Chapter 5 – The Press Scandal
1658 Words
It began with a single headline.
Then another.
And another.
By morning, the entire city had caught fire.
“Aria Laurent: The Mysterious CEO Who Rose from Nowhere!”
“Striking Resemblance to Late Mrs. Aria Blake—Coincidence or Comeback?”
“Blake Industries’ Rival CEO Sparks Media Frenzy!”
Every major business outlet, every gossip column, every online feed carried her face — the face she’d so carefully hidden for years.
Aria stood in her office, phone in hand, scrolling through the storm of notifications. Each article was a dagger — not because of the speculation, but because of how easily the world connected the dots.
The same hair. The same eyes. The same poise.
No matter how carefully she’d built the Laurent identity, some ghosts refused to stay buried.
“Ma’am,” her assistant said nervously, entering with a stack of reports. “The press is waiting downstairs. They want a statement. Some are even saying you faked your death—”
“Of course they are,” Aria interrupted coolly. She dropped her phone onto the desk, her voice calm though her pulse thundered in her veins. “Let them talk.”
“But, ma’am—”
“I said let them talk,” she repeated. “Scandals only live when you feed them.”
The assistant hesitated, then nodded. “Understood.”
As the door shut behind her, Aria released a shaky breath. Her heart betrayed her calm exterior — beating wildly, unevenly, like it too remembered what she’d lost.
This wasn’t how she’d planned for things to unfold.
Her revenge was meant to be slow, strategic — a silent dismantling of Damian Blake’s empire.
Not this.
Not a media circus that threatened to expose everything.
Her secret.
Her past.
And worst of all… Roland.
Her gaze drifted to the silver picture frame on her desk — a small, hidden photograph of her son. His smile was Damian’s. His eyes, hers.
She pressed her fingers against the glass, her throat tightening. “No one can ever know, my love,” she whispered. “Not yet.”
---
The sound of the newsroom filled the air — phones ringing, voices buzzing, flashes of camera lights even within the glass-walled building of Blake Industries.
Damian stood in the middle of it, his phone vibrating endlessly in his hand. Every message, every call carried the same words:
> Have you seen the news?
She looks exactly like your wife.
Is this some kind of joke?
He threw the phone onto his desk and turned toward the massive television on the wall. Aria’s face filled the screen.
Aria Laurent — cold, confident, beautiful.
The same face he’d kissed a thousand times in another life.
“Turn it off,” he barked.
His assistant, visibly uneasy, obeyed. “Sir, the investors are calling. They want reassurance that the rumors won’t affect the partnership—”
“Rumors?” Damian’s voice was sharp, dangerous. “They’re not rumors. They’re—”
He stopped himself. Because he didn’t even know what they were anymore.
Could it be her?
Could she truly have survived that crash and stayed away all these years?
If so, why?
He raked his hand through his hair. Logic screamed that it couldn’t be possible. But his heart — traitorous and relentless — whispered the truth he refused to face.
It was her.
And now the world knew it too.
---
By afternoon, reporters had gathered outside both corporate buildings — Laurent Enterprises and Blake Industries. Microphones, cameras, and flashing bulbs created a frenzy that no amount of security could contain.
The city buzzed with theories, old photographs, and comparisons.
“Same scar under the left eye.”
“Same wedding necklace.”
“She vanished five years ago after a car accident — and now she’s back as a CEO?”
The whispers became shouts, the curiosity became hysteria.
And in the middle of it all, Damian couldn’t stay away.
---
Scene – The Press Conference
Laurent Enterprises had scheduled a brief media appearance. Aria had no choice but to step forward.
She stood at the podium, perfectly poised in an ivory suit that shimmered under the flash of a hundred cameras. Her long hair fell loosely over her shoulders, her makeup immaculate — controlled, professional, untouchable.
“Miss Laurent!”
“Are you Mrs. Aria Blake?”
“Did you fake your death?”
“Were you involved with Damian Blake before?”
Questions flew like arrows, but Aria didn’t flinch. She offered the kind of smile only someone who had mastered pain could give — calm, composed, infuriatingly mysterious.
