Chapter 258: Turbulence

Chapter 258: Chapter 258: Turbulence

By the time the Bombardier Global 7500 began its descent toward Geneva Airport, the afternoon sky over Switzerland was a blanket of dark velvet overcast. Below, the glittering lights of the city bounced off the still waters of Lake Geneva, creating a stark contrast to the storm that had spent the last eight hours consuming the capital back home.

Inside the quiet main lounge, the soft chime of the cabin intercom broke the steady hum of the twin engines.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve initiated our final approach," the pilot’s voice echoed smoothly. "Local time is 1700 sharp. Ground temperature in Geneva is twelve degrees Celsius."

Aliya stretched her arms, yawning softly as she closed her tablet. Beside her, Fancy was staring out the window, her initial paralyzing anxiety finally giving way to tired wonder as the Swiss landscape rushed up to meet them.

"We actually made it," Fancy whispered, adjusting the strap of her cardigan. "I still feel like I’m going to wake up in my dorm room."

"Get ready," Aliya smirked, checking her hair in her phone screen. "The real fun starts after we land."

At the main conference table, Jake adjusted the collar of his charcoal sweater as the landing gear locked into place with a heavy ’thunk’. Opposite him, Noah and Leon were packing away their auction catalogs, arguing in hushed tones over whether a Ferrari F40 LM was worth pushing past twenty million marks.

The jet touched down with barely a shudder, its tires gripping the damp tarmac of Geneva’s VIP terminal before rolling toward a secluded hangar complex where three executive vehicles stood waiting.

As the plane came to a complete stop, the overhead satellite communications link automatically re-established connection.

On the table in front of Jake, his primary secure phone buzzed once. Then twice.

Within five seconds, it began vibrating continuously against the dark polished wood—a relentless barrage of high-priority encrypted pings, missed calls, and automated news alerts. Right beside him, the phones belonging to Adrian, Marcus, Leon, and Noah began ringing almost simultaneously.

Leon frowned, picking up his phone with a snort. "What is going on? Did the market crash in the last few hours or something?"

Jake reached out, swiping his screen open.

Dozens of notification banners flooded the lock screen, dominated by bold, aggressive headlines from The Capital Sentinel and every major digital tabloid in the country:

[THE SECRET CONNECTION BETWEEN JAKE RIVERS AND ELIZABETH ROYS: WHAT ABOUT CATHARINE STONE?]

[DOUBLE LIFE AT THIRTY THOUSAND FEET? GOLDEN INVESTMENTS FOUNDER ACCUSED OF HIGH-SOCIETY PLAY]

[LEAKED SIGHTINGS: RIVERS OBSERVED IN PRIVATE MERIDIAN LOUNGE WITH ROYS HEIRESS]

Below the articles, the comment sections and social media platforms were erupting in chaos:

> @CapitalGossip: "No way Jake Rivers is playing both sides like this! Poor Catharine, she needs to drop him immediately!"

> @TraderMark: "Honestly? The guy is a self-made billionaire trader. If he’s managing a harem of high-society heiresses while moving markets, respect."

> @FinanceBro_99: "Fake news planted by competitors. Jake doesn’t seem like the person to do that!"

> @AureliaSocialite: "If Jake is taking applications for a third option, sign me up. I don’t even mind the harem route."

Jake’s eyes narrowed into dark, icy slits as he skimmed the featured article. The piece was meticulously framed—stitching together candid high-resolution photos from the previous charity gala, restaurant entry logs at the Meridian Crown, and fabricated insider quotes to paint a narrative that Jake was using Catharine Stone as a public front while conducting a covert political and romantic alliance with Elizabeth Roys.

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the cabin.

Noah swallowed hard, looking down at his own screen. "Holy shit... Jake, tell me this is a joke."

"If I had to guess, it’s probably Troy Newman," Adrian said coldly, his voice slicing through the tense cabin like a razor. He was staring at a secondary media analysis feed on his iPad. "Heard rumours that he was gunning for you due to the fifteen percent stake at Newman Enterprise Group. The leak hit the press at precisely 2:45 PM back home—right when we crossed into zero-contact oceanic airspace. It was timed to perfection."

"He must be determined because it’s everywhere," Marcus added, his brow deeply furrowed as he scrolled through financial blogs. "They didn’t just target the gossip sites. If Golden Investments had institutional backers, they’d be rattled by now."

"Then it’s a good thing Golden Investments is a one-man show," Leon added with a laugh. "I don’t know what he hopes to achieve since Golden Investments isn’t listed and the news doesn’t impact its valuation in the least."

Over in the lounge, Aliya noticed the sudden, lethal drop in the room’s atmosphere. She stood up, her phone already buzzing in her hand with messages from her college friends. "Jake? What’s going on? My phone is blowing up with weird news links..."

