My Son Called The Billionaire Dad

25 - Broken Trust

The rumours continued. They increased in number, in size, in volume and in persistence with each passing day. Every morning appeared to bring a new headline, a new charge, or another untruth masquerading as speculation. The narrative had become a living thing, increasing power with every repost, remark and online piece. What had started as a few murmurs had grown into a steady stream of rumour, travelling far from its source to reach individuals who had never seen Ava but who nonetheless thought they had a right to criticise her.

At first she wanted to ignore it, thinking that if she paid attention it would only get worse. When that didn’t work, she gave up on social media. That effort took a solid two days. The problem was that the gossip was no longer confined to comment sections and behind screens. People brought it right into her life. Customers murmured when they thought she couldn’t hear, lowering their voices just enough to make it clear they were talking about her. Strangers stared a little too long, their curiosity and judgement openly lingering in their eyes. People she’d never met acted as though they knew every detail of her life, making snap judgements based on rumours and stories they’d swallowed as gospel. The continual watch was tiring, eating away at her tolerance and peace of mind, bit by little through every contact, until even the most mundane of everyday duties were heavier than they ought to be.

Worst of all, Noah was starting to notice.

“Mommy?”

Ava looked up from the counter at the sound of his voice. “Yes?”

The little boy hesitated before speaking, his small face unusually serious as he searched her expression.

“Why did that lady call you a bad person?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The sounds of the café faded into the background, and the murmur of conversations and clatter of dishes became distant and indistinct as his question settled heavily between them. Ava felt something inside her c***k beneath its weight. Noah should never have heard something like that, and he certainly should not have carried it with him long enough for it to surface now. The innocence in his eyes made the words sting even more, transforming a careless stranger’s comment into something far more painful. Looking at him, so earnest and genuinely confused, she could think only of how unfair it was that he had been exposed to any of it at all, forced to grapple with questions no child should have to ask.

Forcing a smile despite the ache tightening in her chest, she said, “Some people say things that aren’t true.”

Noah frowned, his small brows drawing together as he considered her answer.

“Why?”

It was a question adults still struggled to answer. Ava knelt beside him and gently met his gaze. “Because sometimes people don’t know the whole story.” Noah considered that carefully, his small face thoughtful as he weighed her explanation for several long seconds before finally seeming to accept it. At last, he gave a small nod. “Okay.” He seemed satisfied, at least for now, his curiosity temporarily eased by an answer that made enough sense to him. Ava, however, wasn’t satisfied. Not even close. The question lingered in her mind long after Noah appeared ready to move on, leaving behind a quiet unease she couldn’t ignore.

After Noah had gone to bed that nite, Ava sat alone in her flat, her phone in her hand. Silence strained at the walls, sharpening the loneliness, making it harder to ignore. The room was filled with shadows and the feeble illumination of the computer lit eyes that were tired from days of looking and gossip and judgement from strangers who knew nothing about her life. Still, she continued scrolling.

One item after another was read, reopening wounds just starting to close. It was a bad habit, one she could never seem to break no matter how many times she promised herself that she would. Every headline was a bruise she kept picking at to check whether it still hurt, and every comment sucked her deeper into a loop she knew was only making things worse. The stories ripped her life apart, twisted moments she barely knew happened, encouraged numerous comments from people who had never met her. Another piece was waiting for her at the end of the first, and although tiredness settled heavily in her chest, she kept reading, unable to look away from the story being spun around her.

Then she came across a new story, a business article featuring an interview with Liam.

Her stomach tightened immediately. This was the first interview he had given since the scandal began, the first opportunity he had to publicly defend her. Holding her breath, Ava opened the article and read every word, her eyes moving quickly across the screen as anticipation and anxiety twisted together in her chest.

By the time she reached the end her chest ached tightly, each breath harder than the last. The interview was about the corporation, the constant media attention and how the dispute affected business. It was the headlines, the public scrutiny, the problems that had come in the wake of the rumours. But throughout every paragraph, every carefully crafted answer, and every cited remark, one thing stood out more than anything else. Liam never talked about her. Not Ava, not the rumours about her, not the attacks she had suffered. There was nothing there.

She stared at the screen, her pulse beating heavily in her ears as she read the article again, searching for something she might have missed. Then she read it a third time, slowing down and examining every sentence as though a different answer might somehow appear. Her gaze lingered over every paragraph, every quote, and every carefully chosen response, tracing the same words over and over while hope steadily gave way to disappointment.

Still, there was nothing.

A painful thought slipped into her mind. Maybe he was protecting the company. Maybe he was protecting himself. Maybe defending her publicly simply wasn’t worth the risk. The possibility hurt more than it should have, striking with a force she hadn't expected.

Because at some point she had started to trust him again. She hadn't realised it, but she had come to believe that when things were tough, he would stand by her instead of stepping away. Slowly that had become a consistent thing. Something she depended on more than she was willing to acknowledge. It had offered a peaceful comfort in uncertain times, a confidence she had never consciously questioned until now. And at his silence she knew how much she had trusted in it, and the lack of even one public nod was much louder than any he could have made.

