The ballroom of the Sterling Estate was a masterclass in aggressive opulence. Three hundred guests—a sea of black-tie attire, tuxedoed staff, and genuine diamonds—stood beneath crystal chandeliers that had been imported piece-by-piece from Versailles.

Two months later.

The scandal had settled. Genevieve was quietly pleading guilty in a closed federal court, the records sealed for "national economic security." The Vanguard stock hadn't just rebounded; it had skyrocketed, buoyed by the ruthless efficiency with which the company had purged a "rogue agent."

Arthur stood in the massive corner office of Vanguard Enterprises, looking out over the sprawling city. He wasn't the same man who had nervously stood behind his wife at the Equinox Ball.

His posture was rigid. His eyes were sharp. The boyish naivety had been burned away by the fire of betrayal.

The mahogany doors opened, and Victoria walked in. She looked at her son, noting the coldness in his gaze, the confident set of his jaw.

"The Sterling Media acquisition has been re-routed and finalized," Arthur said, not turning around. "I restructured the board. Two of the directors who panicked during the leak have been permanently forced into early retirement."