Devon felt his stomach drop. His father was right. This was too organized, too deliberate.
"But why?" Riley asked. "What does anyone gain from destroying Emery's reputation?"
No one had an answer.
"Regardless of who's behind it," Walter said, "we need to address it. And I think we need professional help." He looked at Riley. “That’s why I asked Declan to examine all the angles, and he’s going to need to speak with Emery.”
"You really think someone's orchestrating all of this?" Bryson asked.
"I think the timing is too convenient to be a coincidence," Walter said. "Emery's been in Stone Bridge for three days. In that time, we've had a damaging article, a public confrontation that was conveniently recorded, and details about her personal life that someone had to dig for. That's not bad luck. That's targeted."
Devon's mind raced. His father was right—this was an attack. But who would go to such lengths? And why? "What do we do about the article?" he asked.
Riley leaned forward. "We stick with the interview plan, but we address everything head-on. The photos, her father, and the confrontation with Harold. We don't hide from any of it."
"That's risky," Devon said. "The tasting room video makes her look like she’s spinning out of control.”
"It also makes Harold look defensive," Riley countered. "Sandy was there. She saw the whole thing. Grant and Erin, too. If we can get them on record saying Harold's reaction was suspicious, that he threatened legal action to shut Emery up—that changes the narrative from 'unstable woman making wild accusations' to 'whistleblower being silenced by a powerful man with something to hide.'"
"That's clever," Bryson admitted.
"The photos are still a problem," Walter said. "The timing. The article makes it look like Devon hired someone he was sleeping with."
"Then we own it," Riley said. "We acknowledge Devon helped her that night because she was in distress. We explain that the conversation led to recognizing her qualifications. We turn it from nepotism into networking—which is how most people find jobs anyway. And we're honest about the fact that they saw each other casually for a few months but ended things when the professional relationship began."
"And her father?" Devon asked.
“Again, it’s a reality we need to acknowledge, but we need some facts. Ultimately, Emery isn't responsible for her father's mistakes—just like we've always said Gabe isn't responsible for his grandfather's." Riley's expression was determined. "The key is controlling the narrative before it controls us."
Walter was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window at the vineyard beyond. "It could work. But it all depends on Emery. She has to be willing to open up about all of it—her father, that night with Devon, their relationship, theconfrontation with Harold. If she's not comfortable doing that, we need to respect her decision."
"Agreed," Devon said. "I need to talk to her first. This is her story to tell or not tell."
"Where is she now?" Bryson asked.
"In my office, working on authentication research," Walter replied. "She's been there since seven this morning, completely absorbed in the provenance documentation."
"Someone should warn her before she sees this online," Riley said gently.
Devon was already moving toward the door. "I'll talk to her. Figure out how she wants to handle this."
"Devon," Walter called after him. "Whatever she decides, we support her. United front. No wavering."
"Always."
"And son?" Walter's voice stopped him at the threshold. "I'm going to have Declan start digging today. Whoever's doing this—we're going to find out who and why. Nobody attacks our family without consequences."
Devon nodded, grateful for his father's protective instincts even as dread settled in his stomach. The article didn't just attack Emery's reputation—it systematically dismantled every defense she might have. Someone had orchestrated this perfectly. Every piece of ammunition carefully collected and deployed at precisely the right moment.
But who? And why target Emery specifically?
He pushed aside the questions as he made his way down the hallway. Right now, all that mattered was making sure Emery knew she wasn't facing this alone.
He knocked softly before opening his father's office door.
Emery sat at the desk, surrounded by open ledgers and vintage photographs, completely absorbed in her work. Shelooked up as he entered, her smile fading as she registered his expression.
"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.
