantly.
Push. Corner. Provoke.
They wanted her emotional. Flustered. Slipping.
Kevin imdiately moved closer, placing himself slightly in front of Anna. "Enough," he snapped. "You cannot harass our actor like this."
"Then why not tell them the truth?"
The new voice sliced through the murmurs, sharp and calculated.
Every head turned.
Fiona had stepped out of the shadows.
She walked forward with practiced confidence, heels clicking against the ground, stopping right beside Anna as if she belonged there. Her lips curved into a calm, poisonous smile, her eyes flickering with triumph.
"I think everyone deserves honesty," Fiona said smoothly. "If your mother didn’t offend anyone, then say it plainly."
Her gaze locked with Anna’s—taunting, daring.
I won’t let you escape, Fiona thought viciously. You think you can outsmart ? I’ll show you how humiliation feels.
Before Anna could respond, another reporter lunged forward, emboldened.
"There are also rumors that your father kept you out of the public eye because he was embarrassed by you," the reporter said bluntly. "That if not for this scandal, he wouldn’t have acknowledged you as his daughter. Does that an your family is already far more complicated than it appears?"
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Betty stiffened. Kevin’s jaw tightened.
Fiona’s smile widened—subtle, satisfied.
"My mother wouldn’t lie," Fiona added sweetly, turning to the caras. "She witnessed everything herself. And I’m certain she gains nothing from fabricating such a serious accusation. Why would she lie about sothing like that?"
She lifted her chin, playing the devoted daughter perfectly.
"After all," she continued gently, "truth always cos out... doesn’t it?"
Microphones surged forward again—this ti toward Anna.
The air grew thick. Hostile. Heavy. This was no longer about facts. It was about breaking Anna in front of the world.
Fiona stepped back half a pace, giving the reporters space, letting them do exactly what she wanted.
Corner Anna. Expose her. And strip her dignity away—one question at a ti.
Anna on the other hand inhaled slowly.
The noise around her, the flashes, the overlapping questions, the sharp edge in Fiona’s voice blurred into a distant hum. For a split second, fear tried to crawl up her spine.
Then she straightened. And sothing in her expression changed.
She turned, not to the reporters but to Fiona.
The sudden shift caught everyone off guard.
"Since you’re so eager for the truth," Anna said calmly, "let’s start there."
Fiona’s confident smile twitched.
"You speak as if you know everything," Anna continued, her voice steady and clear enough for every microphone to catch. "So allow to ask you sothing publicly."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"You claim your mother witnessed everything," Anna said, tilting her head slightly. "Then tell —why didn’t she report it imdiately? Why did the police never recieved her statent? And why did her version change all of a sudden?"
The reporters froze.
Fiona’s eyes widened, just for a fraction of a second.
’What is she saying. Didn’t my mother already gave the statent’
That day after Fredrick returned from the baord eting, he declared he would use this statent of her mother to trap the Bennett’s. But seeing Anna refuting every words made her question her plan.
However, Anna didn’t stop.
"You’re accusing my mother of lying," she went on, calm but deadly. "Yet you’re presenting no evidence. No report. No confirmation. Just words."
She turned to the caras now.
"Isn’t that interesting? One unverified witness magically becos the loudest voice, while the victim herself is questioned, blad, and publicly harassed."
Kevin watched in stunned silence. Betty felt goosebumps run down her arms.
Fiona tried to recover. "Are you implying my mother—"
"I’m implying nothing," Anna cut in sharply. "I’m asking for facts. Sothing you keep demanding from but refuse to provide yourself."
The crowd shifted. Caras adjusted—no longer trained solely on Anna.
They were turning toward Fiona.
"You ntioned rumors about my father being ashad of ," Anna added coolly. "Let be clear—my family dynamics are not public property. And using them to derail a criminal investigation is not journalism."
One reporter hesitated. "Miss Fiona... can you respond to the inconsistencies?"
Fiona opened her mouth and nothing ca out.
Anna took one final step forward, her voice unwavering.
"My mother was attacked. She survived. She cooperated with the police. Until an official statent proves otherwise, any accusation against her is defamation."
Silence fell like a hamr. Anna’s gaze locked with Fiona’s one last ti.
"If anyone is manufacturing narratives here," she said softly, "it isn’t us."
The words landed. Hard.
Fiona felt it, the attention slipping from her control.
For the first ti since the chaos began, she wasn’t the conductor of the storm.
She was standing in it. And every cara was watching.
"I–I am not—" Fiona’s voice faltered as every eye in the crowd swiveled toward her.
For the first ti, she felt it, the control slipping. The air no longer bending to her will.
She opened her mouth to speak again—
Bzzzz.
A sharp vibration cut through the silence. Not one phone. All of them.
Reporters, caran, every device buzzed at the exact sa mont, like a synchronized warning.
Fiona’s blood ran cold.
Her own phone vibrated violently in her hand.
FREDRICK’s na flashed across the screen.
"Dad..." she whispered under her breath, panic blooming in her chest.
Before she could respond, the crowd erupted—but not with questions. With fear.
Reporters backed away in a sudden rush, faces draining of color as they stared at their screens.
"What—why are you all leaving?" Fiona stamred, desperation creeping into her voice. "H-Hey! Where are you going?!"
No one answered her.
They packed up with frantic haste, caras lowered, microphones dropped. Vans started up. Doors slamd. Within seconds, the chaos vanished like it had never existed.
"What... just happened?" Betty whispered.
Only Fiona remained standing there with her assistant, frozen in shock.
Her phone vibrated again.And again.
Fredrick’s na filled the screen like a verdict.
Hands trembling, Fiona finally answered.
"Y–Yes, Dad?" she had just opened her mouth to speak but the explosion from the other end made her flinch.
"You useless girl," Fredrick roared. "What have you done?!"
"D-Dad, I don’t understand—"
"You destroyed everything, Fiona!" His voice was shaking now, not just with anger, but with panic.
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