Chapter 406

The revelation struck like lightning, plunging the crowd into stunned silence.

"Seraphina." Her brothers exchanged uneasy glances.

They never expected Seraphina, who had always treated her failed marriage as a forbidden topic, to openly admit—right in front of the flashing cameras—that she and Nathaniel had once been married.

Fearless. Unapologetic.

Once, she had seen their divorce as a stain on her life, something too painful to acknowledge.

But now, she had shed that weight.

She and Nathaniel had simply met at the wrong time.

Yet fate had brought them back together.

The next moment, the media frenzy erupted. Cameras flashed relentlessly, drowning them in blinding light. Nathaniel immediately stepped in front of Seraphina, shielding her from the invasive glare.

"Ms. Seraphina! Is it true you and Mr. Nathaniel were once married?"

"Was it a secret wedding? When did you divorce? Do you have children?"

"Why did the marriage end? Was it because of Cassandra’s interference? Was there infidelity?"

The reporters hurled questions like daggers, each sharper than the last.

"Yes, we divorced. But Seraphina did nothing wrong. The fault was entirely mine."

Nathaniel’s chest ached as he prepared to shoulder the blame, but Seraphina suddenly tightened her grip on his hand.

He met her unwavering gaze.

"You don’t owe them an explanation," she murmured, her voice low and rough near his ear. "It’s in the past. I don’t need your justification, and I never want to hear that name again."

Nathaniel’s throat tightened, the pain unbearable.

Her resentment would have been easier to bear than this quiet understanding.

"As for the reason Nathaniel and I divorced, that’s private," Seraphina stated coolly, then turned her piercing gaze back to Eleanor and her daughter. "I’m telling you this to prove my accusations aren’t baseless. I witnessed Eleanor and Giselle’s cruelty firsthand. Don’t let their masks fool you. Focus on the victims."

Her words rang with conviction.

"I believe every journalist here entered this field to seek truth—to expose injustice and give voice to the voiceless. There are countless shadows in this world where light doesn’t reach. If even the media won’t speak for them, who will?"

Her impassioned speech silenced the room.

These reporters had once been idealists, driven by purpose.

But Elmsworth’s media landscape was controlled by corporate interests, stifling truth. The era of viral gossip had lured them toward sensationalism—celebrity scandals, billionaire drama—anything for clicks.

Heroes were forgotten, while tabloid fodder thrived.

Then, one journalist bravely turned the mic on Eleanor. "Mrs. Eleanor, is it true, as Ms. Seraphina claims, that you abused your staff? Did Erica suffer unjust treatment before her death?"

Eleanor stiffened.

She hadn’t expected the media she’d invited to turn against her.

Nathaniel squeezed Seraphina’s hand.

"You’re incredible," he murmured. "Far stronger than I’ll ever be. I don’t deserve you."

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "For thirteen years, you followed me. For the rest of our lives, let me follow you."

Seraphina’s pulse skipped. Her fingers curled around his.

Other reporters joined the interrogation, surrounding Eleanor and Giselle.

The mother-daughter duo broke into cold sweats, stammering denials. "No! That’s not true! Don’t listen to her lies!"

"Mrs. Eleanor, what do you have to say for yourself now?"

A familiar voice cut through the chaos—fierce, righteous.

Seraphina and Nathaniel turned sharply.

It was Althea.

"Althea!"

"Mrs. Sinclair, Mr. Nathaniel."

Althea approached, her eyes red-rimmed. "I’m sorry. I came against your wishes. But Erica was like a daughter to me. I couldn’t stay away."

Nathaniel sighed. "We should’ve told you."

Seraphina pulled Althea into a wordless embrace.

After a moment, Althea glared at Eleanor, venom in her voice. "Every word Ms. Seraphina said is true. Not just Erica—countless Abernathy staff have suffered under Eleanor’s abuse. I’ve worked here thirty years. I know things even Ms. Seraphina doesn’t. I swear on my life, she hasn’t lied."

"Althea, have you lost your mind?" Eleanor shrieked. "After all we’ve done for you!"

Althea scoffed. "The only kindness I received came from Mr. Nathaniel and Miss Seraphina. Not you."

The crowd buzzed—a maid publicly defying a socialite.

"This is disgraceful," one reporter muttered. "Funerals should be private, especially for tragic deaths. The fact that Ms. Seraphina and Mr. Nathaniel kept this quiet proves their respect for the dead."

"Unlike Eleanor, who craves the spotlight."

"Exploiting the deceased for publicity—how vile."

Cornered, Eleanor clutched her chest dramatically. "You’re twisting my words!"

She pointed a trembling finger at Seraphina. "When you were married to Nathaniel, we clashed. But that’s in the past! Why can’t you let go?"

Seraphina’s expression turned glacial.

Nathaniel’s jaw clenched, a vein throbbing at his temple.

Eleanor’s voice dripped venom. "You knew Nathaniel loved Cassandra. You forced your way into their lives! Of course the marriage failed. And now you blame me?"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Was Eleanor the victim here?

Seraphina’s brothers seethed. Even Elias, lurking in the shadows, fingered a poison needle, ready to silence Eleanor permanently.

"We should eject these reporters," Adrian growled.

Cassius stopped him. "Too late. Some are live-streaming. If we act now, we’ll look guilty."

Eleanor had set a trap.

Nathaniel stepped forward, his voice icy. "You were never my mother. Seraphina endured your abuse for three years—yet she still treated you with respect. Why omit that?"

Seraphina’s nails dug into her palms, old wounds reopening.

Nathaniel squeezed her hand, his grip firm. "And Seraphina married me out of love. Is that a crime? The fault was mine—for not seeing Cassandra’s true nature, for hurting Seraphina, for failing to realize I’d fallen for her."

The cameras went wild.

The CEO of Sinclair Holdings had just admitted to infidelity—to protect his ex-wife.

Eleanor paled. Giselle gaped.

They’d underestimated Nathaniel’s love.

He’d rather shatter himself than let her bear a single scar.

Seraphina’s lips trembled. His unwavering defense moved her more than any confession.

"This is the last time I’ll say this," Nathaniel declared, his gaze sweeping the crowd. "Our divorce was my fault. If any media outlet slanders Seraphina, I will destroy them."

His words reverberated like thunder.

Eleanor and Giselle shrank back.

Adrian smirked. "Damn. Respect."

Cassius and Adrian nodded in approval.

Elias exhaled smoke, amused. "Finally acting like a man."

Then, a reporter dared to ask, "Mr. Nathaniel, if you’re divorced, why do you still protect her? Do you still have feelings for Ms. Seraphina?"

Nathaniel’s eyes burned. "Once, she was my wife. Now, I’m hers."

Their gazes locked, tears unshed.