Imdiately flashes of caras blinded him instantly. The sound of clicking shutters and overlapping voices hit him all at once. Reporters crowded the front entrance like a pack of wolves, microphones stretched toward him, shouting questions so fast they tangled into chaos.
"Samuel, is it true you’ve been hiding a wife?"
"When did you get married? Do you have children?"
"Why did you abandon them?"
"Did you really assault her?"
"Why have you being keeping this from the public?"
Their voices piled on top of each other, every question sharper than the last.
These were the sa reporters he had planned to face triumphantly after signing his contract. The sa people who were supposed to write headlines about his new deal and his victory over MK and the little news he had for them. But instead, they were here tearing him apart, turning his success into scandal before he could even celebrate.
Samuel’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer a single question.
With the help of security he forced his way through the chaos, ignoring the flashes and the shouts, and headed straight for his car. His driver swung the door open just in ti for him to shove himself inside.
The door slamd shut, cutting off the noise outside, but the silence inside the car was worse. His breath was uneven, heavy with frustration. As the car pulled away from the curb, Samuel’s anger exploded.
He struck the back of the passenger seat with his fist, once, twice, three tis, his knuckles stinging with every hit. "Damn it!" he shouted, his voice cracking with pure rage. He slamd the seat again, his chest rising and falling as the car sped away from the chaos behind him.
At that mont, inside the car, the silence was so thick it felt heavy in the air. Samuel’s breathing was still rough from the anger he unleashed monts ago, his knuckles sore from pounding the seat. His eyes stared straight ahead, but his mind was spinning.
Beside him, his manager scrolled through her phone, her face pale, hands trembling slightly as notification after notification popped up. The look on her face alone was enough to tell him sothing was very wrong.
"This is bad, Samuel," she said finally, her voice low and horrid, almost shaking. "Really bad."
Then Samuel turned to her sharply. "What do you an bad?"
She swallowed hard, gripping her phone tighter. "From the news that’s spreading... it’s worse than we thought. Four sponsorship agencies four of them have already sent in cancellation requests. They don’t want their nas attached to you anymore, even five of your ambassadorial deals are gone."
Samuel blinked, stunned. "Four? Already?"
"That’s not even all," she continued, her voice breaking slightly. "More agencies are sending notices as we speak. Every minute, I’m getting another ssage. And..." She hesitated, as if saying it would make it real. "The TV program you’ve been hosting... they’ve dropped you. You’re no longer one of the hosts."
For a mont, Samuel said nothing. His jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. He turned his face toward the window, watching the city rush by as if it could give him an answer.
"How?" His voice was low, raw with disbelief. "How did this even get out?" He shook his head, almost talking to himself. "This was secret. No one knew about my wife. No one knew about my daughter. No one."
His hand ran through his hair, gripping it in frustration. "The only people who knew were you... and my other manager. And I know neither of you would do this to ."
At that mont he turned to face her, his eyes narrowing. "Then who? If it wasn’t you... who?"
At that mont in ti, the car’s silence was broken only by the constant vibration of the manager’s phone. Every buzz carried bad news, and each new notification seed to drain what little color was left in her face. She scrolled quickly, her thumb trembling as she spoke, her words coming out rushed and horrid.
"It’s really bad now," she muttered, almost in disbelief. "More than five movie roles, the ones you were already booked for they’ve all sent in cancellations." She swallowed, glancing at Samuel but seeing no change in his stiff posture. "Every single one of them. You’ve been removed as the lead actor. They don’t want you anymore."
Hearing what she just said Samuel turned his head sharply toward her, his jaw tight. "What are you saying?"
She held up the phone as if to prove it. "Every ti I refresh my inbox, five new emails co in. All of them are cancellations. One after another. Even the roles you already started filming they’ve dropped you too. Just because of this scandal." Her voice cracked on the last word.
The words hung in the air, heavier than anything Samuel had heard all day.
"And if this continues..." she went on, her tone grim, "...then this will be one of the greatest drop-offs of all ti. Your na will go from a hundred to zero, just like that. In less than a day."
Then her voice lowered, almost a whisper now. "What’s going on, Samuel? How are we supposed to fix this? How do we even begin to resolve sothing like this?"
At that mont Samuel’s chest rose and fell sharply. His fists tightened against his knees, knuckles white. Anger simred in him, hotter than before, and this ti it felt personal.
There was only one na in his mind. One person who had the reach, the spite, and the motive to destroy him this completely.
Cora, It had to be Cora.
At that mont, Samuel sat back in the seat, his mind racing as the city lights blurred past the window. Every muscle in his body was tense, his jaw locked so tightly it hurt. He knew there were only two ways to pull himself out of this ss, and neither of them would be clean.
The first way the one burning hotter in his chest, was to shut Cora down completely. Not just silence her, but destroy her. Tear apart everything she had built and make sure she never stood up again. She was the only one who could pull strings like this, the only one bold enough to leak sothing so private and ti it perfectly to ruin him. If she wanted war, he would give her war.
The second way was simpler, dirtier, but effective. He could go to the woman who called herself his wife the sa woman who refused to keep her mouth shut and dragged his na into the mud. She had done this before. She had taken his money before. And if he bribed her again with the usual amount, she would fold. She always did.
All she had to do was hold a press conference, say she lied, say Cora paid her to fabricate everything. The public would turn on Cora instantly, and Samuel knew his na would be cleared. His sponsors would crawl back. His career would stay intact.
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