CHAPTER 6
The next 48 hours were a whirlwind. The story about me got bigger and bigger. It was on every gossip site, every local news channel, even a few national morning shows. People were furious. They called me every name in the book. They started petitions to boycott Carter Industries. They demanded I step down as CEO.
I let it all happen. I stayed quiet. I let the Mitchells dig their hole deeper and deeper.
They gave interviews to tabloids, crying on camera, talking about how “traumatized” Vanessa was. Patricia told a reporter that I had a “history of mental instability” and that I had been abusive to Ethan when he was a child. George said I was a “ruthless businesswoman” who would “stop at nothing to get what I want.”
Ethan was furious. He wanted to say something, wanted to defend me, but I made him stay quiet.
“Just a little longer,” I told him. “Let them say their worst. Then we hit back.”
Finally, on the third day, we were ready. We released the full video. All 12 minutes of it. We posted it on the company website, on all our social media channels, and sent it to every major news outlet.
The effect was immediate.
Within an hour, the video had been viewed ten million times.
Within two hours, it was the number one trending topic on every social media platform.
The public’s anger flipped instantly.
People were horrified by Vanessa’s cruelty. They were disgusted by her parents’ behavior. They were ashamed of how quickly they had judged me.
The comments that had once called me a bully now called Vanessa a monster. The petitions to boycott Carter Industries turned into petitions to boycott the Mitchell Group. News outlets that had run hit pieces on me now ran apologies, then ran new stories exposing the Mitchells’ lies.
Sarah called me, laughing.
“It’s a bloodbath. Their stock is plummeting. Their business partners are dropping them left and right. And just like we thought, they filed their lawsuit this morning, right before we released the video. Now we can countersue for defamation, fraud, conspiracy—you name it. We’re going to destroy them.”
I felt a wave of relief. It was over. Or so I thought.
That afternoon, Ethan showed up at my house, his face pale, his hands shaking. He held his phone out to me.
“Mom. You need to see this.”
It was a video. Vanessa was sitting in her bedroom, crying into the camera.
“Ethan, I know you hate me right now. I know I messed up. But I need you to know the truth. I’m pregnant. It’s yours. I found out yesterday. I didn’t want to tell you this way, but I had to. You can hate me all you want, but this baby is innocent. It needs its father.”
I stared at the screen, my stomach dropping.
This was a nightmare.
Ethan sank down onto the couch, his head in his hands.
“What do I do? If it’s mine… I can’t just walk away. I can’t leave my kid with her.”
I sat down next to him, putting my arm around his shoulders.
“We don’t know if it’s yours yet, baby. She could be lying. She could be pregnant with someone else’s baby and trying to pass it off as yours. She’s already proven she’ll do anything to get money from us.”
He looked up at me, his eyes desperate.
“But what if it is mine? What do I do then?”
I took a deep breath.
“Then we handle it. We get a paternity test as soon as possible. If it’s yours, we fight for custody. We make sure that baby is raised right, away from her and her parents. We don’t let her use that child to hurt you or to get our money. Okay?”
He nodded, swallowing hard.
“Okay.”
But I knew this was going to get a lot worse before it got better. Vanessa had just played her trump card. And she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
That night, she posted the pregnancy video online. It went viral almost as fast as our video had. Suddenly, the narrative shifted again. Some people still hated her, but others started to feel sorry for her. They said that no matter what she did, she was still a mother-to-be. They said Ethan needed to “man up” and take responsibility. They said I was a monster for trying to keep a father away from his child.
The Mitchells gave another interview, this time playing up the pregnancy. Patricia cried on camera, saying Vanessa was “terrified” and “all alone.” George said Ethan was “refusing to take responsibility for his actions.” They upped their lawsuit demand to a hundred million dollars, saying it was for the baby’s future.
I was furious. But I also knew we couldn’t just call her a liar. We needed proof.
I called Sarah the next morning.
“We need a paternity test. As soon as possible. Can we force her to take one?”
“Not until the baby is born,” Sarah said. “But we can file a petition with the court to establish paternity once the child is here. In the meantime, we can demand she provide medical records proving she’s actually pregnant. If she’s lying, that’ll expose her right away.”
“Good,” I said. “Do it. And dig into her personal life. Find out if she was seeing anyone else while she was with Ethan. Any ex-boyfriends, any affairs. Anything that could prove the baby isn’t his.”
Sarah agreed.
“Already on it. My private investigators are looking into everything. We’ll find the truth.”
I hung up the phone, staring out the window.
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Vanessa thought she had won. She thought a baby would tie her to us forever.
She had no idea who she was messing with.
