“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be getting started in just a minute,” I say into the microphone as I look over the sea of faces of reporters and bystanders who are gazing at me.

For the first time in my life, I’m hoping that I’ve dressed conservatively enough. I spent at least an hour looking at myself in the mirror, making sure that my ass wasn’t sticking out or that I wasn’t showing too much boob.

Even then, Carter couldn’t help but sidle up behind me and take me in his big, strong hands. I remember feeling so safe.

And then I felt his cock poke my ass.

I remember rolling my eyes and taking off my skirt, trying to find another one.

I mean, don’t you roll your eyes at me, okay? Your boyfriend getting a boner for you is a good thing normally, but not on days you’re trying to look serious.

“Relax Eliza,” Carter said with a smile. “We’re going to do great.”

And all of a sudden I knew he was right. His confidence was unshakeable. It actually made me feel stronger than I had all morning. It made me realize how much loved him.

And how much I loved another.

Now, the sea of faces is watching me and I’m trying to pick out if maybe Derek is among those people. Something in my heart is telling me that he’s close by. Although my brain is telling me to stop thinking such things and to focus on the moment. But I can’t help it, ya know? I can’t help thinking he’s going to pop out and this will all be over soon. Like a nightmare.

But Derek doesn’t pop out. Someone else steps out. Someone I haven’t expected to be here and who sends chills up my spine.

“Before the press conference gets started, I have a question as a member of the concerned public,” my stepmother, Wanda Seymour speaks up.

Fuck. She’s staked out enough of a spot to stand in that she’s right in the middle of the crowd of reporters and they can’t help but hear her.

“Ignore her, Eliza,” Carter says into my ear, putting his hand on the small of my back, steadying me. “Don’t let her get to you.”

I nod. Wanda smiles at me with an evil tint, but I focus my eyes elsewhere. I can’t let her get to me.

“I have a prepared statement to make, and then I’ll answer any and all questions that people may have,” I begin, putting an edge of steel into my voice.

“I believe that Wanda, your stepmother had a point she was trying to make,” a reporter for the New York Daily Journal yells out. I sigh. I don’t know if the reporter is on her payroll or is simply looking for some drama. But whatever the reasoning, they’re not letting this go.

But still I press on. I feel Carter’s comforting hand on the small of my back and it gives me hope to continue.

“My father was a great man. He built many things in this city and this country that last to this day. In doing so, he amassed a sizable fortune for not just himself, but for his family as well,” I say and then look out. I pause, wondering how I’m going to get through this next bit. It’s going to be tough. “I would like to say that I’ve always been a good daughter. But, I haven’t.”

I let the statement hang in the air before continuing. “I’ve been many times the opposite of a good daughter,” I say, before pausing again to take a breath. I knew this was going to be difficult.

“I’ve said and done things that now, looking back on, I regret,” I say into the microphone. The reporters are looking at me. They’re scrutinizing whether I’m telling the truth and being genuine or just trying to pass off a fake game on them.

I take a deep breath before I continue. “When I found out that my father was dead and I was a continent away, it broke my heart. But when I found out that he had authorized me to carry out his legacy, I felt a renewed sense of hope. That in this last deed, I’d be able to do something to redeem his years of trust, support and faith in me. That I would be able to show the world that I truly was my father’s daughter. But there is no way I would ever embezzle money through improper investments in such a manner. To do so would contravene every last one of the principles that he held dear and that I struggle to live up to daily. I wholeheartedly dispute any accusation from any party that I acted with full knowledge in a manner that was not in keeping with the standards that he set. I don’t care if it's a stranger on the street or Derek Stackford. It’s false.”

The photographers start clicking as I stop because they can sense the profoundness of my statement.

Could this really be it?

Could I have put a stop to it all then and there.

There’s silence.

“Before you leave thinking maybe this is all over, I have a question,” I hear a voice and my heart falls. I look over to the voice and Wanda. “Maybe you’d like to explain then why you didn’t stop any progress on moving toward Red Lion Aviation?”

I don’t know what to say.

“Or why Red Lion Aviation executives are able to swear under oath that they’ve been directed to wire the funds back to you once your father’s money hits the corporate accounts overseas,” Wanda continues.

What.

The.

Fuck.

“You realize that despite your statement about wanting to be daddy’s little girl, you’ve committed tax evasion and fraud, right?” Wanda says. “You’ve abused your position as head of the foundation to enrich yourself.”

“That’s enough!” Carter says. He can see that I’m frozen. He can see that my mind is working for an answer and to give me room, he interjects himself into the debate. “Eliza has done nothing wrong.”

Wanda gives him a smile. “You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” The evil is permeating from her in waves. She looks around the reporters. “Maybe you want to explain to them how your company is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. And how you’re hoping to get a cut from Eliza’s embezzlement to save your own self.”

Carter’s face goes red. I know about his company problems, but we’ve never thought that it would spill out like this.

“You two thought you had a nice little thing going, didn’t you?” Wanda asks and I can see the reporters and photographers giving her a circle to do her talking. “You thought you’d come back to New York, embezzle a few billion dollars, save a hedge fund, fuck a ton, and then leave the rest of the family out in the street, didn’t you?” Acid drips from her words.

“That’s not true at all,” I say into the microphone.

“You’re delusional, Wanda,” Carter says. “Either that or you’re lying.”

Wanda bristles. “Careful, Mr. Blake. I think I know your honesty or lack thereof quite well. Or did you forget that I was married to you?”

Carter bristles. He’s angry.

But one thing I know about Carter Blake.

He would never ever lie. Not to me. Not to the public. Not about something like this.

“Your question that you should be preparing to answer,” my stepmother says, drawing out her words with a smirk. “Is figuring out whether you’re going to deal with tax evasion charges or fraud charges first. And how the two of you are going to communicate from jail.”

There’s murmuring going through the crowd at this point. Reporters taking pictures of the two of us. I can just imagine what the New York Daily Journal is going to have as its tabloid headline tomorrow. Or what Good Day USA will have to say about us. Honestly, though, you ever notice that they seem to go through anchor people like every show? They’re replacing them like every day.

That’s how crazy my brain is right now. It’s focusing on the smallest things because it doesn’t know how to deal with the issue of Wanda advancing toward us.

“Jail is probably the least of your worries, actually,” she says. “Not after the having your names dragged through the mud for the thieves that you are.”

She’s smirking. She’s enjoying this. I could—

Wait.

“The only one who should seriously be worried about jail in this farce, Wanda, is you,” a voice calls out.

I knew it!

I knew he was here somewhere. The crowd starts murmuring and parting.

And standing right there with a bad boy smirk on his face is none other than Derek Stackford.

“What? You guys started the fucking party without me?” Derek asks. And I feel nothing but relief.