Chapter 3 - The Rossi Backlash
The financial world woke up the next morning to a bloodbath.
Before the opening bell of the New York Stock Exchange, a leaked copy of the St. Jude's security footage had found its way onto every major social media platform. The video of the beautiful, wealthy Isabella Rossi brutally kicking a pregnant woman in a hospital room went viral within minutes, sparking worldwide outrage.
The public’s reaction was swift and merciless. Under the hashtag #JusticeForKhloe, millions of people called for a complete boycott of all Rossi Group products and Thorne Group subsidiaries. By 9:30 AM, the Thorne Group's stock had dropped twelve percent, while the Rossi Group’s shares went into a freefall, halting trading twice.
Inside the penthouse office of the Rossi Group headquarters, Victor Rossi stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the Manhattan skyline. His face was weathered, his hands clenched behind his back.
"Where is she?" Victor asked, his voice a low growl.
"She is currently in protective custody at the precinct, sir," his assistant murmured, keeping her head down. "The judge denied bail. The public outrage is too high. The prosecutor is treating this as a high-profile case to make an example of her."
The heavy double doors of the office burst open. Isabella’s mother, Sophia Rossi, rushed in, her eyes red from crying, her expensive fur coat disheveled.
"Victor! You have to do something!" Sophia shrieked, grabbing her husband’s arm. "They have our daughter in a standard holding cell! She’s terrified! She says the other women are threatening her! Use your connections! Call the governor!"
"The governor won't take my calls, Sophia!" Victor roared, spinning around and throwing a crystal decanter against the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces. "Do you have any idea what your precious daughter did?! She didn't just push a rival; she kicked a pregnant woman on camera! In a hospital owned by the victim's family!"
"But she's our daughter!" Sophia sobbed. "We can buy the media! We can pay off the witnesses!"
"The witness is Marcus Thorne!" Victor yelled, his breathing ragged. "He doesn't need our money! He has more than we do! He’s currently systematically shorting our stock, buying up our debt, and forcing our board members to resign. He is not trying to settle, Sophia. He is trying to liquidate us."
The phone on Victor’s desk rang. He snatched it up, his voice harsh. "What?!"
"Mr. Rossi," the smooth, cold voice of Marcus Thorne came through the line. "I assume you’ve seen the morning market reports."
Victor’s grip on the receiver tightened until his knuckles turned white. "Marcus. Let's be business partners here. Your daughter is in the NICU. My daughter made a mistake. We can find a way to resolve this that doesn't involve the destruction of both our legacies."
"You mistake my intentions, Victor," Marcus said, his voice eerily calm over the phone. "I don't care about my legacy anymore. I care about my wife and my child. Your daughter tried to kill them. So, here is my offer: you will sign over all of your logistics shares to the Thorne Group for one dollar. You will release a public statement condemning your daughter’s actions, and you will retire from public life immediately."
"And if I refuse?" Victor hissed. "I still have allies on your board, Marcus. They won't let you destroy the company over a personal vendetta."
"Your allies on my board were bought out three hours ago," Marcus replied. "By tomorrow, the Rossi Group will be bankrupt. Your daughter will go to prison, and you will be left with nothing but the clothes on your back. You have until five o'clock tonight to sign the transfer papers. Have a good day, Victor."
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The line went dead.
Victor slowly lowered the phone, looking at his weeping wife. For the first time in his life, the powerful patriarch of the Rossi empire felt a chill of absolute, helpless terror.
