Chapter 10 - THE PRESS CONFERENCE
The fallout was biblical.
The stock market reacted with violent volatility for exactly forty-eight hours before stabilizing, driven upward by the sheer, undeniable strength of Fallon’s public command. The world was captivated by the story—a modern-day fairy tale wrapped in corporate espionage and profound romance.
Arthur Vance quietly disappeared into his Hamptons estate, a ghost haunting his own empty halls, completely excised from the empire he had built. Dr. Aris Thorne’s medical license was revoked, and federal investigations were launched into Arthur’s dark money networks.
But inside the penthouse of the Vance Tower, the noise of the outside world was entirely shut out.
It was a quiet Tuesday evening, two weeks after the press conference. Holden was resting on the massive velvet sofa in the living room, a blanket draped over his legs. His color had returned, the shadows beneath his eyes fading as his heart grew stronger each day.
Fallon sat on the floor beside him, leaning her head against his knee, watching the boys.
They were sprawling across the expensive Persian rug, surrounded by a mountain of Legos. The fierce arguments over which movie to watch had been replaced by fierce arguments over architectural structural integrity—a trait they had undoubtedly inherited from their mother.
"I still can't believe it's real," Holden murmured, his hand gently stroking Fallon’s hair. "Sometimes I wake up and panic, thinking I'm back on that kitchen floor."
Fallon turned her head, pressing a kiss to his palm. "We're never going back to that kitchen, Holden. We're moving forward."
"Speaking of moving forward," Holden smiled, shifting slightly. "The doctors say I can start light physical therapy next week. I want to be able to throw a baseball with them by spring."
"You will," Fallon promised. "But you're not going back to teaching fourth grade. Not unless you want to."
"I want to teach," Holden said firmly, though his eyes twinkled. "But maybe... maybe I'll start an after-school program. Something for kids who don't have a lot of resources. Kids who grew up like mine did."
Fallon’s heart swelled. He hadn't changed. The billionaire lifestyle hadn't corrupted his soul; it was only going to amplify his goodness. "I think the Vance Foundation would be thrilled to fully fund that initiative."
"Mom!" Phoenix yelled, holding up a massive, abstract structure of brightly colored blocks. "Look! It's the Vance Tower, but with a laser defense system to keep grandpas out!"
Holden burst out laughing, clutching his chest lightly. Fallon chuckled, standing up and walking over to inspect the creation.
"It's very impressive, Phoenix," she praised. "Though I think Marcus has the laser defense system handled."
Beckett looked up from his own pile of bricks. He had relaxed significantly over the past two weeks, the heavy burden of being the 'man of the house' finally lifted from his ten-year-old shoulders. "Hey, Mom?"
Fallon smiled at the word. It still sent a thrill down her spine. "Yes, Beckett?"
"Are we going to change our last names? To Vance?"
Fallon paused, looking back at Holden. He offered her a soft, encouraging nod.
"No," Fallon said, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to her sons. "Your last name is Cross. It's the name of the man who raised you, who protected you, and who loves you more than anything. In fact..." She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.
Holden’s eyes widened. "Fallon, what are you doing?"
"I asked you to marry me ten years ago, Holden Cross," Fallon said, her voice thick with emotion. She crawled over to the sofa, opening the box to reveal a simple, elegant platinum band. "You said yes. But we never got the chance. I want my last name to be Cross."
Holden stared at the ring, tears welling in his eyes. He looked at the woman who had defied the world to find him, the woman who had traded an empire of lies for a family built on truth.
May you like
"Yes," Holden whispered, pulling her up onto the sofa beside him. "A million times, yes."
The boys erupted into cheers, abandoning their Legos to tackle their parents in a chaotic, joyful hug, entirely disregarding Holden’s surgical incisions in their excitement.
