Chapter 227: The Villainess Wants The Devil Back

?Marcus looked up, his eyes widening with immediate alarm as he hurried toward her.

?"Ana," Marcus murmured, his voice tense, checking the empty hallway behind her before stepping into her path. "Thank god you’re here. We’ve been trying to reach your line."

?Ana frowned, her guard snapping instantly back into place. "What happened? Did the morning campaign rollout get pulled?"

?"No, it’s not the campaign," Marcus said grimly, gesturing with a trembling hand toward the break room. "It’s Vivian Stark. Her PR firm just took over every network feed in the tri-state area. She called an unscheduled, live press conference from the Plaza hotel—she’s going on the air right now."

?A cold spike of dread shot straight through Ana’s chest, freezing the lingering warmth in her veins.

?Her legs moved on pure instinct, carrying her into the glass enclosure where the rest of the team stood in stunned, frozen silence.

?Every eye was fixed on the massive wall-mounted television screen.

?The lower third flashed in stark, urgent white text against a midnight-blue banner:

?"LIVE: VIVIAN STARK ADDRESSES MANHATTAN MEDIA FOLLOWING UNCONDITIONAL EXONERATION"

?Behind a polished mahogany podium flanked by a dozen microphones and blinding camera strobes, Vivian Stark stood tall. She wore an immaculate, ice-blue tailored suit, her dark hair swept back in severe, regal elegance. Not a single trace of shame or fear touched her porcelain features.

?Then, slowly, deliberately, Vivian tilted her chin upward.

?She didn’t glance at the flashing shutters or the shouting journalists clamoring at her feet. Her dark, obsidian eyes locked dead-center onto the broadcast lens—staring with chilling, predatory precision right down the barrel of the camera.

?Straight at Ana.

?Vivian’s crimson lips parted, the ghost of a venomous, triumphant smile touching the corners of her mouth as she leaned in toward the microphones.

?Ana’s breath hitched in her throat, her knuckles whitening as the world around her went dead, terrifyingly silent.

The media room at the Plaza was deafening with shouting reporters and blinding camera strobes, but through the television speakers in the break room, Vivian Stark’s voice was as smooth and calm as liquid glass.

?She adjusted the cluster of microphones before her, resting both hands lightly on the polished mahogany podium.

?"Ms. Stark!" a lead business correspondent shouted over the din, leaning aggressively into the press pen. "Federal filings previously alleged you orchestrated the sabotage of Sterling Global’s supply lines and attempted to bankrupt their maritime assets. How do you explain the allegations of corporate espionage against the Sterling dynasty?"

?Vivian didn’t flinch. She offered the press corps a soft, melancholic smile, tilting her head with an air of delicate, unshakeable grace.

?"I have spent my entire life alongside the Sterling family," Vivian began, her tone gentle, carrying an undercurrent of tragic vulnerability that instantly softened the room. "Damian Sterling built that empire with his own blood and intellect. I have loved Damian for as long as I can remember. Why would I ever seek to exploit his hard-earned dynasty? I never wanted to destroy what he created. I simply wanted to become a part of it."

?Inside the break room, a stunned murmur rippled through the marketing team. Marcus shot a horrified, sideways glance at Ana, whose fingers had gone rigid around her tablet.

?Vivian lowered her gaze for a single, practiced second before looking back up into the blinding lights.

?"The truth is far darker than a boardroom rivalry," Vivian continued, her voice trembling just enough to sell the performance of a lifetime. "The real culprit behind the harbor tragedy and the market manipulation is already behind bars. For months, I was targeted by a dangerous stalker—a rogue actor with immense financial resources who used my name, forged my authorizations, and operated in the shadows. He attacked my employees. He murdered federal agents on the docks. Anyone who stood close to me was methodically destroyed by him."

?She paused, letting the weight of her fabrication hang in the suffocating silence of the Plaza ballroom.

?"I didn’t flee the authorities," Vivian said softly, looking straight into the lens. "I was forced into hiding to stay alive. And with my father’s tireless help, we tracked this monster down and handed the incontrovertible proof to the federal prosecutor. The truth prevailed. Now, I am finally free... and back in my rightful place."

?The journalists erupted again, hands waving frantically in the air.

?"Ms. Stark! A follow-up!" a senior Bloomberg anchor called out, cutting through the clamor. "Damian Sterling publicly stripped your family of your executive roles and forced your father off the Sterling Global board of trustees. Given the bad blood, will you ever return to work at Sterling Global?"

?The entire marketing floor held its breath.

?On the screen, Vivian didn’t look offended. A slow, breathtaking smile curved her crimson lips—serene, alluring, and dripping with poisonous certainty.

?Her dark eyes locked dead-center onto the broadcast camera, staring straight through the glass, straight into the heart of the tower.

?"Only if Damian brings me back," Vivian purred.

?The press room descended into utter pandemonium.

?In the break room, the silence was deafening. The designers and managers stood frozen, their eyes darting nervously toward Ana, terrified of what she might do.

?Ana’s hazel eyes burned with absolute, cold fury. The brazen lie, the flawless victimhood, the shameless, public claim on Damian—it was an open declaration of war, played out on live television for millions of viewers across the globe.

?Behind her, the heavy glass doors of the break room swung open with a violent snap.

Damian took two slow, measured steps into the break room.

?He didn’t spare a single glance at the television screen where Vivian’s face still held the world’s attention. He didn’t even look at the frantic ticker tape rolling across the bottom of the broadcast.

?Instead, his icy, dark gaze swept across the trembling marketing staff.

?"Is your morning work completed?" Damian rumbled, his deep baritone cutting through the speakers like a razor. "Or does Sterling Global pay full executive salaries for my employees to watch television during work hours?"

?The temperature plummeted. Marcus and the brand managers scrambled, practically tripping over themselves as they grabbed their tablets and scattered out the glass doors, the break room emptying out within five frantic seconds.

?Damian’s eyes shifted, landing on Clara, who was standing frozen near the counter with pale lips.

?"Clara," Damian addressed her, his voice flat and authoritative. "You are running this department’s campaign rollout. You should have control over your team."

?Clara swallowed the lump in her throat, dipping her chin in a stiff, respectful nod. "Understood, Mr. Sterling."

?She stepped around the counter, pausing briefly beside Ana to give her shoulder a subtle, grounding pat—a silent, fierce anchor of support—before quietly slipping out into the hall.

?The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence, the TV still muttering low background noise until Damian reached over the counter and hit the power switch, killing the feed into pitch-black glass.

?Ana didn’t look at him. Her jaw remained clenched, her pulse thumping violently in her ears as she turned on her heel to walk out the door, desperate for air.

?She tried to push past him, but Damian’s large hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist and bringing her to an abrupt halt.

?Ana stiffened, her hazel eyes blazing as she glared at his grip. "Let go, Damian."

?Damian didn’t release her. He stepped into her space, his towering silhouette casting a long shadow over her, his obsidian gaze dark, intense, and completely unyielding.

?"Do not look weak in front of everyone, Anastasia," Damian murmured, his voice low, gravelly, and laced with warning. "Vivian wants the spectacle. She wants you rattled, and she wants this entire building watching you crack. Any reaction you give her will hand her the victory."

?Ana met his stare head-on, refusing to let a single tear or ounce of trembling show. With a sharp, deliberate pull, she wrenched her wrist from his grasp and smoothed the sleeve of her blouse.

?"I’ll just focus on my work right now," Ana said, her voice dropping into a clean, icy cadence that masked every fracture inside her chest. "So that won’t be a problem."

?Without waiting for his reply, she turned her back on him and walked out into the corridor with her head held high.