Chapter 7 - The Downfall of Sophia
Gasps exploded across the room. The cameras from the press pit began flashing violently, capturing Sophia’s horrified expression as the narrative flipped in an instant.
""No! That’s a forgery!"" Sophia shrieked, lunging forward, but two private security guards immediately blocked her path. ""Vincent, you're protecting her! She abandoned you! She doesn't love you!""
""I am protecting the woman who owns my entire soul,"" Vincent replied, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings for every socialite, journalist, and investor to hear. ""And while we are discussing stolen property, Monsieur Blanc, perhaps you would like to ask Miss Reynolds how she acquired the blueprint files she submitted to the patent office.""
Vincent pulled a sleek black leather folder from beneath his arm—documents his assistant had just sprinted into the building to deliver.
""These are bank transfers from Sophia Reynolds’ personal account to my former head of domestic security,"" Vincent announced, handing the papers to the board of directors. ""Along with sworn affidavits confirming that Miss Reynolds paid to have my private study broken into three years ago to steal my wife’s personal diaries, design sketches, and jewelry inventory.""
The room erupted into absolute chaos. Reporters were shouting questions, typing furiously on their phones, and broadcasting the live feed to every business wire in the country.
""You're ruined, Sophia,"" Vincent said quietly, stepping closer to her as she shrank against the security barrier. ""By tomorrow morning, the federal prosecutor will receive the unredacted files regarding your family's involvement in Marcus’s fraud scheme. Your father’s company will be liquidated by noon. And if you ever come within a hundred yards of my wife or my son again, you will spend the rest of your youth behind federal prison bars.""
Sophia collapsed onto her knees, sobbing hysterically as security escorted her through the service exit to avoid the blinding flashes of the paparazzi outside.
The gallery erupted into applause. Henri Blanc bowed deeply toward me, offering a formal apology on behalf of the committee before announcing that The Phoenix Awakening had unanimously won the Grand Prix International d'Horlogerie et de Bijouterie.
Julian Vance stepped up beside me, clapping his hands and beaming with pride. ""I told you, Claire. Pure talent always conquers malice.""
I accepted the heavy crystal trophy, the applause washing over me like a wave. But as my eyes met Vincent’s across the circle of cheering admirers, there was no victory in his expression.
May you like
There was only a quiet, desperate plea.
He offered a sad, reverent nod, stepped back into the shadows of the crowd, and turned toward the exit, preparing to walk out of my life forever if that was what I desired.