Trust made disappointment possible, and sadness sat heavy in Ava's chest as she lowered her phone and looked into the silence of her apartment. The room was quiet in an unnatural way, the usual low hum of sounds lost in the weight of her thoughts. The silence crept in on all sides, and she was left alone with questions she didn't want to ask, uncertainties she'd rather not face. She stayed, phone slack in her palm, as the silence extended and the anguish of that realisation stuck.

Meanwhile, Liam was having the worst week of his life. The board wanted statements, investors wanted reassurance, and lawyers wanted strategy meetings. Everyone wanted something from him, and nobody seemed to understand what actually mattered. Ava and Noah. That was it. That was the entire list. Everything else, from corporate concerns to public relations disasters, felt secondary compared to the people occupying every spare moment of his thoughts.

When his office door opened, his public relations director stepped inside with a look that suggested she was carrying information she considered important. “Good news.”

Liam looked at her skeptically, leaning back slightly in his chair. “That would be a first.”

The woman ignored the comment without missing a beat. “The interview helped.”

Liam frowned, confusion immediately crossing his face. “What interview?”

“The one from this morning.”

Immediately, he remembered. It had been a rushed conversation squeezed in before a shareholder meeting, an interview he had barely wanted to do in the first place. His team had repeatedly instructed him to avoid discussing his personal life, remain neutral, and avoid feeding the story.

His jaw tightened. He had hated every second of it.

“What about it?”

“The coverage is shifting.”

Liam barely heard the rest. A sudden realization hit him with enough force to drown out everything else. Ava had probably seen it, and from her perspective, it likely looked terrible. The thought sent a knot twisting in his stomach as he grabbed his phone and called her immediately. When there was no answer, his stomach dropped. He called again, staring at the screen as it rang, but there was still nothing. The silence on the other end felt heavier with each passing second, and a growing sense of unease settled in his chest. It was not a good sign, definitely not a good sign.

Across town, Ava stared at her vibrating phone as Liam’s name flashed across the screen once, then twice, then a third time. The device buzzed insistently against the table, demanding a response she wasn’t ready to give. She let it ring, not because she was angry, but because she was hurt, and right now, she didn’t trust herself to speak. Eventually, the call ended and the room fell quiet, but the silence lasted only a moment before the phone buzzed again with a new notification.

Liam: Can we talk?

Ava stared at the words for a few long seconds, then locked her phone without replying. The screen blacked out, but the aching in her chest did not. The silence that followed should have been a relief, but it only served to increase the hollow feeling inside her.

Now distance grew between them for the first time since Noah had put them back together. It was small and quiet and deadly, and had insinuated itself into places where trust had only just begun to take root. Neither of them had intended it, yet there was a division, wasn't there, one that was minor enough to be overlooked at first, but large enough to matter.

The next afternoon, Liam arrived at the café. Ava immediately knew why he was there and suddenly found herself deeply interested in wiping the same table over and over again. Her attention remained fixed on the cloth in her hand, even though the surface was already spotless, the wood polished to a shine that left no trace of dust behind.

“Ava.”

She didn’t look up. “Busy.”

“No, you’re avoiding me.”

Her hand paused for the briefest second before she forced herself to continue, dragging the cloth across the table as though the task required her full concentration.

Liam sighed. “Ava, look at me.”

Finally, she did.

The hurt in her eyes hit him harder than any headline ever could. There was no anger there, no dramatic accusation, only disappointment, and somehow that was far worse.

“What?”

The single word felt colder than usual, carrying a distance and guardedness that immediately put him on edge, and Liam hated it the moment he heard it.

“I know why you’re upset.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

Ava folded her arms across her chest, her expression unreadable as she held his gaze. “Then explain.”

Liam opened his mouth, ready with an answer, but the words stalled before they could leave him, and he stopped, caught by the challenge in her voice and the realization that what had seemed clear a moment ago suddenly felt far less certain.

Because for the first time in days, he wasn't dealing with reporters, lawyers, or investors. He was dealing with Ava, and somehow that felt much harder. The conversations he could have with reporters were predictable. Lawyers dealt in facts, contracts, and negotiations. Investors wanted numbers, projections, and certainty. Ava was different. Every exchange with her seemed to leave him more frustrated and more uncertain than before, as though the distance between them only widened no matter how carefully he tried to navigate it.

Outside the café window, a photographer quietly snapped a picture, unnoticed by either of them. The camera captured the tension hanging between them, the distance neither seemed to know how to bridge, and the misunderstanding that continued to grow in the silence separating them. Their expressions, their posture, and the guarded stillness at the table combined to tell a story that could easily be interpreted the wrong way by anyone already searching for signs of conflict or trouble.

Exactly as Victoria hoped.

Because sometimes the most effective lies weren't spoken at all. Sometimes all people needed was a reason to doubt each other, a carefully framed moment that encouraged them to see what wasn't really there. And doubt, subtle and persistent, was finally beginning to do its job.