Chapter 18 Media Frenzy
Victors Pov
The low growl of the engine came to a stop as Victor’s black Jeep halted in front of the towering glass building of his company.
The tension inside the vehicle matched the dark skies overhead, heavy with the promise of a storm. Without missing a beat, his guard leaped out of the front seat and hurried around, opening the door for him.
Victor stepped out, his polished black boots hitting the pavement with authority. His sharp black suit, tailored to perfection, clung to his muscular frame, exuding power.
The collar of his crisp white shirt peeked from beneath the jacket, and the glint of his
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silver cufflinks caught the faint morning light. His hair was slicked back, dark and neatly groomed, with his chiseled jaw clenched in irritation.
“Move faster, damn it!” he snapped at the guard as he slammed the car door. The edge in his voice cut through the air like a knife. His guard flinched but said nothing, falling in line behind him as Victor strode toward the building.
Each step was calculated, filled with the kind of arrogance that demanded respect without needing to ask for it.
Victor’s fists were balled at his sides, veins pulsing under the skin, his body radiating tension.
He was not in the mood for pleasantries. Today was supposed to be about business
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-his business. But now, thanks to recent events, everything is spinning out of control.
Just as he neared the company entrance, the noise hit him like a wave.
“Mr. Victor! Over here!”
“Are you and Rachael back together?”
“Is the boy in the picture your son, Mr. Victor?”
Victor’s stride faltered for a brief second as he heard the barrage of questions, but he quickly regained his composure. His guard, sensing the change, stepped forward, attempting to create a barrier between Victor and the swarming media.
“Get them out of my way, Victor growled under his breath, his voice laced with barely
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there a picture of you too with a little boy” a woman from the crowd shouted, thrusting her microphone toward him.
“Is the boy yours, Victor? Are you a family again? What would happen to evelyn and your child with her. ?”
Victor’s jaw clenched. Every muscle in his body screamed to lash out, to tell these vultures to back off. But no, he couldn’t. Not here. Not now. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the reporters.
“No comment,” he spat through gritted teeth. His words were icy, warning them to back off. But the media, relentless as ever, continued their assault.
Victor’s guard stepped forward, pushing back the crowd more forcefully now. “Back off!” he barked, shielding Victor from the
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concealed fury.
Flashes of cameras went off like fireworks as reporters pressed forward, their microphones extended toward him. In their hands were printed photos, ones that made his blood boil–photos of him with Rachael where she was telling him not to touch her
son.
His chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, something other than anger flickered across his face. But he shoved it down, masking it with cold indifference.
He hated being in the spotlight for the wrong reasons, and this–this was a mess he needed to control before it spun further out of his grasp.
“Are you two getting back together? I thought you divorce her years ago. Why is
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chaos.
With a final glare at the cameras, Victor turned and resumed his walk toward the building, the weight of the media’s questions following him. Each step felt heavier as the whispers of the crowd lingered in his mind.
He reached the entrance of the company, the glass doors sliding open smoothly as if the world within was oblivious to the storm outside. Inside, it was quiet, but Victor’s mind was anything but. His thoughts circled back to the pictures, to Rachael, to the boy.
Jamal.
Was the kid his? That question gnawed at him, refusing to leave him in peace. He had to know. He knew she was pregnant but at the same time the baby might have died? why? because of what happened in the
she
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hospital.
But with the way Racheal was talking the other time,it seemed he was the father. He had to take control of the situation–just like he always did.
Without breaking stride, Victor barked orders‘ to his assistant, who was already waiting for him at the elevator. “Find out everything the media knows. And get me answers. Today”
His voice was sharp, final. There was no room for failure.
As the elevator doors closed, cutting him off from the chaos outside, Victor’s mind raced. He would get to the bottom of this. He always did. And once he had the answers, no one–especially Rachael–would keep him in the dark. Not anymore.
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Victor sat at his desk, the polished
mahogany surface gleaming under the dim office lights. His fingers tapped impatiently on the keyboard as he searched for any trace of information regarding Jamal.
He scrolled through news articles, social media profiles, and blogs, but the boy’s details were scarce. Nothing showed up. No pictures, no records. It was like Jamal didn’t exist.
Frustration gnawed at him. How could there be so little about the kid? If Jamal really was Rachael’s son, surely there would be something–anything–out there. But the internet remained stubbornly silent on the matter.
Victor leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. This wasn’t adding up. He had expected to find more. Rachael had
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always been in the public eye, so why was her child such a mystery?
As he scrolled aimlessly, one headline suddenly caught his attention. An old article from several years ago, buried beneath the noise of recent events:
“The Long–Lost Heiress, Rachael Morgan, Found by Her Uncle Clark Morgan.”
