Chapter 11

The moment we arrived, the whole atmosphere changed.

A swarm of reporters surged forward, cameras flashing so rapidly it was almost blinding. Security barely managed to create a path for the car as the shouting grew louder, more aggressive.

"Is it true that Mr. Caldwell left everything to you?"

"Are you really going to take his entire fortune?"

"What did you do to Mr. Caldwell to make him give you all his wealth?"

I stiffened. The implication in their voices made my stomach turn.

Cole was out of the car in an instant, moving around to open my door. I hesitated, gripping the seat like it was a lifeline.

"Astrid, let's go."k His voice was firm but calm, cutting through the noise.

Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand in his, and the moment I stepped out, the flashing intensified. The questions turned uglier.

"Did you seduce him?"

"Were you his mistress?"

"Did you manipulate an old man into giving you everything?"

The security team had to physically push the reporters back to their designated line, but their voices still reached me. The judgment, the disgust—it was clear they had already made up their minds about me.

I felt sick.

Cole's grip on my hand tightened slightly, grounding me. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. Ignore them. Just keep walking."

I nodded, forcing myself to move as he led me into the towering glass building. Caldwell Enterprises. A multi-billion dollar company specializing in high-end luxury goods—everything from designer fashion to exclusive real estate.

Inside, the noise from outside was muffled, but the tension lingered. Cole guided me through the sleek marble-floored lobby, past employees who openly gawked at me, and straight to a conference room where a proper press conference was set up.

Rows of reporters sat behind microphones, waiting. Cameras were already rolling.

Cole turned to me, lowering his voice. "Just answer what you can. You don't owe them anything. And remember, you're in control here. You can do whatever you want."

I wasn't so sure about that.

Because right now, all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed and hide from the world.

The room was suffocating.

The cameras flashed in blinding bursts, the reporters' voices overlapping as they called out my name. I had expected this, but nothing could have prepared me for the way it actually felt—to be sitting in the center of a storm, alone, while the world judged me.

I forced my shoulders back, my hands clasped tightly on the table in front of me. The chair beneath me felt stiff, just like the expressions of the reporters waiting for my answers.

The first question was simple, almost kind.

"It must be nice, coming into such newfound wealth."

A brunette woman in the front row tilted her head, her tone light, almost teasing.

I offered a small, rehearsed smile. "Nice and terrifying at the same time," I admitted, keeping my voice level.

A few quiet chuckles rippled through the crowd. I let myself believe, for one foolish second, that this wouldn't be as bad as I feared.

More questions came. About the company, about my plans. I answered them as best as I could, my words careful but firm.

And then, the shift happened.

"Mr. Caldwell hired you as his caregiver, even though you had no prior experience."

I tensed as a different reporter, a sharp-eyed man in a dark suit, leaned forward. "Plus, you were a medical school dropout. Are you really expecting us to believe that there was nothing… inappropriate between you two?"

The words cut like a knife, a veiled accusation wrapped in false curiosity.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay composed. "Yes, I dropped out of medical school," I said slowly, keeping my voice steady despite the lump forming in my throat. "Because I had to take care of my mother. She was sick, and all our money went toward her medication. I couldn't afford to continue my studies."

I swallowed hard, then added, "As for experience, I had plenty. I'd been caring for my mother since I was five years old. The only relationship I had with Mr. Caldwell was that he was my boss… and my friend."

My voice wavered slightly at the end. I hated that it did.

But the reporter wasn't done.

"Your only friend?" He raised an eyebrow. "So he gave you everything out of… friendship?"*

Before I could answer, another voice cut in.

"His real family must be devastated. Are you planning to throw them out of their home?"

"What? No!"

"Then why haven't you relinquished the will?"

"Because Mr. Caldwell made his choice," I said firmly.

"And you expect us to believe that an elderly billionaire just handed over his fortune to a young, beautiful woman like yourself—out of the kindness of his heart?"

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

I could feel the shift. They weren't asking for answers. They were building a story.

"You were in his home day and night. You had full access to him in his most vulnerable state."

"Did you manipulate him?"

"Seduce him?"

My breath hitched.

"Did you know he was going to change his will beforehand?"

"How much influence did you have over his decisions in his final days?"

The room was closing in.

I tried to answer, but the words stuck in my throat. More questions were thrown at me, louder, harsher.

"Was this your plan all along?"

"Did you isolate him from his family?"

"How does it feel, knowing the world sees you as nothing more than a gold digger?"

I couldn't breathe.

The voices blended together, forming a wall of noise I couldn't break through. I wanted to scream that they were wrong. That I hadn't done anything. That I had loved Mr. Caldwell like family, that he had trusted me because I had been there for him when no one else was.

But it didn't matter what I said.

They had already made up their minds.