Chapter 8 Poisoned Whispers

CHAPTER 8

The next morning, breakfast was quiet – forks clinking, no words spoken. Lisa pushed back her chair, ready to leave for work. Just as she passed him, Joseph's hand shot out, firm around her wrist.

"It's too short, go change", he said in that commanding tone that left no room for debate. His gaze swept over her dress like a verdict.

Her breath hitched, her body betraying her with a rush of heat she despised. She hated how authoritative he was – hated even more how it made her pulse quicken.

She tore her hand free and walked out without a word.

****

The car barely pulled up to the company gates when her phone buzzed. A new message from the same unknown number

"Enjoy the headlines. It's only the beginning".

Her chest tightened.

Stepping inside the building, she left it instantly – eyes on her, whispers trailing in her wake.

Employees didn't even try to hide their smirks.

Some clutched folded tabloids; others scrolled their phones, shaking their heads as though the proof of her shame was plastered everywhere.

Lisa lifted her chin higher, refusing to let them see the sting. But with every mocking glance, she knew – someone was orchestrating her downfall, and the attack had only begun.

Her secretary hurried up face pale, clutching a bundle of tabloids. "Mrs. Bronson...you should see this".

She took them, her fingers tightening as her eyes caught the bold headline:

"Heiress on the Run: From Hidden Identity to Sham Marriage".

Her chest squeezed, the words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. Photos filled the pages – grainy shots of her shielding herself under Joseph's coat, twisted into proof of weakness.

For a heartbeat, her vision blurred, betrayal and humiliation burning through her veins.

Then she drew a sharp breath straightening, snapping the paper shut. She handed it back to the secretary, her face a mask of calm set.

They want to see me broken", Mrs. Bronson said, her voice quiet but firm.

Lisa stopped, heels slicing against the marble, and turned slowly to face the cluster of employees watching her like scavengers.

Her eyes were cold, her voice firm enough to cut through the air.

"If you want to keep your jobs, you'll remember one thing – this company carries my name. Mock me again, and I'll make sure you're packing boxes by morning".

The smirks vanished. A hush fell, the weight of her authority crashing down.

She let the silence linger, her gaze sweeping over each face until they dropped their eyes.

Then, with her chin high, she strode forward, the tabloids tucked under her arm like they'd never mattered.

In her office....

Lisa's pen scratched furiously across the documents, her desk littered with reports. She barely looked up when the office door clicked open.

"I'll admit", her father's voice carried a quiet weight, "I didn't think you'd actually take up the mantle".

Lisa froze, her hand tightening around the pen. "You mean....you thought I'd fail before I even started?"

Mr. Morgan stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over the organized chaos of her work.

"I gave you those conditions not to punish you, but to test you. To see if you were truly ready. And I'll confess – I thought you'd walk away, just like before".

Her chest tightened, "But I didn't".

"No". a smile flickered across his lips, pride softening his features. "You came back stronger. You're proving me wrong with every step you take. And Lisa.... I couldn't be more prouder of that".

It was her first time hearing her father say such words, and it sent a warmth through her heart that no victory in the boardroom ever could.

Then his tone shifted, firm but tender.

"Remember this, Lisa – strength attracts enemies. And when the weight feels too heavy, lean on your husband. And if you ever need me, you just need to call.

With this, he left.

She nodded faintly at her father's words, but inside, her chest tightened. Lean on my husband? How could she, when every sign pointed to him still being tangled with her stepmother?

The confession pressed against her lips – she wanted to tell her father, to spill the suspicion clawing at her heart. But something held her back.

Maybe it was pride. Maybe fear. Maybe the part of her that still didn't want to believe it was true.

She knew what their marriage was – a contract, nothing more. He had nothing for her, not truly.

And yet...against her own will, she craved it. His care. His attention. The kind of protection he gave so easily in public, but never in the quiet moments meant just for them.

That unspoken longing gnawed at her, and as her father left the office, Lisa was left alone with the silence – caught between truth and the dangerous hope she refused to admit.

Mrs. Bronson", the voice broke the silence, almost breathless, "thank you for approving the Thompson project. The team's morale has completely lifted".

A genuine smile tugged at Lisa's lips. "You all worked hard for it. Just make sure the deadlines are met – I don't want the effort wasted".

The young assistant nodded, eyes shining. "We'll make you proud".

Lisa chuckled softly, a rare moment of peace washing over her. For a brief second, she allowed herself to feel like she belonged here – not just as the only heiress to her father's company or Mrs. Bronson but as someone making a difference.

She straightened, smoothing her blazer and starting toward the lobby, unaware that outside, chaos was already waiting to greet her.

The lobby froze when the journalist broke through security, recorder already raised. His voice rang out, sharp and eager.

"Mrs. Bronson! Care to explain why you lived under a hidden identity for years?"

Lisa's steps faltered.

The journalist pressed on, relentless. "Were you running from responsibility? Did Joseph Bronson know he wasn't the first to hold your ring?" the journalist sneered. "Or is this another secret you planned to bury forever?

Every accusation pressed on her chest like iron. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but no words came.

"Did you cheat on your ex-husband? What ended the marriage?"

Joseph Bronson strode into the lobby, each step radiating power that made the crows recoil. His eyes pinned the journalist with a chill that froze him in place.

"Mention her name with filth again", Joseph said, his tone steady and merciless, "and I'll erase your career so completely you'll beg to vanish like the past you're chasing".

The journalist shrank back, silenced. But before relief could settle, slow, deliberate clapping echoed from the far end of the lobby.

Dane Carter.

He stepped forward, smile curving his lips, his gaze fixed on Lisa, "Still as dramatic as ever, darling. Hiding behind a stronger man suits you".

Lisa's blood ran cold.

In a flash, Joseph's hand fisted Dane's shirt, dragging him close, their faces inches apart. His voice dropped to a deadly whisper that carried through the silent lobby.

"Try that again", Joseph warned, eyes burning, "and I'll bury you".