An Intern Threw Coffee On Me, Proclaiming The Ceo Was Her Husband. So I Called Him…

“Of course it hurts. You’re human, not made of steel,” he soothed. “But you were brave enough to face it and cut out the cancer. Now it’s time to heal.”

“I’ve got things here. Go home and rest.”

I nodded weakly. I needed to go home, but not to rest. It was time to prepare for the next battle: the divorce. Arthur Vance walked over, still holding the file; he understood immediately.

“Madam Chairwoman, I have already drafted the divorce petition. With this evidence of infidelity and embezzlement, the court will grant it swiftly. Would you like to sign?”

I took a deep breath, mustering my resolve. “Give me the pen.”

I signed my name with a firm, unwavering stroke. That signature ended 10 years of my life, ended the illusion of a happy family, and opened a new chapter.

“Arthur, begin the proceedings immediately. Freeze all our joint assets. I don’t want him to be able to touch another cent. I want him to leave with nothing but the clothes on his back.”

“Yes, Madam Chairwoman,” Arthur said, taking the signed petition with a look of deep respect.

I turned to David, a small, weary smile on my face. “Thank you, David. I don’t know what I would have done without you today.”

He smiled warmly, his grin lighting up his serious face. “Don’t be a stranger. In his final days, your father realized what Mark was, but it was too late. He made me promise I would always look out for you. A man keeps his promises.”

I looked deep into his eyes and saw not just friendship, but a profound, steady affection that I had overlooked for so many years. But this wasn’t the time for that. I needed time to heal, and he understood.

I pulled my suitcase and walked out of the hospital. The afternoon sun cast my long shadow on the pavement. I walked with my head held high, leaving the ruins of my past behind me.

Ahead lay a future full of uncertainty, but also full of hope. And I knew, for the first time in a long time, that I would not be walking it alone.

The peace that followed the storm in the hospital lobby was merely the calm before the tsunami. I had just arrived home, not even having had the chance to collapse onto my bed, when my phone began buzzing incessantly.

It wasn’t one call, but a flood of notifications from news alerts and social media. I opened my phone to a barrage of sensational headlines and maliciously edited photos spreading like wildfire across social media platforms.

“Healthcare heiress assaults young intern in jealous rage.”

“The real story? Cheating wife and doctor lover frame husband to seize company.”

“Drama at Apex: CEO overthrown in brutal coup by wife and her lover.”

Someone had downloaded Tiffany’s livestream and expertly doctored it. They cut out the parts where she berated the valet, where she bragged and acted arrogantly. They only kept the clips of me looking stern, of David protectively shielding me, and of Mark kneeling and begging pathetically.

The clips were accompanied by thousands of vitriolic comments, clearly orchestrated by a professional troll farm.

“Look at that wife’s cold face. She’s a real piece of work.”

“The poor husband. She probably bullies him at home all the time.”

“I heard she’s been sleeping with that doctor for years. This was just an excuse to kick her husband to the curb.”

I dropped the phone, a chill running down my spine. I had underestimated Mark’s depravity. Knowing he couldn’t win on the facts, he had resorted to scorched-earth tactics, using public opinion to destroy my reputation and David’s.

He wanted to drag me down into the mud with him, to twist the narrative until I was the villain. The doorbell rang. It was Arthur. He entered with a grim expression, another file in his hand.

“Madam Chairwoman, the situation on social media is deteriorating rapidly,” he reported. “Our IT department has traced the campaign back to a black PR firm. They’re using thousands of bot accounts to attack the hospital’s official pages and your personal profiles. The funds for the campaign were wired from an anonymous account, but I have no doubt it’s the last of the money Mark managed to hide.”

I sank onto the sofa, massaging my throbbing temples.

“What does he want? Does he think this will get him his job back?”

“No, he knows that’s impossible,” Arthur surmised. “He wants to pressure you into a more favorable divorce settlement, or, more simply, he wants revenge. Cornered people are dangerous.”

I took a sip of hot tea, forcing myself to think clearly.

