Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 318

That afternoon, the large conference hall buzzed with anticipation, a low hum of murmurs filled the air as journalists adjusted their microphones and tested their cameras.

Bright flashes from photographers sparked across the room, casting quick bursts of light on the polished podium set for the day’s speaker.

Rows of reporters, some from the most prestigious media houses and others from hungry online tabloids, filled every available seat.

Notepads flipped open, and fingers hovered over recording devices. The air felt charged—thick with curiosity.

The subject of their speculation was a man few had seen in public.

Steve Jacob.

The reclusive tycoon who rarely appeared in the spotlight had summoned them.

The internet was already flooded with theories—some claimed it was a business announcement, others speculated a scandal.

After all, Steve Jacob was a name synonymous with power and mystery.

The side doors opened.

Conversations halted as heads turned.

A tall, striking figure entered, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor.

He was dressed sharply—a tailored charcoal suit over a crisp white shirt, the top button left undone.

No tie. His face, chiseled with hard lines, was both commanding and guarded.

Thick lashes framed his cold, calculating eyes that seemed to miss nothing.

The silence that followed was absolute. He walked with a slow, unhurried stride, as if he owned every inch of the space.

Without a word, he stepped to the podium and adjusted the microphone.

His fingers, long and steady, tapped once to test the sound. The faint reverb echoed across the hall.

Then he spoke.

His voice was smooth but edged with steel.

“I appreciate you all coming here today.” His gaze swept across the room, landing on no one but capturing everyone.

“I don’t call press conferences often. In fact, I avoid them. But today, I have no choice.”

The reporters straightened, sensing something significant. Cameras zoomed in.

“This concerns Serena Winthrop, The CEO of Rocky’s Designs,” he stated, his voice clear and sharp.

“A woman who has been unjustly slandered and defamed.”

A flurry of hushed voices broke out—pens scratched furiously, fingers typing at lightning speed.

Serena Winthrop?

Steve’s jaw tightened.

“The Winters family has accused her of deception, released falsified images, and spread lies designed to break her. They’ve paraded manipulated photos, staged scandals, and even fabricated a false DNA report of her daughter.”

A reporter shot up a hand. “Mr. Jacob, are you saying the DNA test claiming Ryan Winters isn’t the father was fake?”

Steve’s gaze sharpened, his voice clipped. “Exactly. Fabricated. Tampered with. And I have the evidence to prove it.”

Gasps filled the room.

The cameras flashed in rapid succession, capturing every flicker of tension on his face.

“They did this,” Steve continued, his voice deepening with restrained anger, “because they believed they could. They thought their wealth and influence would bury her. It’s a game of power—an act of oppression against someone they see as defenseless.”

Another reporter called out, “Why are you defending her so strongly, Mr. Jacob? Are you involved with Miss Winthrop personally?”

Steve’s cold eyes met the reporter’s. “Because someone has to stand against injustice,” he replied, his voice firm and unshakable.

“And because she has no reason to lie. But let’s be clear—this isn’t just about her. It’s about power and accountability. If people like the Winters can crush someone innocent without consequence, who’s next?”

The room buzzed louder, the tension electric.

Reporters exchanged glances—this was bigger than they thought.

Meanwhile, far away in his office, Ryan Winters sat stiffly behind his glass desk, his eyes glued to the large flat-screen mounted on the wall.

His face was carved in stone, but his hand gripped the armrest so tightly his knuckles turned white.

There he was.

That man. The one who had barged into Serena’s office that day. Ryan’s jaw clenched as his eyes locked on Steve’s face.

But it wasn’t just recognition that made his blood boil.

It was what he saw. That face—those damn features. The sharp cheekbones. The same eyes—too similar to Amy’s.

A bitter, sour laugh escaped him.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat filled with disbelief and rage.

“So… that’s him,” he muttered, his voice laced with venom. “Her lover.”

The resemblance was undeniable, and it felt like a slap.

Ryan’s mind raced, his anger rising to a breaking point.

“Amy… she—” His throat felt tight. His fingers dug harder into the armrest.

“She tried to pass off another man’s child as mine?” His voice was low, dangerous, each word soaked in scorn.

He barely heard the rest of Steve’s speech.

The room around him faded. His vision tunneled—locked onto the man claiming Serena’s innocence.

The phone was in his hand before he realized it, and he called.

The line rang once. Twice. Again. His lips pressed into a thin line.

At home, Serena sat curled on her couch, her head tilted back, eyes shut.

The phone buzzed on the coffee table, and her heart sank when she saw the name. Ryan.

Her fingers hesitated. She didn’t want to pick up. Not after everything.

But the ringing persisted, each chime grating against her nerves.

With a sharp breath, she answered. “What do you want?” Her voice was flat, guarded.

Ryan’s voice lashed through the receiver, dripping with hostility.

“So, your lover is holding a press conference for you, huh?” His tone was sharp enough to cut.

“He’s out there spilling garbage to the world about fake DNA tests and oppression—trying to paint you as some helpless victim.”

Her heart jolted, but she kept her voice steady. “Wha—”

He was relentless, his anger scorching through every word as he cut her off.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t see it?” he snapped.

“Him—your hero, looking just like that child you swore was mine!” His voice lowered into something colder, more lethal.

“I should have known. I should have known what kind of woman you are.”

Her chest tightened painfully. “You’re twisting everything—”

“No!” he barked, cutting her off. “You twisted it. You lied. And you thought you could trap me with someone else’s child.”

She felt her throat burn, her fingers trembling around the phone. She tried to steady her voice. “Ryan…” But the words felt useless.

“You’re disgusting,” he seethed. “And pathetic.”

The blow landed deep, and something in her cracked.

Her fingers shook, but she refused to let him hear her break.

Her lips pressed together, and without another word, she ended the call.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The phone slipped from her hand onto the couch. Her pulse roared in her ears, and her eyes burned, but she wouldn’t cry.

Her chest heaved as she turned to the television and turned it on.

There—Steve was still on the screen, his voice steady, his eyes blazing with defiance for her.

She stared, her lips parting, her heart twisting with something raw and painful. “Steve…” she whispered.

She hadn’t asked for this.

She hadn’t expected it. Yet there he was—defending her. Shielding her from the world’s wrath once again.

Her fingers pressed against her lips, her breath uneven. He had already done so much for her.

He had saved her before—helped her rebuild her life from ruins and rescued her from police custody the previous night.

And now, he was doing it again.

Standing for her when no one else would. When even her Ex husband, Ryan…

Her eyes squeezed shut, her voice trembling in the silence. “Why, Steve… Why are you doing this for me again?”

“Do I deserve all of your kindness and support? Do I?”