The string quartet stopped between notes. A waiter holding a tray of crystal flutes lowered his hand as if the glasses had grown too heavy

Three days later, the city was still reeling.

The Rochefort Foundation scandal had become the biggest news story in the country. Media outlets that had previously run fawning profiles of Elisa’s glamorous lifestyle were now competing to expose the horrific conditions discovered at the Hope Horizon Shelter. State authorities had shut the facility down, relocating the other children to legitimate, fully staffed facilities—all funded overnight by an anonymous donation from Cross Holdings.

At four o’clock on Friday afternoon, Damon held a press conference in the grand auditorium of Cross Global Headquarters.

More than two hundred journalists packed the room, flashbulbs popping like fireworks. Damon stood at the podium in a tailored navy suit, looking calm, composed, and formidable.

“Good afternoon,” Damon began, his voice commanding instant silence. “Three days ago, at what was supposed to be a charity event for underprivileged children, a five-year-old girl named Maya was publicly humiliated for daring to reach for food.”

The room held its breath.

“What the public did not know then,” Damon continued, “was that Maya’s mother was Sarah Vance—the brilliant inventor of the Vance Pediatric Cardiac Sensor. A technology that has saved thousands of lives, yet was stolen through corporate espionage by Rochefort Enterprises.”

Damon signaled the massive projection screen behind him. Documents, patents, and wire transfers flashed across the screen in clear, undeniable clarity.

“As of today, the federal courts have restored all intellectual property rights to the Vance estate. All back royalties—totaling over forty-eight million dollars—have been secured into an irrevocable trust for Maya Vance.”

Gasps rippled across the auditorium.

“Furthermore,” Damon said, his eyes scanning the cameras, “Cross Global is launching the Sarah Vance Foundation for Children. We are establishing six fully accredited, transparent shelter homes across the state, featuring full-time pediatric medical care, private tutoring, and guaranteed college scholarships for every resident.”

A reporter raised his hand, shouting out: “Mr. Cross! What about Elisa Rochefort? She claimed this morning that you orchestrated this entire scenario as a publicity stunt!”

Damon smiled thinly. It was a cold, devastating smile.

“Ms. Rochefort is currently being processed at the central precinct on twelve counts of wire fraud, embezzlement of charitable funds, and felony child neglect. She won't need to worry about publicity where she is going.”

Damon turned away from the podium, ignoring the explosion of shouted questions. He had said everything he needed to say. The world could talk all it wanted; his focus was already elsewhere.