Chapter 7 - The Desperate Strike
With his corporate empire destroyed and his shadow creditors hunting him, David did what every cornered rat does: he tried to strike back using the only weapon he thought he had left—scandal.
Three weeks after his eviction, a trashy tabloid paper published a front-page tell-all interview titled: “THE ICE QUEEN OF GREENWICH: How a Ruthless Heiress Destroyed Her Husband and Abandoned His Elderly Parents.”
The article was filled with fabricated stories provided by Teresa and David. They claimed I had abused them, starved them, stolen David’s company through corporate trickery, and cast his frail parents into the street without a penny.
Photos of Teresa crying outside the motel were featured prominently on the front page.
My phone rang continuously for twelve hours. Reporters from major news networks gathered outside the iron gates of my estate.
Marcus arrived at my house at noon, looking deeply concerned. "Eleanor, this is getting dirty. The public loves a story about a rich heiress crushing a middle-class family. It’s affecting the family foundation’s stock price."
I sat by the window, watching the press pack outside my gate. I wasn't upset. In fact, I was delighted.
"Marcus," I said, turning to him with a radiant smile. "David just gave us the ultimate gift."
"Defamation?" Marcus blinked.
"Publicity," I corrected. "He brought this into the light. Now we get to show the world the receipts."
That evening, I hosted a live, televised press conference from the ballroom of the St. Regis Hotel in Manhattan. Over fifty major news outlets were present, expecting a defensive billionaire heiress trying to save her reputation.
Instead, I stepped up to the podium wearing a simple black dress, calm, composed, and dignified.
"Thank you all for coming," I said clearly into the bank of microphones. "Recently, allegations were made against me by my estranged husband, David Hayes, and his family. Rather than issue vague statements through public relations firms, I believe in absolute transparency."
Behind me, a massive high-definition projector screen lowered from the ceiling.
"This," I said, pressing a clicker, "is the itemized bank statement from Fifth Avenue’s Zao Zero Diamond Boutique, showing David spending fifteen thousand dollars on a diamond pendant for his mistress, Chloe Bennet, thirty minutes before telling me he was flying to Tokyo for work."
The room erupted into gasps and flashing camera lights.
"This," I clicked again, "is the flight manifest for the private charter to Paris he booked for himself and Miss Bennet using my family’s trust fund."
"And this," I clicked a third time, displaying a high-resolution video feed, "is the security footage from inside my Greenwich home during the winter storm. As you can see, the central heating was turned off in one wing after Mr. Hayes’s parents locked themselves inside and threatened physical violence against my house staff."
The reporters were practically climbing over each other to take photos of the screen.
"I offered my ex-husband a quiet divorce," I concluded, looking straight into the main camera lens. "He chose to fight a war in the press. I have filed a twenty-million-dollar defamation lawsuit against David Hayes, Teresa Hayes, and the publication that printed these lies. All proceeds from this lawsuit will be donated directly to shelters for victims of domestic abuse."
I stepped away from the podium, leaving the room in total, absolute pandemonium.
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By midnight, the internet had turned David and Teresa into the most hated people in New York. The tabloid issued a full retraction and public apology, firing the reporter who wrote the story.
David’s reputation wasn't just ruined—it was erased from polite society forever.
