Chapter 104: The Aftermath

When Isobel stepped into the living room, she stopped in her tracks.

Morgan was still there.

The television mounted on the wall was tuned to a twenty-four-hour news channel. Anchors spoke about the latest headlines, their voices filling the otherwise quiet room, but Morgan paid them no attention.

Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the tablet resting in his hand. The soft glow of the screen reflected off his impassive features.

He looked up as soon as he sensed her presence.

"So," he said evenly, "you already knew?."

Isobel lowered her eyes.

"...Yes."

The single word came out barely above a whisper.

She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, trying to keep them from trembling.

"I don’t understand." Her voice quivered despite her efforts to stay composed. "I didn’t do anything wrong. I was only holding the baby..." She swallowed hard. "Why are they slandering me...saying those things about me?"

Her eyes reddened, but she stubbornly blinked back the tears. She refused to cry. Not again.

Morgan studied her for a long moment before setting the tablet aside.

"Come here."

His voice softened almost imperceptibly.

"Sit down."

Isobel walked over obediently and lowered herself onto the sofa opposite him.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Finally, Morgan broke the silence.

"It is Charlotte."

Isobel’s head snapped up.

"Charlotte?"

Disbelief filled her eyes.

"It... it was her?"

Morgan gave a slight nod.

"But..." She frowned in confusion. "Why would she target me?"

"A jealous woman is capable of doing many irrational things."

Isobel stared at him, even more bewildered.

"Jealous?" she repeated. "Why would she be jealous of me?"

She let out a helpless laugh.

"I’m a nobody. She’s beautiful, accomplished... and she’s already Kristof’s fiancée."

Morgan regarded her quietly.

Then, with a faint sigh, he asked, "You still haven’t realized it?"

Isobel blinked.

"Realized... what?"

For the first time that evening, Morgan seemed at a loss for words.

He leaned back against the sofa and exhaled slowly.

"...Figure it out yourself."

His tone carried the resignation of someone who had already said more than he intended.

Didn’t she realized how beautiful she was and Kristoff was still into her?

After a brief pause, he continued, "As for the photographs and the online posts, don’t concern yourself with them anymore. They’ve already been dealt with."

Isobel looked at him in surprise.

"You... took care of them?"

Morgan nodded once.

Relief washed over her, followed almost immediately by gratitude.

"Thank you, Morgan."

Her voice was sincere.

"I don’t even know how I can repay you."

She lowered her head slightly.

"You’ve helped me so many times already."

Morgan’s expression remained unreadable, but his gaze softened as it rested on the young woman before him.

"You don’t owe me anything."

His answer came without the slightest hesitation.

...

Kristof remained in his study long after he had returned to Dalton Mansion.

The room was silent except for the occasional swipe of his finger across the tablet resting on the desk.

Earlier that afternoon, he had stopped by Dalton Empire Tower to retrieve a few documents. He had intended to leave immediately, but Jack had intercepted him before he could reach the elevator.

"Boss," his assistant had said, his usually composed expression unusually grave. "There’s something you need to see."

Jack had handed him the tablet.

The moment Kristof saw the photographs, his eyes darkened.

By the time he finished reading the first article and the thousands of comments that followed, he had already pieced together what had happened.

Someone had deliberately orchestrated the entire incident. Not to ruin his reputation but to destroy Isobel’s.

His phone had rung shortly afterward.

Charlotte.

She had asked if he could spend the evening with her at the penthouse she kept across from Dalton Empire Tower.

Kristof had declined without hesitation.

"I’ve already returned to Dalton Mansion."

It wasn’t entirely a lie.

But neither was it the real reason.

For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he had no desire to see Charlotte that evening.

His attention returned to the tablet. He refreshed the page. The article vanished.

He opened another website.

Page not found.

Another.

The photographs had disappeared.

One after another, every post, every article, every discussion thread began disappearing as if they had never existed.

The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Jack was as efficient as ever.

He had given only one instruction.

Take them down.

His assistant had understood the rest.

...

Richard didn’t possess Morgan Foster’s wealth or Kristof Dalton’s influence.

But he had something neither of them lacked either—

People he trusted.

And the determination to see things through.

Instead of heading home, he pulled into an empty parking lot and killed the engine.

The silence inside the car lasted only a second before he took out his phone and dialed a familiar number.

The call was answered almost immediately.

"Richard? This is unusual."

"I need a favor."

The lightness in the man’s voice disappeared.

"...Go on."

"I need you to trace where the rumors about Isobel started."

Richard’s tone was calm, but every word carried quiet resolve.

"I don’t care about the people who shared the posts. I want the source. Find the first account that uploaded the photographs."

The man was silent for a moment.

When he finally spoke, his voice had grown serious.

"You know this isn’t ordinary online gossip, right?"

"I know."

"The people behind this probably have money. Maybe influence too."

Richard stared through the windshield, his eyes hardening.

"Then they’ll learn that money doesn’t erase evidence."

A faint chuckle came from the other end.

"Still as stubborn as ever."

"I’ll call you as soon as I find something."

The line disconnected.

Richard had barely driven a few kilometers when his phone rang.

He answered through the car’s hands-free system.

"Tell me you found something."

His friend sounded puzzled.

"I did... but something strange happened."

Richard’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"What is it?"

"Every post about the orphanage incident is gone."

Richard blinked.

"Gone?"

"Every photo. Every article. Every discussion thread. They’ve all been deleted."

A smile briefly crossed Richard’s face.

"That’s great."

He let out a relieved breath.

"You work faster than I expected."

There was a short pause.

"...Richard."

His friend’s voice turned solemn.

"It wasn’t me."

The smile vanished from Richard’s face.

"What?"

"I hadn’t even started."

A chill ran down Richard’s spine.

"If you didn’t do it..."

His friend finished the thought for him.

"Then someone else did."

Silence filled the car.

Richard’s eyes narrowed as countless possibilities raced through his mind.

Who had moved before him?

And why were they protecting Isobel?