Ten Years of Regret Chapter 06
The press conference was on Wednesday.
The same day as Montgomery Group’s new product launch.
Of course, businessmen only care about money. Even now, they’d milk the drama for all it was worth.
I showed up at the venue in a black trench coat.
The reporters from every major outlet the Montgomerys had invited swarmed in.
Chase and Ivy stood off to the side.
When he saw I could barely move through the crowd, Chase rushed over and wrapped himself around me.
I tried to push him off, but he just held tighter. “So many people. Watch the baby.”
The camera flashes blinded me. I stopped struggling.
Inside, the reporters were much more orderly.
Ivy gave me a smug, confident smile.
I just smirked.
Let’s see if you’re still smiling later.
“Miss Bennett, the minute Miss Dawson went abroad, you drugged Mr. Montgomery and crawled into his bed. How could you do something so vile?”
“We heard the baby is actually IVF with stolen sperm from Mr. Montgomery. Who taught you that trick?”
Two reporters stood up first, their questions sharp and nasty.
Beside me, Chase’s face went cold. “Who told you to ask that?”
I shot him a glance. One word came to mind: hypocrite.
He’s the head of a major group. There’s no way he didn’t know what I’d be walking into at this press conference.
I ignored his confused, almost regretful look.
I looked straight at the two reporters. “Since you’re friends with Ivy Dawson, I completely understand the kind of class you two just showed.”
Their eyes flickered with guilt. They muttered, “Don’t make false accusations.”
But under my steady gaze, they bit their lips and finally shut up.
Because their connections to Ivy wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny.
Not with this many cameras rolling.
Ivy saw that Chase wasn’t leaving my side. She swayed.
Chase jumped up and went to steady her. “You okay? Heart again?”
As soon as he left, I was alone on stage.
He felt my eyes on him and belatedly tried to pull away from Ivy. But she grabbed his arm. “Chase, my chest feels so tight.”
His face twisted with conflict. In the end, he stayed by her side.
I looked away calmly.
The rest of the questions were just as ugly. Mistress, homewrecker, gold digger, slut… all of it.
When they finally ran out of steam, I stood up, raised the microphone, and smiled.
I opened my bag and flung hundreds of photos into the air.
“Who the real mistress is. I think you can all judge for yourselves.”
A few photos landed near Ivy.
One look, and her innocent, fragile mask shattered.