I was halfway through a strategy session with Rina when the headline dropped.
"Illegitimate Heiress? C Group's New CEO Tied to Identity Fraud, Family Scandal."
I blinked. Once. Twice.
Rina's phone buzzed. Natthapon's face appeared in a message: "It's live. Thanawan moved first."
The article had everything—photos from my adoption, a blurry copy of my name change, even a forged psychiatric note questioning Chakan's mental state.
And the line that made my stomach turn:
> "Sources claim Ms. Moon Fowler was inserted into the C Group leadership through manipulation by her late Father, Kawin Chirapaisarnsakul, in a desperate attempt to seize wealth she was never entitled to."
They dragged my father's name through the mud.
They called him desperate.
I stood slowly, fire buzzing beneath my skin.
"How fast can you trace the leak?" I asked.
Rina didn't even look up. "Already done. It came from a media firm tied to Thanawan's third husband's nephew."
"Make it personal," I said coldly. "I want that firm blacklisted by every tech and energy company by tomorrow morning."
Ploy texted next.
> She's going to file a motion to freeze the CEO transition until board review.
Natthapon chimed in.
> You need to act first. Something bold.
But I didn't answer right away.
Because the voice in my head wasn't theirs.
It was him.
"Only when they turn on you. Only when you doubt why you were chosen."
---
That night, I went to him.
The family estate was quiet.
Not the cold quiet of fear—but the empty quiet of fading legacy. The marble halls were too clean. The portraits are too untouched. Like ghosts waiting to be remembered.
They took me through the east wing—where only one man still lived.
Chakan Chirapaisarnsakul.
The king of C Group.
My so-called grandfather.
He sat in a chair facing the window, dressed in a silk robe, his back slightly hunched. A nurse nodded and stepped out silently.
I stood there for a moment. Watching.
Then I spoke, softly.
"You knew she'd come for me."
His head tilted slightly. Not much, but enough.
"She moved first," I continued. "She leaked everything. She's trying to make the world believe I don't belong."
I walked closer, heart thudding. "Why did you choose me? Why now? You knew this would happen."
Still no reply. Just that slow breathing. The wind outside brushing against the glass like a whisper from another life.
"I need to know what happened," I said. "Why did you never tell anyone about me? Why did you stay silent while they erased us?"
Then he turned.
Eyes pale. But sharp.
And he spoke.
"He… asked me not to tell them."
My heart stopped.
He continued, voice cracked with age but clear with memory.
"Kawin came to me after he thought he might end early due to his lab. Said he was done with the family. That he would raise you away from all this poison."
He paused, long and tired.
"I offered him money. He refused. Told me he'd rather starve with pride than eat from Thanawan's hand."
I swallowed hard. "Then why—"
"He changed his mind," He said softly. "Near the end. When the danger called. He came back to me. Said he wanted you to have the life he couldn't. He begged me to give you the name back."
Tears welled up. My father's final wish wasn't safety anymore. It was a legacy.
"He died," he said, "two days before I signed the amendment to the family register."
And then he looked at me.
Not like a stranger.
Not like a burden.
But like a weapon he had sharpened in silence.
"Prove them wrong," He said. "And take everything they built."
---
As I walked back into the night, my path was clear.
They could smear my name.
Call me a fraud.
Burn my past.
But they forgot—
I didn't come from the throne.
I came from the fire.
The room was a hornet's nest of flashing cameras and whispered scandals.
The press conference was scheduled for 10:00 AM.
By 9:58, every seat was filled.
By 10:00, I walked in—flanked by Rina and Natthapon. My hair was down this time. Red lipstick. A blood-colored power suit that said exactly what I didn't need to.
I owned the room before I spoke.
The moment I sat, the media barrage began.
"Ms. Fowler—can you confirm your legal identity as Chao-fa Chirapaisarnsakul?"
"Is it true your father concealed you from the family?"
"Did you manipulate Chairman Chakan during his declining mental state?"
I raised my hand. The room stilled.
Then I smiled—but it didn't reach my eyes.
"I'll answer every question," I said. "But not with speculation. With evidence."
Rina activated the projector behind me.
Slide one: The original amendment signed by Chakan, legally recognizing me as his heir before any documented cognitive decline. Witnessed by two board members—including one who currently supports Thanawan.
Slide two: A video of Chakan, dated a month before my appointment, clearly lucid, stating in his own words:
> "Moon is more capable than any of my grandchildren. If the company is to survive the next decade, it needs a soul—not just blood."
Slide three: A bank trail—Thanawan's firm paying the media outlet that leaked the defamatory article. Rina dropped it like a guillotine.
"Let me be clear," I said, voice like sharpened ice. "My father kept me away from this family not out of shame—but out of self-respect. And he only returned when he knew I had earned this, not as a birthright—but by blood, sweat, and sacrifice."
"And if anyone still doubts my legitimacy," I added, "feel free to compare my resume with those trying to erase me. I didn't grow up in boardrooms. I built companies from nothing. I didn't inherit wealth—I outperformed it."
The room shifted. You could feel it. That moment when doubt breaks into awe.
Then, just as one reporter stood to question me again, I added:
"And for those challenging my grandfather's mind?"
Rina switched to the final slide.
A court-sealed psychiatric report from Chakan's personal physician—declaring him mentally sound up to six months after appointing me.
Taeng and Zachary's legal motion had already leaked.
Now it was exposed as baseless.
"Attempting to weaponize mental health to rewrite history," I said slowly, "is not just unethical. It's desperate. And I do not run this company out of desperation."
I stood.
"I run it on proof."
Then I walked off the stage.
The headlines the next morning weren't about the scandal.
They were about my comeback.
> "Moon Fowler Destroys Allegations in Press Bloodbath: 'I Don't Inherit Thrones. I Earn Them.'"
> "Legitimacy Confirmed: C Group's New CEO Flips Narrative With Receipts, Leaves Rivals Exposed."
> "The Granddaughter They Tried to Erase Now Controls Their Empire."