Bound By Business

Chapter seven: The Scandal unfold

The morning after the leaked video surfaced, the Moretti estate felt like it was teetering on the edge of a cliff. The silence over breakfast was deafening. Even the clinking of silverware seemed too loud against the tension crackling through the dining room. Marco sat at the head of the table, his expression carved from stone. Across from him, Alex lounged in his chair, but his usual carefree demeanor was nowhere to be seen.

I sat quietly beside Marco, trying to gauge how Alex planned to handle the storm. He hadn’t said much since I confronted him with the video the night before, but his silence only made the situation worse.

“You’ve managed to create another masterpiece of humiliation,” Marco said finally, his voice as cold as the steel knife in his hand.

Alex met his father’s glare without flinching. “It’s a hit piece. Anyone with half a brain can see that,” he said.

“That might fly on social media, but this isn’t your little influencer world, Alex. This is the company—my company. And your recklessness just gave every investor in this city a reason to walk away.”

“Enough.” My voice cut through the argument like a whip. Both men turned to me, their glares nearly matching.

“We don’t have time for this,” I said, meeting Marco’s gaze first. “You can berate Alex later. Right now, we need a plan to control this narrative before it spirals out of our hands.”

“And you think he’s capable of sticking to any plan?” Marco spat, gesturing sharply at Alex.

“Hey,” Alex shot back, leaning forward, “how about instead of yelling, you tell me what you actually want me to do?”

I pushed my chair back, standing to grab the folder I had prepared the night before. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said, dropping it on the table with a thud.

Marco raised an eyebrow, and Alex tilted his head with faint amusement as I continued.

We gathered in the Moretti boardroom an hour later. The team was small but efficient—myself, Marco, Alex, and the company’s PR head, Laura Mancini.

Laura started the meeting, her usually calm tone edged with frustration. “The video has already gained traction across several media outlets,” she said, tapping her tablet. “It’s trending under every possible hashtag tied to Alex’s name, and the engagement numbers are through the roof. We’re already seeing significant chatter from investors.”

“Define significant,” Marco said sharply.

“Significant enough that several are requesting emergency meetings,” Laura replied, unfazed.

Alex sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples. I could see the weight of the situation finally pressing on him, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

“Do we know who leaked it?” I asked, keeping my tone firm.

Laura hesitated. “We’re still investigating, but the way the video was edited—it’s clearly designed to discredit Alex and, by extension, the company.”

“That much is obvious,” Marco growled.

Alex suddenly sat forward, his expression hardening. “It’s fake,” he said.

“What?” I asked, startled by the certainty in his voice.

“The footage is real,” he admitted, his tone sharp, “but it’s been spliced together to make it look worse than it was. That night… nothing happened.”

“Care to elaborate?” I asked coolly.

He exhaled heavily, his fingers raking through his hair. “It was from a private party months ago. Someone must have had their phone out. I talked to her—Mia—but that’s it. No hookups, no scandal.”

I crossed my arms, trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth. “If that’s true, why haven’t we heard from this ‘Mia’ yet? Why hasn’t she defended you publicly?”

Alex hesitated, then muttered, “She’s in Paris. I haven’t spoken to her since the party.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Unbelievable.”

While Alex fumbled to regain control of his personal narrative, I focused on the bigger picture. The more I thought about the timing of the leak, the clearer it became that this wasn’t random. It felt too precise, too intentional.

Late that afternoon, I called Laura into my office. “Do we have anything concrete on the leak yet?”

Laura shook her head, her frustration evident. “Not yet. Whoever leaked it covered their tracks well, but we’re seeing signs it came from someone with access to Moretti files.”

My stomach twisted. “Internal?”

“It’s possible,” she said. “Or someone who knows how the company operates.”

My mind immediately went to Marcus Carter. He had been quiet for years, but his ability to exploit weaknesses in Marco’s empire was legendary. Could he have resurfaced now, using Alex’s recklessness to strike a blow?

Later that evening, I found Alex in his penthouse, nursing a drink by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city skyline glittered behind him, a stark contrast to the storm raging in the media.

“You’re going to run out of places to hide,” I said, stepping into the room.

He turned to me, his expression unreadable. “And you’re going to run out of ways to lecture me.”

I walked toward him, my heels clicking against the polished floor. “This isn’t a lecture, Alex. It’s reality. If you don’t take control of this now, it’ll destroy everything.”

He set the glass down, his movements slow and deliberate. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Sometimes I wonder,” I said, crossing my arms.

Alex let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You think this is all my fault, don’t you? That I asked for this mess.”

“I think you made it easy for someone to use you,” I said evenly.

The silence between us stretched, the tension crackling like static electricity.

“What do you want me to do, Sophia?” Alex asked finally, his voice raw. “You’ve already decided I’m a screw-up. Why don’t you just tell me how to fix it?”

I stepped closer, meeting his gaze head-on. “Stop making excuses. Start acting like the man this company needs you to be.”

For a moment, something unspoken passed between us, the weight of his frustration and my exasperation mixing into a volatile cocktail.

“I’m trying,” Alex said quietly.

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard, but before I could respond, he turned back to the window, shutting me out once again.