Chapter 8 - The Media Storm
By the next morning, the news broken across the financial and tabloid worlds like a tidal wave.
"WHITAKER ENTERPRISES CEO CANCELS CARTWRIGHT MERGER"
"ELEANOR WHITAKER RESIGNS FROM BOARD AMID FAMILY SCANDAL"
"THE SECRET QUADRUPLETS OF TRIBECA: JULIAN WHITAKER REVEALS HEIRS"
The press gathered outside my Tribeca building in dozens, cameras flashing every time a delivery truck arrived. But inside the penthouse, the world was peaceful.
I sat on the living room rug, wrapped in a blanket, helping Milo and Mason build a sprawling LEGO castle. Across the room, Mara was teaching Max and Micah how to draw comic book characters on a pad of paper.
My phone chimed with a message from my chief PR officer:
“Stock opened three percent down, but bounced back to plus four percent after your statement regarding the family trust. The public loves the story, Julian. You’re being called the most devoted father in New York.”
I tossed the phone onto the couch, not caring about the stock price anymore.
Mara walked over, sitting down beside me on the rug, resting her chin on my shoulder. "Are you really okay with all of this, Julian? The whole world is talking about us."
"Let them talk," I said, turning my head to press a kiss to her temple. "For six years, people told stories about me that weren't true. Now, the world finally knows the truth: I’m a man who loves his family."
"Mommy! Look!" Micah shouted, running over to show us his drawing. It was a crude crayon picture of six figures standing together in front of a giant building. Four small boys, one woman with green hair, and one tall man wearing a crown.
"Is that me?" I asked, pointing to the tall man with the crown.
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"Yup," Micah nodded enthusiastically. "You’re the prince who rescued us from the cold restaurant!"
Mara’s eyes met mine, a soft, affectionate glow warming her features. "He didn't just rescue us, buddy," she whispered, reaching over to hold my hand. "He brought us home."
