Hardly had the assistant stepped out when Vincent's phone rang. Dorothy's voice came through crisp and authoritative. "Come home immediately. I need to speak with you."
Fatigue throbbed behind his eyes as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Without delay, he took his coat, left the office, and drove straight back home.
......
The moment he arrived, Dorothy hurled a stack of newspapers against his chest and launched into him. "Look at the chaos you've caused. Do you have any idea what people are saying about you?"
Anger flared in her eyes as she continued, "Heartless. Unfaithful. Abandoning your wife while you parade around with another woman. Is this truly the man I raised?"
Scanning the headlines, Vincent recognized the names instantly. Sensational tabloids and gossip sheets, the kind that fed on exaggeration and scandal. Keeping his tone steady, he replied, "Grandma, please calm down. Getting upset will only harm your health. None of this is proven. They're chasing attention, so they're twisting the story. I already have people dealing with it."
Dorothy's expression softened only slightly, though her sternness remained. "Rumor or not, they still needed something to work with. Give them a single photograph, and they'll invent an entire story. Where there's even a hint of smoke, people assume a fire."
Keeping his voice even, Vincent said, "Margot was swarmed by overzealous fans when she returned. She reached out to me for assistance, and I helped her. That's all there was. Nothing more."
Suspicion creased Dorothy's brow. "Does she not have relatives or friends she could rely on?" she asked. "Why did she turn to you instead? I don't believe she's as harmless as she pretends to be."
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she continued, "When you were lying unconscious, the doctors warned you might never recover. Margot didn't hesitate to leave the country, claiming she was pursuing her dream. Now you're well again, and our family business is thriving, and suddenly she rushes back. Her motives are painfully clear. I would never accept a woman like that into this family."
A muscle jumped in Vincent's jaw. "I understand the situation," he said firmly.
"Good." After letting out a breath, Dorothy's eyes sharpened as her thoughts shifted. "Where is Cora? Why didn't she come back with you?"
Without waiting for his response, concern softened her tone. "After seeing all this, she must be hurt. When you return, you need to explain everything to her properly."
At the sound of Corinna's name, Vincent's expression turned dark, his jaw locking tight. "She's gone."
Disbelief flashed across Dorothy's face. "What did you just say?"
Trying to steady her, Vincent spoke gently. "Grandma, please don't get upset." He then recounted everything that had happened, from beginning to end.
Anger and regret tangled across Dorothy's face, directed both at him and at herself for realizing it too late. "Cora has been your wife for three years. While you lay in a coma, she was the one bathing you, rubbing life back into your muscles, helping with rehabilitation again and again. No one in that house cared for you the way she did."
Rising emotion sharpened her words until they cut without mercy. She continued, "She stayed loyal. She stayed devoted. She endured every slight in silence. Your mother treated her like she was worthless, and she never once came to you to complain. When I injured my ankle and was hospitalized, she refused to leave my side, day and night. When my headaches worsened, she taught herself proper massage techniques and treated me personally, better than any specialist I paid. She may not have parents left, but she is a good woman. A good wife. How could you possibly treat her this way?"
A memory surfaced in Vincent's mind, unbidden. At the start of their marriage, Corinna had been fragile and uncertain, stripped of her memories and wary of everyone like a startled animal.
One exception had existed.
Even while unconscious, he had drifted in and out of awareness. During those moments, he could hear her voice nearby, sitting close, speaking in hushed tones as though the rest of the world had vanished and only the two of them remained.
"Vincent, everyone says you used to be amazing before this happened. You shouldn't be trapped like this. You have to recover. Please."
Something about her gentle, almost sugary tone soothed him far more than it had any right to.
Coldness entered Dorothy's voice. "Cora is the only granddaughter-in-law I will ever acknowledge. As for anyone else, don't even let the thought cross your mind." Her gaze locked onto him without mercy. "You are bringing her back."
Vincent nodded and said, "I will."
......
Elsewhere within the Walsh estate, urgency cut through the air as Liam moved to Corinna's side, his expression calm but deadly. "Cora, you're getting dragged online."
Without a word, Corinna unlocked her phone. Every platform was flooded with the story, picking apart her, Vincent, Liam, and Margot with cruel enthusiasm.
The comment sections were vile. Mockery poured over her name, while strangers praised Vincent and Margot, rewriting them into a romantic legend of childhood sweethearts. In their narrative, Corinna, the lawful wife, had been recast as a greedy intruder chasing money and status, the villain standing in the way of a so-called destined love.
Corinna was just about to erase everything herself when the page refreshed.
What greeted her was emptiness. The posts were gone, and so were the accounts that had fueled them, erased one by one as if they had never existed.
That had to be Liam's doing, she figured.
Still, removal did not mean resolution.
Her tone was flat and determined. "This isn't over. Whoever did this is going to pay."
From the sofa, she picked up a tablet, tapped the screen twice, and logged into an account marked by a black avatar.
The handle displayed a single name—King.
Code streamed across the screen as her fingers moved with practiced speed.
Tracing the trail took only moments. The source led straight to Margot.
After gathering everything—money transfers, private messages, direct instructions—Corinna organized the evidence and released it online, exposing how Margot had paid trolls to drag her name through the mud.
She did not stop there. She retrieved the call log from the day of the accident, the one where she had reached out to Vincent for help and heard, unmistakably, what he was doing with Margot on the other end, and she released that as well. The recording went up beneath headlines that were blunt and merciless.
"Vincent Spencer Exposed for Infidelity—Wife Calls After Car Crash and Hears Him in Bed with Another Woman."
"Paid Smear Campaign Revealed as Mistress Tries to Replace the Wife—Can It Get Any More Disgusting?"
Through channels she understood better than anyone, Corinna forced the posts straight into the heart of the algorithm until it flooded timelines everywhere.
This time, the backlash was uncontrollable. Traffic surged so violently that the platform lagged and stuttered, teetering on the edge of collapse.
