This Is What She Chose

The next day, Ivette went live from Jerick's hospital room, cameras locked on her.

I watched from my office, eyes like ice, barely glancing at Philip and Melanie hovering nearby.

On-screen, Ivette looked wrecked—red eyes, pale face, drained. Jerick was out cold on the bed, head wrapped up, blood still leaking through. Every so often, he let out a weak groan.

"First off," she said, voice shaking like it was staged, "I'm sorry to everyone who's worried. I was too weak. I couldn't protect the guy I love... or my family."

She kept going. "Noah Northam had me on a leash with power and money. I didn't even have the freedom to breathe."

Her gaze dropped to Jerick, eyes glassy. "Jerick's the only one who actually cares about me."

Then she went full dramatic. "Yeah, Noah's a powerhouse in business. My family owes him for that. But he ran my life—who I saw, where I went. Just 'cause he thought Jerick was a bad influence, he went all out to crush him. Spread lies. Tried to erase him. I'm done."

She sucked in a shaky breath, tears running. "Noah, I know you're watching. I know you're still threatening my family. Please—just let us go. I only ever wanted real love. But you punished me with my family's future and Jerick's blood. When did you turn into this?"

The livestream chat blew up instantly—wall-to-wall rage.

[Wait, she lived like THAT? Poor girl was basically locked in a golden cage!]

[Noah Northam is a manipulative freak. Dude deserves to rot.]

[Team Ivette all the way! Real love > everything. Ride or die!]

Then Ivette dropped the bomb: she was starting her own company.

"I'm cutting ties with the past. This new business is my way of building a future with Jerick. It won't be easy, but if he's with me, that's enough."

She played the camera like a pro, soaking up every ounce of pity. The internet lost its mind.

In seconds, Northam Corp was public enemy number one. Their socials got slammed non-stop.

Inside HQ, people were freaking out. Some already threw in their resignations.

Within an hour, the stock tanked—down ten percent and crashing fast.

Longtime partners saw the fire and bailed, ditching us before they got scorched.

I stared at Ivette's fake, tear-streaked face on screen and felt like throwing up.

That hate? It hit deep—like bone-deep kind of hate.

I wiped the cold sweat off my face and hit the phone. "Legal. Conference room. Five minutes."

I'd been playing the long game, pulling strings from the shadows. This was it.

Once the internet peaked, I'd rip Ivette's mask off and shut every door behind her.

Meanwhile, my office was drowning in Philip and Melanie's begging.

"Noah, we messed up. Just give us one more chance!"

"If not... we still have a younger daughter. She can marry you! I'll cut Ivette off right now!"

I said nothing. Their tears didn't deserve a response.

Philip looked wrecked. "Noah... there's really no way to fix this?"

I stared at the paused livestream—blood still smeared across Jerick's 'art'—and spoke ice-cold.

"There's no coming back from this. Three days. I want your family gone."