“Good afternoon,” she began, her voice carrying through the chaos like a gentle storm. “I understand the curiosity surrounding my background, but I assure you, my life is exactly as I’ve chosen it to be. I am Aria Laurent, CEO of Laurent Enterprises. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“But your resemblance—”
“Coincidences happen,” she cut in smoothly. “Now, if there are no further business-related questions, this conference is over.”
And with that, she turned, walking away as flashes exploded behind her like fireworks.
To the world, it looked like power.
But inside, her pulse raced. Because she could feel it — that piercing gaze from across the crowd.
Damian was there.
Watching.
---
He hadn’t planned to attend.
But the moment he saw the news alert, he’d driven straight to the building, ignoring his team’s protests.
And there she was.
Standing before the world like she had never vanished, like she hadn’t once promised him forever.
Every word she said, every look she gave — calculated. Controlled.
But he knew her.
He could see through the polished mask.
He could see the faint tremor in her fingers when she held the microphone, the way her eyes briefly clouded when someone mentioned death.
She was lying.
And that lie lit something dangerous inside him.
As the press dispersed, he followed her. Through the corridor, past the security guards who knew better than to stop him.
When she turned, their eyes met.
It was only for a moment — a heartbeat, a breath — but it was enough.
“Mr. Blake,” she greeted evenly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He stepped closer, his voice low, taut. “You lied.”
“I think you’re mistaken.”
“Am I?” he asked, his jaw tight. “Because I buried you. I watched your car burn. And now you stand here, calling yourself someone else. What kind of game are you playing, Aria?”
Her lips curved faintly. “I’m not playing anything. Perhaps grief made you see what you wanted to see.”
The words were calm — but her eyes betrayed her.
He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Say that again. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not her.”
Aria’s heart raced, but she didn’t let it show. “I don’t know who you think I am, Mr. Blake,” she said softly. “But I suggest you move on. The dead don’t come back.”
And with that, she walked away.
He stood frozen, fury and disbelief swirling inside him.
The dead don’t come back.
Then why did it feel like his heart had just started beating again?
---
Later That Evening – Aria’s Apartment
The sound of the television filled the quiet room. News anchors replayed the conference, analysts speculated endlessly, and photos of her — side by side with the late Mrs. Blake — filled the screen.
Aria sat on the couch, her son curled up against her side.
“Mommy, why are there cameras outside?” Roland asked sleepily. His voice was soft, innocent — too pure for the chaos surrounding her life.
She stroked his hair gently. “They’re just people who like stories, baby.”
He yawned. “They said your name on TV.”
She smiled faintly. “I know. But don’t worry about that, okay? Just focus on your homework tomorrow.”
He nodded and drifted back to sleep, clutching his toy car.
Aria watched him, her heart aching with a mixture of love and fear. He was the only thing that mattered. The only reason she’d survived.
No one — not even Damian — could know about him.
Because the truth, once revealed, would destroy everything.
---
Back in his penthouse, Damian sat in the dark, replaying the press footage over and over.
Every word, every flicker of emotion on her face.
He could feel it now — she wasn’t gone. She was hiding something.
But why?
And why had she come back as Laurent — the one person powerful enough to threaten everything he’d built?
The thought gnawed at him until anger replaced confusion.
If this was revenge, he’d meet her head-on.
If it was fate, he’d fight it.
Because one thing was certain — he couldn’t let her win.
Not again.
He picked up his phone, dialing a number.
“Find out everything about Aria Laurent,” he said. “Where she’s been, who she knows, where she lives — everything.”
He hung up before the response came.
Outside, lightning flashed across the night sky — a silent echo of the storm to come.
---
When she finally lay in bed that night, sleep didn’t come.
Her mind replayed the look in his eyes — disbelief, pain, and something she didn’t want to name.
She had built her armor perfectly.
She had promised herself she wouldn’t feel anything when she faced him.
But one look from him, and the old wounds began to bleed again.
Aria closed her eyes, whispering to the darkness, “I can’t fall again. Not this time.”
Yet deep inside, she knew the truth she couldn’t admit —
The past wasn’t finished with them.
Not yet.
- Writer
