Chapter 33 Billionaire's Scandal

• The mansion was a hollow shell of its former warmth, the air thick with unspoken resentments. Gerald lounged in his leather chair, the faint creak of the upholstery punctuating the silence as he swirled a glass of champagne. The golden liquid caught the dim light of the chandelier, a mocking reminder of the opulence that once defined their lives. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as fury simmered beneath his polished exterior. Outside, the clamor of reporters grew louder, their voices a relentless hum that seeped through the walls. The video—grainy, damning, inescapable—played on an endless loop across the internet: Gerald, his hands outstretched, shoving Elise down the grand staircase, her body crumpling like a discarded doll. The world had turned against him, investors fleeing like rats from a sinking ship, and Imperium Group, the empire Elise had gifted him, teetered on the brink of collapse.
• He sipped the champagne, the bubbles bitter on his tongue. “Fabricated,” he muttered to himself, the lie as familiar as his heartbeat. He had repeated it so often—to the press, his lawyers, and the mirror—that it almost felt true. But the truth gnawed at him, a relentless shadow he couldn’t outrun.
• Years earlier, the world had been softer, brighter. Elise stood in the modest office of Imperium Group, her auburn hair catching the sunlight streaming through the window. She was radiant, her ambition a quiet fire that had built the company from nothing.