Jake raised a hand slightly, his voice perfectly level, carrying an eerie, absolute calm. "Aliya, take Fancy and head down to the cars with Kovacs and Sarah. Go straight to the hotel and get ready for the auction. We’ll come pick you up shortly and head to the auction."

He pulled his wallet from his jacket and slid a sleek, unembossed black card across the wooden table toward her.

"Here, buy anything you might need for the auction," Jake said smoothly. "I know you guys will want to dress like you are fairies or something."

Aliya bit her lip, recognizing the dangerous edge in her brother’s voice. She didn’t press. She took the card and grabbed Fancy’s hand—who was looking thoroughly confused and alarmed.

"Let’s go buy an entire mall," Aliya said with a sly grin.

"You shouldn’t be wasting your brother’s money like that, you know," Fancy whispered in a panicked, hushed tone as they followed the security detail down the air-stairs into the waiting executive sedan.

Once the cabin doors sealed again, leaving only Jake, his inner circle, Elias, and Miller, Noah slammed his fist onto the armrest.

"That bastard Troy," Noah growled, his face flushed with anger. "He waited until you were at forty thousand feet so you couldn’t issue an immediate denial! Catharine must be getting swarmed by press hounds right now!"

"How is Catharine?" Leon asked, turning to Jake with genuine concern. "Have you tried calling her?"

Jake looked at his phone screen. There was a single, unread text message from Catharine, sent three hours ago:

[’I know what they are trying to do. It’s probably just another desperate corporate warfare tactic. I haven’t spoken to any reporters, and my roommates are here with me. We are having that sleepover. Don’t let them ruin your trip, love. Call me when you land.’]

A subtle smile of relief touched the corner of Jake’s lips as he read her message. Catharine wasn’t fragile; she knew the corporate battlefield better than most gave her credit for.

Jake stepped away from the conference table, moving toward the quiet master suite at the back of the aircraft. He tapped her contact and brought the phone to his ear.

It rang twice before her soft, soothing voice came through the line. "I was wondering when your flight would touch down."

"Just landed," Jake said softly, the lethal tension in his posture softening into genuine warmth. "How are you holding up?"

Catharine let out a gentle, unbothered laugh on the other end. "A few paparazzi tried camped out near the Zenith gates, but security cleared them off within twenty minutes. My roommates blocked the entertainment channels and brought out junk food. Honestly, Jake, I’m more annoyed by how lazy the framing is than the headline itself."

Jake leaned against the frame of the cabin door, a quiet smirk playing on his face. "I’m sorry you have to deal with the noise while I’m out of the country."

"Don’t be," Catharine replied firmly, her voice steady and full of implicit trust. "I know who you are, Jake, and I know what we have. A trashy tabloid hit-piece isn’t going to change that. Just focus on your auction, enjoy your weekend with Aliya and the guys, and leave the drama behind."

"I’ll handle the media noise the second I get back," Jake assured her, his tone dropping an octave into a low, quiet vow. "And they’ll will pay for dragging your name into it."

"I have no doubt about that," Catharine murmured softly with a smile. "Get some rest, love. Call me before the auction starts."

"Will do. Enjoy the sleepover sweetie."

Jake hung up the phone, sliding it back into his coat pocket as he walked back out into the main cabin.

"She’s fine," Jake said smoothly to the room. "She has seen right through it."

"So what’s the play?" Adrian asked, leaning forward with a dark, calculating expression. "Do we call our media contacts in the capital and squash the publication rights? I can have five legal injunctions served on The Capital Sentinel before morning."

"No," Jake replied quietly, standing up from his chair. His posture was commanding, radiating an oppressive, unyielding authority. "An immediate legal suppression just makes us look defensive. If it’s really Troy, then he built this trap assuming I’d panic, rush back to the capital, and spend my weekend running damage control."

Jake walked toward the cabin door, turning back to face the four heirs of Veyra.

"Troy thinks he backed me into a corner while I’m stuck in Switzerland," Jake said, his eyes burning with a sharp, lethal glint. "Let him think the fire is burning out of control. We go to the auction as planned, we buy whatever we want, and while Troy is celebrating his little headline victory... I’m going to tear his entire financial foundation out from under his feet."

Leon’s furious expression slowly melted into a wide, menacing grin. "Now ’that’ is the Jake Rivers I know. Not the one who’s scared of his little sister."

"Elias," Jake commanded softly as he stepped out onto the Swiss tarmac. "Get Silas Thorne on an encrypted line. Tell him to prepare the trading accounts. Troy wants to play dirty? Let’s make sure he loses everything he owns by next week Friday."

"Richard is probably going to lose it," Leon said as he stood up, buttoning his coat. "He sacrificed ten percent of his equity to protect the Newman Group, and now Troy just threw those efforts out the window."

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