Chapter 229

Philip's POV

The glass doors of the police station closed behind me with a soft hiss as the frigid night air of New York cut across my face like a knife. I instinctively pulled my suit jacket tighter around my body, but the chill I felt wasn't just from the wind. That square, imposing building-a place I'd never imagined I would set foot in-had just delivered the most profound humiliation of my life.

I stood on the steps. looking up at the sky. Those brilliant lights had once been a source of pride, a reminder that a corner of this magnificent city belonged to Philip Baker. Now, they were merely indifferent spectators,silently watching my fall from grace.

My phone vibrated relentlessly in my pocket. I pulled it out-nearly a hundred missed calls. My stomach tightened. This feeling was so foreign.I used to be the one who made others wait for my calls,the one who could ignore messages because I was Philip Baker, and I had that privilege.

And now...

The phone vibrated again, and the name flashing on the screen made my heart skip a beat-Winston from the board of directors. Holding my breath,I answered.

"Philip," his voice was like ice, "you need to explain what the hell is going on!"

My tongue suddenly felt clumsy, though my mind was unnervingly clear.He wasn't concerned about my arrest; he was worried about something else entirely.

"What do I need to explain?" My voice sounded calm, not at all like someone who had just been released on bail. This calmness, I knew,was merely the quiet before the storm.

Winston's brief silence told me he hadn't expected me to beso uninformed."Check the news online first."

The cool New York street air suddenly felt even more biting. I leaned against a streetlight, my fingertips trembling slightly as I opened my browser. Each headline hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest:

*"Wall Street Investment Mogul Philip Baker Assaults Five-Year-Old Son"*

*"Baker Investment Group CEO Arrested for Domestic Violence, Stock Expected to Plummet"*

*"Security Footage Shows Baker Knocking Boy to the Floor"*

*"Medical Reports Confirm: Baker's Son Suffers Eardrum Damage"*

My heartbeat nearly stopped. The video was spreading like wildfire across social media, my face clearly visible in every frame. That moment I thought was private, that instant when anger overrode reason, had now become my gallows.

"I hit him because he was being vicious!" The fire in my chest reignited,and I practically shouted these words. "He tried to convince Sarah to abort our child!"

"You mean, a five-year-old child?" Winston's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You believe an adult woman was persuaded by a kindergartner to do something like that?"

My defense withered under his questioning, suddenly sounding hollow

and pathetic. Sweat trickled slowly down my back.

"Since you know about this, you shouldn't be taking Brian's side!" I gripped the phone so tightly my nails nearly dug into my palm.Why couldn't anyone understand my position?

"Brian has provided evidence proving he never did any such thing,"Winston's voice was calm yet severe. "He doesn't have a watch phone,and his regular phone was only recently given to him and kept locked away.He had no opportunity to contact Sarah, let alone tell her those things."

Each word struck like a hammer, pounding at my consciousness. My lips trembled slightly. This couldn't be possible. Sarah wouldn't lie to me, at least not about something like this... Right?

"You'd better find a way to resolve this quickly, or we won't be able to protect you!"

The call ended, but Winston's warning continued to echo in my ears.I looked up at the sky, feeling dizzy. Overnight, my empire had begun to crumble. After the markets opened tomorrow, Philip Investment Group's stock would plummet like a kite with a broken string. Those newspapers that once called me an "investment genius"-what words would they use to describe me now?

I dragged my heavy steps toward the parking lot. My brain was buzzing yet strangely clear. This wasn't just a PR crisis; it was the collapse of my entire career, perhaps even my life.

Sitting in my car, the yellow streetlight cast across the windshield,outlining my haggard silhouette. I stared at that unfamiliar version of myself,suddenly realizing how quickly it had all happened, how completely unprepared I'd been. Like a meticulously designed trap that I

had walked right into.

Who? Who had orchestrated all this?

The answer materialized in my mind with ominous certainty-Brian. That quiet five-year-old boy, the child I thought would only hide in corners,could he really be capable of this?

