Chapter 322: And The Winner Is...

At the Ascott mansion, John Ascott sat motionless in his favorite armchair, his eyes fixed on the enormous LED screen mounted on the wall.

He had been sitting there for over half an hour.

He neither moved nor spoke. Even when the housekeeper served his tea, he barely acknowledged her presence. His attention remained locked on the stock market figures flashing across the screen.

The numbers should have pleased him.

Dalton Corporation’s stock price had climbed by two points, recovering from the damage caused by Charlotte Harris’s scandal.

Yet, instead of feeling satisfied, John felt as though he was watching a nightmare unfold in real time.

"Dad, are you all right?"

Janice Ascott’s voice broke through his thoughts.

She studied her father with a puzzled expression before glancing at the screen.

"Dad, are you so happy that Dalton’s stock price has recovered and even rose that you’ve turned into a statue?" she teased. "I still can’t believe Kristoff managed to turn things around so quickly. How did he pull that off?"

"By throwing Charlotte under the bus, obviously."

Jenzen Ascott, John’s eldest son, scoffed as he settled onto the sofa.

"That man sacrificed his girlfriend to save his own reputation. And just like that, the internet turned him into a hero. I can’t believe people are stupid enough to fall for his act."

Janice shot her brother an irritated look.

"Charlotte was the one who created this mess. Kristoff didn’t throw her under the bus. He simply told the truth, and the public drew its own conclusions."

Jenzen raised an eyebrow. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Kristoff’s, of course. I own shares in his company. Why would I want its stock price to fall?"

"You’re unbelievable!"

"And you’re annoying!"

The siblings resumed their bickering, their voices rising as each tried to get the last word.

But John barely heard them.

His temples throbbed. A dull pressure had begun to build in his chest, spreading slowly until every breath felt unnaturally heavy.

He loosened his collar and tried to steady his breathing.

It was nothing. It had to be nothing.

His gaze drifted back to the stock market figures.

Dalton Corporation’s shares continued to climb.

One point.

Two.

Then three.

Each upward movement felt like a hammer striking his skull.

No. This couldn’t be happening.

In the past, he manipulated Henry Dalton into surrendering two percent of his shares.

And now, he had planned everything so carefully.

With the scandal, he had anticipated the public backlash, and the inevitable collapse of Kristoff’s reputation. He had even calculated how much he could gain when Dalton Corporation’s stock price plummeted.

He had been so certain of his victory that he had practically tasted it.

Yet now, the very man he had intended to crush was standing taller than ever.

And the market was rewarding him for it.

"Dad?" Janice called again.

John tried to answer, but his tongue felt strangely thick. A sharp pain tore through his chest, and his fingers instinctively clutched the armrest.

His vision blurred. The numbers on the screen began to swim before his eyes.

He had to do something.

He had to find out how Kristoff had pulled it off.

How had the young man managed to reverse the narrative so completely? How had he turned a scandal that should have destroyed him into an opportunity to strengthen his position?

Had he hired someone to manipulate public opinion? Had he paid hackers to bury the damaging posts and flood the internet with favorable comments?

It was the only explanation John could accept.

Because the alternative was far more terrifying.

The alternative was that Kristoff Dalton had outsmarted him.

That the man he had dismissed as an arrogant, inexperienced heir had seen through his scheme from the very beginning.

That every move John made had played directly into Kristoff’s hands.

Impossible!

John’s heart pounded violently against his ribs.

He tried to rise from his chair, but his legs refused to cooperate.

Then—

THUD!

His body crashed onto the marble floor.

"DAD!"

Jenzen and Janice screamed in unison.

Their argument ended instantly as they rushed toward him.

"Call an ambulance!" Janice shrieked, dropping to her knees beside her father.

Jenzen fumbled for his phone, his face draining of color.

But John could no longer hear them.

The bet he made with Kristoff burned into his fading consciousness.

Dalton Corporation’s stock price was still climbing.

And for the first time in his life, John Ascott realized that money, power, and influence could not guarantee victory.

Not when he had chosen the wrong opponent.

...

When John Ascott regained consciousness, daylight was streaming through the curtains of his hospital room.

For several seconds, he stared blankly at the ceiling, unable to remember how he had ended up there.

Then he tried to speak.

"Wh-what..."

The word emerged as little more than an unintelligible murmur.

Alarmed, he attempted to move his mouth again, only to discover that one corner had drooped. His tongue felt heavy, and his speech came out slurred.

Panic seized him.

He struggled to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced him back against the pillows.

A heart attack.

The doctors had told his family that the stress had triggered a serious cardiac event. He had survived, but his condition remained precarious, and he would need extensive treatment and rehabilitation.

For a man who had spent his entire life commanding boardrooms, intimidating rivals, and bending people to his will, being reduced to this was a humiliation beyond words.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to what awaited him.

Janice had left a tablet beside his bed. With trembling fingers, John managed to switch it on.

The first headline he saw was about Kristoff Dalton.

The second was about Dalton Corporation’s surging stock price.

The third was an analysis of the company’s recovery, praising Kristoff’s handling of the scandal and his decisive response to the crisis.

John’s fingers tightened around the tablet.

Praise. Admiration. Respect.

The very things he had expected to see stripped away from Kristoff were now being showered upon him.

And Charlotte Harris?

He had expected that she would be the tool to help bring down Kristoff.

But she had become the public face of the scandal, her reputation crumbling beneath the weight of her own actions.

John had expected chaos.

He had expected Kristoff to panic, the public to turn against him, and Dalton Corporation’s stock price to plunge.

Instead, Kristoff had emerged stronger.

He hadn’t merely survived the trap. He had turned it into a stepping-stone.

John’s breathing grew shallow.

How?

How had he done it?

John replayed every detail of the past two days, searching desperately for the missing piece. Had Kristoff anticipated Charlotte’s betrayal? Had he deliberately allowed the scandal to unfold, waiting for the perfect moment to expose the truth?

Or had the man simply understood something John had overlooked?

That in the age of social media, the truth could be more powerful than any carefully manufactured narrative.