Chapter 4 - The Press Conference
On the television screen, Weston looked pitiful and wronged. He wore his arm in a sling that had not been there an hour prior, leaning heavily against aluminum crutches while Eleanor dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Microphones from three major financial outlets were shoved in his face.
""I only wanted to protect the integrity of Vance Global and our unborn child,"" Weston told the cameras, his voice cracking with rehearsed emotion. ""My fiancee, Eva Vance, has been struggling under the immense pressure of this pregnancy. Today, when I attempted to step in and offer operational relief, she became physically combative. I was assaulted in our home.""
Eleanor leaned toward the microphones, her voice vibrating with performative heartbreak. ""We are simply praying that Eva gets the psychiatric help she desperately needs before bringing a child into this world. For the sake of the shareholders and the baby, my son is filing for an emergency conservatorship.""
Diane cursed under her breath, reaching for the remote. ""I'll issue a press release denying the claims immediately. We can get a temporary restraining order drafted before dusk.""
""No,"" Eva said, her voice terrifyingly calm. ""A written denial looks defensive. A statement makes it seem like a private domestic dispute between equals. He wants a spectacle; I will give him a public execution.""
""Eva, your blood pressure—""
""My blood pressure is fine, Diane,"" Eva countered, standing up. ""Call the ballroom at the St. Regis. Confirm that the Vance Foundation Gala proceeds exactly as scheduled at seven tonight. Weston thinks he locked me out of my own industry. He forgot whose name is on the marquee.""
""He will show up,"" Diane warned. ""He still holds an honorary co-chair invitation.""
""I am counting on it,"" Eva said, adjusting her pearl earrings in the mirror. ""Tell Vance to review the lobby security footage from this morning. I want high-definition copies of the assault Eleanor attempted on me, and the angle where Weston lunged into my personal space before I defended myself. Prepare the master display screens in the grand ballroom.""
Two hours later, Eva arrived at the St. Regis. The red carpet was swarming with paparazzi and corporate elites. When her car door opened, the flashing lights were blinding. Whispers cut through the air: Is that her? Did she really attack him? Look at her belly, she looks ready to drop.
Eva stepped onto the carpet with her head held high, looking immaculate in an off-the-shoulder emerald gown that draped gracefully over her eight-month bump. She paused for no one, gliding through the heavy brass doors like a monarch inspecting her court.
Inside the ballroom, Eleanor was already holding court near the ice sculpture, sipping champagne and greeting high-profile donors with mournful sighs.
When Eleanor spotted Eva walking toward her, the glass slipped slightly in her hand. ""What are you doing here?"" Eleanor hissed under her breath. ""Security was supposed to bar you.""
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""Bar me from my own charity?"" Eva smiled, cold as winter ice. ""You seem confused about ownership, Eleanor. But don't worry. The presentation is about to begin.""
Right on cue, the hall lights dimmed, and the massive primary screen behind the podium flickered to life.