With trembling fingers, I dialed Brian's number. Each ring was like a heartbeat, a reminder of how unstable I felt at this moment.

"Hello?" Brian's voice was remarkably calm, not at all like a five-year-old child, but more like an adult who knew they already had the upper hand.

"Are you satisfied now that you've created this mess?" I practically forced these words through gritted teeth, my suppressed rage making my voice low and dangerous.

"I don't know what you're talking about." On the other end, Brian's tone was infuriatingly calm, without a hint of fear or remorse.

That composure stung my nerves. My five-year-old son, my own flesh and blood-why would he speak to me in such a manner? What had he experienced to become like this?

"From the beginning until now, haven't you been the one causing trouble?"he asked unhurriedly, his voice carrying a barely perceptible mockery.

I took a deep breath, trying to control my emotions. Facing a five-year-old child, I shouldn't feel so powerless and angry, but at this moment, Brian seemed more formidable than any adult adversary.

"That may be true," I slowed my speech, attempting to regain control, "but do you realize how much my company's stock will drop tomorrow because

of your impulsive actions? When that happens, even if I wanted to leave you more inheritance, I wouldn't have the money."

The brief silence on the other end made me think my words had had an effect. Blood ties are blood ties, and interests are interests. How could a child not care about future wealth?

But soon. Brian's voice returned, carrying a coldness I had never heard before: "I'm not your child, so why would you give me your money?"

My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. These words were more damaging than any physical blow. My breathing became rapid,my chest feeling as if it bore the weight of a thousand pounds. Brian had never rejected me like this before, so thoroughly, so decisively.

"Daddy."

Just as I was about to hang up, Brian suddenly changed his tone. This once-warm term of endearment now sent a chill through my body.

"Are you happy with the gift I sent you?"

Gift? My brain raced, suddenly remembering what Brian had said as I was leaving his home: "I've prepared a gift for you. I hope you'll like it."

A wave of cold dread shot up from my spine to the top of my head. From the moment I left, he had already planned all this? A five-year-old child,able to meticulously orchestrate such revenge? My hands involuntarily trembled as I suddenly realized I wasn't facing just a capricious child, but an opponent far more complex than I had imagined.

"You've created such an ugly situation-aren't you afraid I'll tell your mother?" I desperately searched for one last card to play, though the words sounded pathetically weak even to my own ears.

Brian let out a scornful laugh, the maturity in that laughter making my skin crawl. "How old are you? Still threatening to tattle when things don't go your way? Even if you did, I'm not worried."

He paused before continuing: "After all, when I was close with Sarah, Mom didn't blame me; she blamed you. In her eyes, I'm just a child who doesn't understand anything. If you hadn't deliberately guided me, I wouldn't have approached Sarah on my own. This time, she'll certainly understand my side,too."

The air in the car seemed to solidify. The veins on my hands bulged as I gripped the steering wheel, yet I had no rebuttal. Every word Brian said was like a sword, striking directly at my vulnerabilities. He was right-Annie would never blame Brian; she would only see it as my failure, my inability to protect our son.

"I don't believe it." In the end, these were the only three words I could force out, though deep in my heart, I knew it was the truth.

"Then you can try and see." Brian slowed his speech, his voice carrying a confidence and resolution I had never heardfrom a child before.

"Fine." I answered coldly, then hung up.

The car fell into dead silence. My breathing sounded particularly harsh in this quiet. Outside, New York City was ablaze with lights,but inside, it was dark, just like my mood. I looked at the new messages and comments continuously popping up on my phone screen, each one tearing at my reputation, my career, everything I had.

Just days ago, I had been the envy of Wall Street, an investment icon, a *Financial Times* cover star. Now, I had become a target of public scorn, a villain who hit his own child, a failing investor whose career was all but

over.

The most ironic part was that the person who had pushed me into this abyss was my own son, my own flesh and blood.