Chapter 8: The Smear Campaign
Chapter 8: The Smear Campaign
Eleanor didn't go down quietly. Desperate, humiliated, and stranded at a cheap, roadside motel paid for by a highly reluctant friend, she decided to play the only card she thought she had left: the victim.
By noon, she had taken to social media. She posted a tearful, highly edited, dramatically lit video on Instagram, claiming that I was a secretly abusive, controlling, and narcissistic husband who had kicked her out into the freezing street in the middle of the night without a penny to her name. She claimed I was suffering from paranoia and alienating her from her "beloved stepdaughter" because I couldn't handle her success as an independent interior designer.
Because of her large following, the video started gaining immediate traction. The comment section became a mob. My company's PR director called me in a blind panic as comments flooded in, calling for a boycott of my firm and demanding I be removed as CEO.
"Richard, we need to issue a statement immediately," my PR director pleaded over the phone, the sound of typing echoing in the background. "The media is picking this up. She's painting you as an absolute monster."
"Let her," I said, staring at the security footage on my tablet, watching Eleanor shove my child. "Let her dig the hole as deep as she possibly can. Give her exactly twenty-four hours to spread her lies and gather her sympathizers."
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"But the board of directors is getting nervous—"
"I am the majority shareholder," I interrupted sharply. "Tell them to hold their nerve until tomorrow morning. When we strike back, we aren't just going to clear my name. We are going to end her entire career."
