(Elisa's POV)
The campus, usually a bubble of academic pursuits and youthful drama, felt like it was holding its breath. Whispers about the Thorne Foundation weren't whispers anymore; they were headlines, albeit from less reputable corners of the internet. Accusations of "questionable financial dealings" and "unethical labor practices" swirled around the name that was now synonymous with my future.
My stomach churned every time I saw a news alert or overheard a hushed conversation. My scholarship. My ticket to a future I'd only dreamed of. Was it built on shaky ground? Was this entire opportunity just another part of the 'public mess' Felix's family was so desperate to clean up? The thought was a bitter pill to swallow. It felt like all my hard work, my genuine talent, was being overshadowed by scandal, reduced to a convenient pawn in a corporate PR game. The initial relief from the dinner, the quiet shift with Felix – it all felt fragile now, threatened by this looming crisis.
Felix himself had vanished. His usual spots were empty. His absence spoke volumes, confirming the severity of the situation. He was undoubtedly in the thick of it, navigating the very "complicated" problems he'd hinted at in that cafe call.
Then, walking past the administration building, I overheard it. Felix's father's voice, sharp and cold, cutting through the evening air. "This cannot be traced back to us... Our legacy is at stake!" And then Felix, sounding so unlike himself, so desperate. "I'm doing everything I can, Father! But cutting off funding... won't fix the core issue!" And the worst part: "The Thorne Legacy Project, it's on hold. Indefinitely."
My breath hitched. The 'Legacy Project.' I'd heard whispers. It was supposed to be his magnum opus, his path, something he was being groomed for. To hear it was on hold, indefinitely, confirmed just how dire things were. He wasn't just dealing with a PR nightmare; he was battling for his own future, and seemingly, for some shred of integrity within his ruthless family. Seeing that raw desperation in his voice, hearing the weight of his family's demands, made me realize the sheer scale of the pressure he lived under. It was no longer just about my scholarship; it was about the very foundation of his life crumbling under public scrutiny.
The Crisis Deepens: Under Siege (Felix's POV)
The world felt like it was closing in. The media, usually a distant hum, was now a snarling beast, nipping at my family's heels. Not just the tabloids, but the more serious financial publications were starting to ask questions. Accusations of "questionable financial dealings" and "unethical labor practices" from a subsidiary company were now plastered everywhere. It was a full-blown crisis, far worse than the car incident. This wasn't a "petty scandal"; this was a genuine threat to the Thorne name, to everything my father had built.
I'd pulled back from campus. Classes were a luxury I couldn't afford. Every waking moment was consumed by damage control, by endless, infuriating meetings with lawyers and PR teams who seemed more concerned with burying information than actually solving the problem. My father was a constant, looming presence, his demands relentless, his temper volatile.
One evening, I was with him in one of the university's private meeting rooms, a sterile box of glass and steel, arguing. Or rather, he was shouting, and I was trying to inject some semblance of logic into his panicked directives. "Utter incompetence! This cannot be traced back to us, do you understand, Felix? The foundation must remain untainted. Our legacy is at stake!"
He wanted to cut off funding to current projects, to pull back. It was a knee-jerk reaction, a move that would only confirm public suspicion. "I'm doing everything I can, Father! But cutting off funding to the very programs we publicly champion now will look even worse! And it won't fix the core issue!" I was losing my patience, my voice sharper than I usually allowed with him. The 'core issue' wasn't just PR; it was about genuine ethical breaches, something I knew, deep down, needed more than just a quick cover-up.
Then he hit me with it. "The Thorne Legacy Project, it's on hold. Indefinitely."
My gut clenched. The Legacy Project. Years of planning, years of my father grooming me, building this vision of a lasting, benevolent empire. It was supposed to be my path. To hear it halted, indefinitely, was a gut punch. It wasn't just a threat to the family name; it was a threat to my entire future, the one that had been laid out for me since birth. I was drowning under the weight of it all.
Just then, I caught a glimpse of movement outside the window. Elisa. She was walking by, head down. I hoped to God she hadn't overheard anything. She didn't need to know the true extent of the viper's nest I was caught in. She didn't need to see me like this, stripped bare of my usual control, desperate. This crisis was far beyond a scratched car, and it threatened to consume not just my family, but everyone remotely connected to us.