The Accusation

"When truth rises, pride resists. But storms don't ask permission before they break."

The room's atmosphere changed the moment Katherine Samuel walked in. Cameras, which had just begun to settle, turned as though magnetized to her presence. She cut through the rows of reporters like a force of nature, eyes sharp, posture immaculate, documents held with the confidence of someone used to winning—not because she was always right, but because she knew how to command the narrative.

Kiefer, still by the podium, felt the tension thicken around her like fog. She remained calm, her fingers lightly resting on the side of the stand, but her heart picked up pace—not from fear, but from the silent war of wills that had just begun.

"Miss Samuel," Katherine's voice rang, laced with practiced courtesy but underscored by simmering disdain. "I appreciate your...passion for this cause." She turned slightly to address the press. "And I believe the truth should always come out. Which is why I took the liberty of bringing some documents that clarify the situation."

She stepped forward, tapping her tablet to mirror it with the presentation screen behind them. The media watched with bated breath as the new images loaded.

The first: a screenshot of a file submission confirmation from White Pharma's internal portal, dated two months ago.

"Project Herbas was submitted under my name through official company channels," Katherine said, voice smooth. "This document proves that. You'll also notice the attached user ID and time signature." She paused just enough to make sure the details were seen. "I submitted the final proposal draft before any public disclosure was made by Miss Kiefer Samuel."

Kiefer inhaled slowly, steadying herself.

Katherine clicked again. "Here is a memo from the Research and Development team, acknowledging my submission and offering initial review notes. The response was timestamped within 48 hours."

Reporters leaned closer to their devices. Some exchanged glances—curious, cautious, calculating.

"And finally," Katherine said, her voice tightening slightly as emotion slipped beneath her armor, "this is a letter of support signed by three board members—Dr. Harren, Ms. Liu, and Mr. Bayle—confirming their awareness of my project and expressing confidence in my leadership of it."

She turned to the audience and lowered her tablet.

"I understand Miss Samuel feels passionate about this idea," she said, her tone carefully balancing sympathy with steel. "But in corporate environments, we often see overlapping concepts, especially in research sectors. Similar inspirations can arise independently. What we must rely on is protocol—documentation, procedure, and submission logs."

A journalist raised their hand. "Are you implying Miss Samuel had no involvement in the development of Herbas?"

Katherine smiled. "I'm saying that I was the one who followed the correct processes, submitted the proposal, and developed it to its current form under White Pharma's mentorship. If she had a similar idea previously, it was never brought through the official channel—until now."

Another reporter, one from a more investigative outlet, stood. "But Miss Samuel has shown timestamped emails, lab videos, and university-backed research dated prior to your submission. How do you respond to that?"

Katherine faltered for a brief second.

Then recovered. "University work is often broad and exploratory. It is not uncommon for multiple students to touch on overlapping themes. But unless formal intellectual property claims are made—and unless submissions are made under professional structures—such ideas remain...academic."

Kiefer flinched internally. That was the dig, clean and subtle. Katherine wasn't denying her research—she was invalidating its legitimacy through procedural framing.

"But why is there no mention of collaboration, if Miss Samuel indeed worked under the same roof on a similar project?" another journalist asked, clearly skeptical.

Katherine didn't hesitate. "Because there wasn't one. I was working on this independently. Perhaps Miss Samuel was inspired. Or perhaps she genuinely believes she contributed more than she did. Either way, I have no reason to challenge her character. I'm here only to protect the integrity of my work—and my name."

The last words were sharp, calculated, and personal.

The press conference, once a clear field, had become a chessboard. And Katherine had just claimed her move.

Kiefer met her eyes, silently. Katherine's lips curved in a polite smile—but behind it, the tension crackled. This wasn't over. It wasn't even close.

Another question flew across the room. "Miss Katherine, if your claims are accurate and the board supports you, does that mean Herbas will continue under your leadership?"

Katherine nodded. "Yes. With all due respect to Miss Samuel, the company's strategic direction will not be altered due to individual concerns. Herbas is moving forward as scheduled."

Whispers spread like wildfire.

But even in the buzz, one voice rang out—unexpected and clear.

"Is Mr. Davis White aware of this statement?" the journalist asked.

Katherine's smile twitched. "He is aware of the board's stance."

But the question had already planted seeds.

Kiefer stepped forward, not to interrupt, but to stand beside her truth. She had waited, listened, and allowed Katherine to perform. But now the silence between them was too loud to ignore.

"This isn't just about who submitted a PDF first," Kiefer said softly, looking into the crowd. "This is about why we're here. About ethics, honesty, and whether a voice from the margins gets heard over someone with connections."

She turned, locking eyes with Katherine.

"I may not have submitted my paper to a portal before you did. But that doesn't erase who lit the match."

Reporters started to rise, more questions shouted over one another, but the moderator stepped in and signaled the session's end. Flashbulbs burst. Voices echoed.

Katherine turned and exited, heels clicking sharply on the marble once again.

Kiefer stood her ground.

She didn't know yet what Davis would say. Or whether the board would bend.

But the truth had been voiced.

And next, the one person whose words could tip the scales would speak.