Chapter 6: The Press conference

Mabel's POV

I didn't have the time for all of this. My team and I had to leave soon.

I hastened my steps as I approached her, where she stood.

“Aunt, what are you doing here?” I asked, fearing that she might cause a scene.

“Let's talk somewhere a bit private,” I said, taking her hand in mine.

She didn't resist, I took her to a more secluded corner.

“Tell me it's not true.” She pleaded; her eyes, which were earlier filled with rage, were now sorrowful. I felt a dull ache in my chest.

“Why did you do this to me? Have I committed a crime so unforgivable that the heavens chose to punish me this way?” she said with teary eyes.

“I didn't mean to keep this away from you. I didn't even want this. Dad promised me he would tell you himself and I thought he did.” I explained rushing my words as an indication that I was in a hurry.

“You didn't want this, yet you went ahead with it?” Her voice held disbelief.

“Dad made it his dying wish.”

She gasped.

“That block-headed brother of mine! I will so deal with him!”

I smiled nervously “Please take it easy on him”

“He doesn't learn, does he?? After everything that happened because of them, he went ahead and got you married to that bastard!” She gritted her teeth in irritation.

Okay, everything that happened? I was lost.

“Sorry? I don't follow” I already know Landon is a jerk. But her statement shows that we had a history with them. But I didn't even know about their existence until recently.

Just then my phone rang. It was Dylan.

Wrong timing.

“Look aunt, I have to go now. I have work to do. But I promise to stop by sometime.” I pulled her into a tight hug and she sniffed on my shoulder.

I was scared she would mess up my shirt by how tight she held me as if squeezing the life out of me.

“You’d better keep your promise.” She warned as we disengaged from the hug.

“I will.”

We walked outside and my team was already waiting in the van. I flagged down a cab and got her settled.

After she left I went to the van and took my seat at the front, right next to the driver.

As the van set off, I decided to quickly go through the questions and get a little familiar with them before reaching the venue.

In no time, we arrived at the venue.

The doors flew open with a loud bang, and all heads turned in our direction. I was met with a pair of cold eyes! I froze! Why did it have to be him?

*****

Landon's POV

I had only one aim in my return to the country. My grandfather single-handedly started a real estate company, which has expanded massively over the years.

On my return, I intended to diversity and explore the world of tech and software, sensing the increased relevance of technology and the rapid advancement of tech in society.

Barely two months after my arrival, my grandfather made me sign a marriage certificate against my wish.

He was the one person I respected more than any other person. And he had never asked me for anything before, so there was no way out.

It seemed really important to him, I've never seen him so insistent on me doing something before.

There are huge promising investment projects I could embark on.

I decided to leverage the opportunity and establish a software company of my own. Hence, this press conference.

I was startled by a loud bang, I lifted my gaze only to see Mabel and her accomplices. My eyes narrowed, she sure has a way of ruining my mood.

I glanced at my wristwatch, and it had already been 30 minutes since the interview started.

She had some nerves to barge in here like she owned the place.

“Haha, sorry.” She laughed nervously and entered the hall, her head low.

Some of the others who came with her set up their camera while she took her seat in front, alongside the other press members.

How could someone be so clumsy? I thought of possible ways to deal with her.

My eyes brightened as the right idea struck me! An evil smirk found its way to my lips. This earned a look from AJ, but I didn't care.

“President Ferguson, are you focusing on startups, established companies, or developing your own tech firm?” an interviewer asked.

“ I don’t do small. If I wanted to play around with startups, I would have done it years ago. I’m here to dominate, not experiment.” I replied bluntly, my voice stern, yet reserved.

“Which sectors of technology interests you the most—AI, cybersecurity, fintech, or something else?” Came another question.

“All of them. Why limit myself? AI, fintech, blockchain—you name it. If it prints money, I’m interested.” I said proudly. I caught a few of the female reporters blushing!

Such shameless beings!

“What unique contributions do you hope to make in the tech industry?” Mabel threw her first question.

I stared coldly into her eyes and said “I don’t contribute. I take over. That’s what I do.” She scrunched her face in distaste.

At that moment I wished I could strangle her. Why did it seem like she was insufferable?

She gets under my skin without even making an effort.

“How much are you willing to invest in this new venture?” a female reporter asked, just the kind of questions I liked to answer.

“Enough to make everyone else in the industry very, very nervous.” A cunning smile crept onto my lips as I answered.

“How will you address concerns about data privacy and security in your tech ventures?” The she-devil continued her interrogation, her tone sharper this time, as if she had already judged me guilty.

“People complain about privacy, but they give away their entire lives online for free. I’m just smart enough to profit from it.” I shot back my tone colder than usual.

“So, you’re saying you have no regard for ethical business practices? That you exploit ignorance for profit?” She pressed, leaning forward as if trying to catch me in a trap.

Did she want to play? Alright, two can play this game.

“I’m saying people love convenience more than they love privacy. And companies—big and small—have been monetizing that for decades. I’m just not pretending to be a saint while doing it.”

There was murmuring in the press room.

But she didn't back down.

“That sounds dangerously close to admitting that you have no moral boundaries in business.” She accused; another murmur erupted. My countenance darkened instantly.

This was more than just an ‘interview’. She was trying to humiliate me.

“You call it ‘dangerous.’ I call it reality. Or do you want to pretend that your network, your employer, isn’t collecting and selling data? Should I pull up some reports?” I pointed an accusing finger at her. Heat rose to my face, I was running out of patience.

A few reporters turned to each other, intrigued. She swallowed.

This didn't feel like an interview anymore but a debate between this witch and me.

“That’s different. We—”

I cut her off. “No, it’s not. The difference is, I don’t lie about it.

You sit there, self-righteous, pretending you’re on the moral high ground when the very company paying your salary thrives on ad revenue from user data.

Maybe instead of grilling me, you should be asking your bosses why they do the same thing!” I said all in one breath, my eyes not leaving hers.

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

For a moment there was absolute silence.

I leaned back in my chair, relaxed, victorious. What's worse than humiliation on live television?

“Next question. Or should I wait for security to escort you out?”