The old man stood in front of his shop, clad in black mourning clothes.

Tailor Caruso had lived a long life, but even at his age, grief clung to him. The reporters swarmed around him like vultures, eager to sink their teeth into his pain, to twist his sorrow into a headline.

"We have reports suggesting that Ms. Joanne Smith manipulated her ex-boyfriend into killing your nephew. What do you think about that, Mr. Caruso?" one reporter pressed.

The old tailor turned on his heel and walked back toward his shop. The reporters took it as a sign that he would answer them, stepping closer in anticipation.

After all, they wanted astory—something sensational, something they could stretch and twist until it bled money.

Joanne lowered her head, closing her eyes.

The warmth of Jeffrey’s hand in hers was a steady anchor. A comfort.

And yet, despite the weight of the accusations, a small, wry thought crossed her mind.

Have I really grown this much?

The media’s obsession with her was almostimpressive.Either it was a slow news day, or they truly believed bringing her down wasthatimportant.

But before she could dwell on it further, a chorus of shrieks rang out.

The reporters yelped, stumbling back. Some of the female reportersscreamed.

Joanne’s head snapped up. Her breath caught.

Tailor Caruso stood on the shop’s porch, clutching abucket of water,throwing itat the reporters.

"Get off my lawn, ya nasty f*ckers!" he roared.

Stunned silence followed, broken only by the spluttering of drenched reporters.

"Why do you think I’m mourning the death of a child predator and amurderer?" he spat, eyes burning with fury. "I’m not mourninghim.I’m mourning thechildrenwhose lives he took! I’m praying fortheirsouls!"

A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd.

Caruso’s voice was hoarse but powerful. "Don’t youknowwho he was?Whyhe was given the death penalty? Does that notmatteranymore?"

One of the younger reporters stepped forward, phone raised to capture the outburst.

The old tailor scowled. "Oh, keep that thing off of me!"

He dumped waterdirectlyonto the reporter’s phone.

A strangled gasp left her lips as she recoiled, holding her drenched device at arm’s length. That was enough to send the rest of themscramblingback, suddenly wary of the furious old man.

Caruso kept grumbling as he stormed inside. "Why the hell was he at her place in the first place? What was she supposed to do?Get killedby a demon like him? You people are fcking retards. All you want is fame and likes... Fcking imbeciles."

Just before disappearing inside, he muttered something under his breath.

"...making me defend aSmith..."

Joanne’s throat tightened.

He haddefendedher.

TailorCaruso, the patriarch of a family that had hated hers forgenerations, haddefendedher.

She turned to Jeffrey, her heart hammering.

Jeffrey was already looking at her. He smiled.

She exhaled, the weight on her chest easing just a little.

The Caruso family had taken a stance.

And it was onherside. On the side of justice.

"This is good for us," Mark Greenberg said, leaning back in his chair. "Really good."

Joanne let out a small chuckle.Goodwasn’t the word she would have used, but she couldn’t deny the flicker of relief in her chest. She hadnotexpected Tailor Caruso’s outburst, but damn if it didn’t feel like a small victory.

"I thought so..." she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief.

But the moment of triumph was fleeting.

"Ian Walsh went to the cops," Jeffrey said grimly. "He’s claiming you wrongfully separated him from his children using your influence."

Joanne sighed.

She should have seen that coming.

Ian Walsh was one of the so-called "witnesses" fueling the media’s smear campaign against her. But if he thought this would get his kids back, he was delusional.

There wasproofof his abuse.Proofof what she had done to protect those kids. If he wasn’t getting the proper rehabilitation, did he even realize what he was risking?

Without her intervention, those children would have ended up in thefoster system.He was gambling with their future just to spite her.

Jeffrey took over, explaining the entire situation to Greenberg—the history of Ian’s abuse, how Joanne had stepped in, and how the kids were now safe with their aunt.

The lawyer frowned. "You didn’t handle this through legal channels, though."

"I did what I had to do," Joanne said firmly.

Greenberg exhaled, rubbing his temple. "A judge might understand that." He wasn’t fully convinced, but at least he saw a path forward.

Then Jeffrey spoke again.

"And Nina," he said. "She’s the one who complained to the media that you’re a horrible boss."

Joanne rolled her eyes.

Ofcourseit was Nina.

She wasn’t even sure if this was worth addressing. Nina had been a nightmare of an employee—constantly slacking off, and pushing blame onto others. She had always wanted to bring her down, She had fired herself, really.

She was nothing. She didn’t think of Jonathan as someone who would keep his word, but if he was half the man he was supposed to be, he would handle Nina.

Even if he didn’t, Nina was nothing to be worried about.

But amid all this, Joanne noticed something.

Jeffrey knewa lot.

He had investigatedthis much—all in a short amount of time.

How?

Just how the hell did he manage to dig up all of this in mere hours?

Pushing that thought aside, she turned to the real concern.

"What about the trafficking allegations?" she asked. "Isn’t that the bigger problem?"

Greenberg nodded. "That should be our priority."

"I’m looking into it," Jeffrey said. "It could be a set up."

He was deep in thought, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. His grandfather hadmentionedthe Campbell family. Could they be behind this?

The lawyer’s eyes sharpened at that.

If this was a setup, and Jeffrey could prove it, then they had a much stronger defense than he originally thought.

After discussing his legal strategy with them, Greenberg stood. "I’ll start making calls. I’ll keep you both updated."

With that, he left.

The room was quiet for a moment.

Joanne exhaled, rubbing her forehead. "This just keeps getting messier."

Jeffrey reached over, brushing his fingers against hers. "It’s going to be fine, trust me..."

Joanne looked at him. Can I trust you, Jeffrey? Can I really trust you when you are keeping who you are from me?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com