Victor froze, his eyes locked on the screen. “Wait, hold up,” he muttered to himself. His heartbeat quickened as he clicked on the article, his fingers shaking slightly from the surge of curiosity.
The page loaded slowly, revealing a faded image of Rachael. She looked much younger, almost innocent, standing beside an older man–her uncle, Clark Morgan.
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The article detailed how Rachael had been missing for years, believed to be dead, only to resurface after a desperate search led by her family. But what struck Victor the most wasn’t her sudden reappearance–it was her last name.
Morgan.
That name rang in his head like a bell. He had heard it before but hadn’t connected the dots. Now, it clicked. His breath hitched as he continued reading, his eyes scanning the text rapidly.
Victor’s heart pounded in his chest as the revelation settled in. His thoughts scrambled, trying to make sense of it all.
*Rachael Morgan*, not the orphan he thought she was, but the daughter of Rodrigo Morgan-*the* Rodrigo Morgan, one
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of the richest men in the country. The weight of that name crushed the narrative he had built in his mind for years.
How could he have been so blind?
Rachael hadn’t disappeared. He had driven her away. The memory of that time came rushing back with painful clarity–the betrayal, the affair with Evelyn, and the look on Rachael’s face when she found out. He had destroyed their marriage, not her. She had been loyal, trusting, vulnerable–and he had shattered that.
Victor leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the screen again. The article, the headlines–it all felt surreal. “Long–lost heiress Rachael Morgan found by her uncle, Clark Morgan.” His mind replayed the moment of his betrayal, the time he thought he’d moved on, convincing himself that
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Rachael had been just another woman. But she wasn’t. She was the heiress to a fortune
he had never known about.
He could still see Rachael’s tear–streaked face as she packed her things and left their home. The quiet, heart–wrenching way she had said, “I trusted you, Victor,” before walking out the door.
His stomach twisted in knots. He had always thought of Rachael as an orphan, someone with no family ties, no history. But that had been a lie-*or had it?*
“Wait,” he muttered to himself, leaning closer to the screen. “She didn’t know….”
It dawned on him that Rachael must have believed she was an orphan too. She couldn’t have known her true identity back then. That had to be it. Rachael had always
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been honest with him about her past–or at least the past she thought was hers. But now, the truth has come crashing down.
He remembered the first few years of their marriage when Rachael had seemed almost desperate for stability and love. He thought she was clinging to him because he was all she had. But now, he wondered if she was clinging to the idea of a family she thought she’d never have.
And he had ruined that with Evelyn.
A cold anger began to stir within him, a mix of guilt, betrayal, and a thirst for control. Rachael had moved on, but Victor wasn’t about to let her slip away again–not without answers. The questions swirled in his mind: *How had she learned the truth? Why now? What was she planning with that newfound power?*
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He slammed his laptop shut, the dull thud of it echoing in the silence of his office. He had cheated on her, betrayed her trust, and ruined their marriage–but now he felt a strange pull to her again.
Not just because of the wealth she now represented, but because he couldn’t stand the thought of her slipping through his fingers a second time.
“Rachael Morgan,” he said to himself, a bitter taste on his tongue. He had lost her once, but he wasn’t going to let that happen again. He needed answers. And this time, he would be the one in control.
Victor sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen but not really seeing anything. His mind was consumed by the chaos of the day–Rachael’s reappearance,
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the revelation about her being the long–lost heiress of Rodrigo Morgan, and now, the media frenzy surrounding them. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. *How had he missed all this?* He thought he knew everything about her, back when she was his wife. An orphan, or so she claimed. But now? She was tied to one of the richest families in ‘ the country.
He rubbed his temples, trying to piece together how everything could have gone so wrong. Just as he was lost in his thoughts, the door burst open, and Raphael rushed in, looking frantic.
“Dude, have you not seen the news?” Raphael shouted, his voice trembling with urgency.
Victor blinked, frowning as he glanced up at his best friend like he had lost his
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mind. “What are you talking about, bro?” he asked, clearly irritated. Raphael was always dramatic, but this was something else.
Without a word, Raphael grabbed the remote from the table and turned on the TV. His silence was unnerving.
The screen flickered to life, and the news channel’s breaking headlines splashed across the screen:
“BILLIONAIRE VICTOR ON THE BRINK OF DEATH AS HE’S BEATEN BY WELL–KNOWN CEO, DAMIAN. EX–WIFE RACHAEL TRIES TO INTERVENE. WHAT COULD BE HAPPENING? STAY TUNED FOR MORE DETAILS ON THE BILLIONAIRE’S SHOCKING DOWNFALL“.
“Fuck!” Victor muttered under his breath.
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Chapter 19 Escaping The Chaos.
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Chapter 19 Escaping The