“I will not negotiate, not for a single penny. He chose to play dirty, and I will show him the price of angering a woman who has nothing left to lose. What are your orders? Should we disable comments and issue a press release?”

I shook my head.

“No. The more we hide, the guiltier we look. Let them talk. The truth is the only thing that matters. Gold is not afraid of fire. Arthur, arrange a formal press conference for tomorrow morning. Invite everyone—the major news networks, the city papers, and especially the online tabloids that are slandering me. I will face them directly.”

Arthur nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. “Understood. I’ll arrange it immediately.”

That night, sleep was impossible. I wandered through the large, empty mansion, a home once filled with happy memories now cold and silent. I peeked into my children’s rooms. My two little angels were sleeping soundly, oblivious to the storm raging around their mother.

I swore to myself that I would be strong for them, for my father’s legacy, and for myself. I would not fall.

The next morning, the main auditorium at Apex University Hospital was packed with reporters. Camera flashes strobed incessantly, the clicks of shutters creating a tense, suffocating atmosphere. Everyone wanted the inside scoop on the billion-dollar scandal.

I walked into the room wearing a simple, conservative black dress, my face made up to look composed and resolute. By my side was David, in his familiar white coat, his presence calm and dignified. Our arrival commanded the attention of every camera in the room.

We sat at the head table. I opened the press conference, my voice steady and clear.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen of the press. My name is Catherine Hayes. I have called this press conference not to defend myself, but to defend the honor of Apex Hospital and its dedicated staff. The information currently circulating on social media is a malicious fabrication, edited with the sole intent to defame and slander.”

A young reporter stood up, posing a sharp question.

“Mrs. Hayes, the public believes you and Dr. Chen are having an affair and that you fired your husband to clear the way for your lover. How do you respond to that?”

The room fell silent, waiting for my reaction. But before I could speak, David took the microphone. He stood, looked directly at the reporter, then let his steady gaze sweep across the room.

“I would like to answer that question,” David said, his deep voice carrying clearly through the speakers. “Regarding the relationship between myself and Chairwoman Hayes, I can confirm that we are old friends from medical school, trusted colleagues, and professional partners. There is absolutely no illicit affair as the rumors claim.”

He paused, taking a breath.

“However, I will not hide one truth. I have had feelings for Catherine for 15 years—since we were students, through her marriage, and to this day. It is a love born of respect and admiration. But I have never once crossed the ethical line of a friend or a physician. I kept those feelings to myself so that she could be happy. But today, seeing her slandered by a coward, I can no longer remain silent.”

David’s frank and courageous confession stunned the entire room. No one expected a man as successful and private as him to publicly declare his unrequited love to defend the woman he cared for. The murmurs died down, replaced by looks of sympathy and respect.

David continued, signaling an assistant to project an image onto the large screen behind them. It was a DNA lab report.

“As for the real reason Mr. Thompson was fired… this is the evidence we held back yesterday, hoping to grant him a final shred of dignity. He has proven he doesn’t deserve it. This is a DNA test confirming the paternity of Mr. Mark Thompson and a three-year-old boy currently living at the Rosebud Children’s Home.”

The auditorium erupted in gasps. Every camera swiveled to the screen.

“Mr. Thompson fathered a child with another woman four years ago, long before he met the intern, Tiffany Jones. After the mother passed away from an illness, he abandoned his own son at a children’s home. He has never once visited or provided any support, despite living a life of luxury. A man who not only cheats on his wife and embezzles from his company, but who also abandons his own flesh and blood—does a man like that have any right to speak of morality or play the victim?”

This revelation was a knockout punch that completely decimated public opinion. All suspicion against me vanished, replaced by a wave of intense fury directed at Mark. The image of the dignified CEO was shattered, replaced by the portrait of a cold, heartless monster.

I looked at David, overwhelmed with emotion. To protect me, he had exposed the deepest corner of his own heart. He had silently found that poor child to help me turn the tide. The press conference ended in a decisive victory for the truth.

The subsequent news reports were a complete reversal, praising my courage and David’s integrity while fiercely condemning Mark’s actions.