She swayed weakly, and Arnold rushed to steady her. The two of them put on quite the performance of devoted love.
The room erupted in murmurs.
It was a masterful move—admitting fault while hiding behind her ditzy persona, all while showing off their relationship.
My father raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
Stacy froze. "I'm Stacy... your daughter..."
Arnold went rigid. "Chairman, you don't recognize Stacy?"
My father's expression turned icy.
"Why should I? She's a receptionist who got in through connections. She tampered with critical company files, caused a fifty-million-dollar loss, and spread malicious rumors about a colleague." His voice cut through the silence. "That takes some nerve."
Arnold's face drained of color.
"Stacy Pruitt... isn't your daughter?"
With trembling hands, he pulled out the family photo Stacy had shown him.
My father took it, glanced at it once, and tore it to pieces.
"Nice Photoshop work. But my daughter's name isn't Stacy Pruitt."
His gaze shifted to me.
I rose from my seat, smoothed down my blazer, and walked up to the stage to stand beside him.
"Her name is Anita Fox." My father took my hand, his voice resonating through the room. "The sole heir to Fox Group. Three months ago, I sent her to work at the ground level to gain experience—and to test a certain toad who thought he could eat swan meat."
Every last trace of color vanished from Arnold's face.
He looked at me, trembling, his lips quivering:
"Anita, you..."
I smiled faintly, leaned in, and whispered in his ear:
"Arnold, you bet on the wrong horse."
"For Stacy's sake, you stepped on me, humiliated me, destroyed my reputation, and even framed me for that fifty-million-dollar loss."
"It's time we settled this score."
