**Chapter 16**
In the moments preceding this dramatic turn, Winthrop had taken it upon himself to let slip the news of his impending proposal, a move that had drawn a small crowd of elders eager to witness the occasion. Their presence was heavy with expectation, an air of anticipation thickening in the room.
Yet, as the seconds ticked by, an unexpected and uncomfortable silence enveloped the space, suffocating the jubilant atmosphere.
The reporters, sensing the tension, rushed to diffuse the situation, their voices a flurry of reassurances. “With the wedding just around the corner, Mr. Mendoza is clearly overwhelmed with excitement and simply misspoke. It’s evident he holds his fiancée in the highest regard.”
But just as they attempted to smooth over the awkwardness, Winthrop closed his eyes, a storm brewing within him. He rose from his chair with deliberate slowness, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. In an explosive gesture, he slammed the script he had been holding onto the floor, the sound echoing like a thunderclap.
“Dote on her? What a ridiculous notion! There isn’t an ounce of affection between us. How could there be any doting? It’s all just a façade!”
The words hung in the air, heavy and charged, as silence gripped the stage like a vice. Chloe, perched nervously in her seat, felt the color drain from her face.
After a heartbeat, she mustered a forced smile, her voice a whisper laced with urgency as she reached out to grasp Winthrop’s sleeve. “Winn, what are you saying? Please, sit down quickly! The elders from both the Mendoza and Norman families are watching us!”
But Winthrop, seemingly unyielding, raised his hand sharply, a gesture that sliced through the tension like a knife.
Chloe, caught off guard by the force of his dismissal, stumbled backward into her chair, her heart racing.
“Still playing this charade? I’m done with it. Get out of my sight!”
“Winthrop, what on earth are you trying to accomplish?”
A voice from the audience pierced the silence, a reprimand laced with disbelief. The elders of the Mendoza family shot him glares filled with fury, their faces contorted in anger at his blatant disrespect towards the Norman family, especially in such a public setting.
But Winthrop slowly turned his head, his demeanor unflinching. His assistant darted forward, a printed document clutched tightly in hand.
With a firm grip on the document, Winthrop’s voice rang out, clear and commanding. “What am I doing? I’m here to unveil your true colors and your disgusting behavior once and for all.”
In a swift motion, he swept his arm across the table, sending papers cascading through the air like leaves in a storm, littering the studio floor with the remnants of his defiance.
One particular sheet drifted down, landing softly in Yvonne’s hand. It was packed with damning evidence—records detailing numerous illegal dealings orchestrated by the Mendoza Group, alongside clauses from an agreement with the Norman family that revealed their intention to exploit their marriage as a publicity stunt to artificially inflate stock prices.
From the very moment he had returned, Winthrop had felt like a marionette, strings pulled by the Mendoza Group, sacrificing his own happiness and life for their profit-driven motives.
The affection and care he had feigned for Chloe had been nothing more than a carefully crafted act, a mask he wore to play his part.
“What? The nation’s beloved couple was nothing but a fabrication?”
“All that talk about doting on his wife and being protective was merely scripted dialogue, a positive image manufactured by the company for Winthrop,”
“This is absolutely scandalous! Do they think we’re fools? They’re entertaining the public solely for their own profit!”
A chorus of condemnation erupted, voices rising in outrage as the truth spilled out like a torrent.
The members of the Mendoza family in the audience turned a sickly shade of green, scrambling to regain control and shut down the studio. But the explosive revelations had captured the media’s attention, and the cameras zoomed in, capturing every moment, flashes of light illuminating the chaos.
Winthrop descended the steps with an air of calm authority, microphone in hand, each word deliberate and measured. “My true wife is, in fact, the woman your Mendoza family has shamelessly thrust into the limelight as the so-called mistress—Yvonne.”
His gaze locked onto Yvonne’s face, a mixture of pain and understanding swirling within him.
He felt a deep ache for all the injustices she had suffered in silence, and for his own inability to shield the one he cherished most from the cruel machinations of their world.
The evidence Yvonne had painstakingly prepared to defend her honor now lay useless at her feet.
As she met Winthrop’s guilty gaze, a sense of unwavering resolve washed over her. In this moment, she found strength, even amidst the chaos.
