Five-year-old Clara crashed to the floor when Katherine violently shoved her out of the dining chair, sending water spilling everywhere. Katherine screamed with cruel contempt that the "filthy parasite" was dirtying her seat.

By Thursday afternoon, the executive conference room on the 42nd floor of Vance Retail had been converted into a command center for the state forensic accounting team. Reams of paper, digital storage arrays, and bank ledger printouts were stacked across the twenty-foot conference table.

Jocelyn sat at the head of the table, sipping black tea, listening attentively as David Chen, the lead forensic investigator, presented his findings.

“It’s far worse than simple mismanagement, Ms. Vance,” David said, clicking a remote to display a complex financial diagram on the wall-mounted monitor. “Over the past three years, Katherine Vance routed approximately fourteen point two million dollars through six fictitious shell companies registered in Delaware and the Cayman Islands.”

“Where did the money go?” Jocelyn asked.

“High-end luxury auctions, private yacht charters in Monaco, a luxury villa in St. Barts, and massive personal credit card settlements,” David explained, shaking his head in disbelief. “She wasn't just skimming profits; she was taking out high-interest mezzanine loans against Vance Retail’s operational capital to fund her extravagant lifestyle. To cover the shortfall, she forged your signature on internal authorization documents dating back to before you were ousted, trying to make it look like the debt originated from your old division.”

Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed into slits of dark amber. “She tried to frame me for her embezzlement.”

“Precisely,” David replied. “Had Sovereign Crest not audited these books, the IRS would have initiated criminal tax fraud charges against you within six months based on those doctored records.”

Before Jocelyn could respond, the double oak doors of the conference room burst open.

Richard and Eleanor Vance rushed inside, ignoring Marcus’s warning at the threshold. The past forty-eight hours had aged Richard by ten years; his tailored suit hung loosely on his shoulders, his tie was crooked, and his arrogant demeanor had completely collapsed into a state of frantic despair.

“Jocelyn! You have to stop this!” Richard cried out, his hands trembling as he reached toward the conference table. “The bank called this morning! They’ve frozen my personal accounts! They’re threatening to seize the family estate by the end of the month!”

Eleanor broke down in front of the auditors, falling to her knees beside Jocelyn’s leather chair, clutching the armrest. “Jocelyn, please! We are your parents! Have mercy on us! Katherine made a mistake, she’s foolish, but we didn't know! We swear to God, we didn't know she was stealing!”

Jocelyn looked down at her mother, whose tear-stained face was stripped of all the regal vanity she had paraded for decades.

“You didn't know?” Jocelyn said softly, each word landing like a hammer blow. “You lived off her stolen millions, Eleanor. Who paid for your diamond necklace at the Met Gala last spring? Who paid for Richard’s vintage wine cellar? You never asked where the money came from because you were too busy basking in the luxury Katherine showered you with.”

“We’ll give it all back!” Eleanor sobbed, burying her face into her hands. “We’ll sell the jewelry! We’ll sell the cars! Just call off the district attorney! If Katherine goes to prison, our family name is finished! People will laugh at us at the country club! We will be pariahs!”

Jocelyn stood up slowly, stepping out of Eleanor’s reach. She walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, looking out over the sprawling skyline of Manhattan.

“You still care about your reputation at the country club,” Jocelyn remarked, her tone filled with a chilling pity. “Even now, faced with total financial destruction, you don’t care that Katherine tried to frame me for federal crimes. You don’t care that Katherine assaulted your five-year-old granddaughter. Your only terror is what the socialites will whisper behind your backs.”

Richard stepped forward, his pride crumbling entirely as he bowed his head. “Jocelyn... what do you want from us? Tell us what you want! We’ll apologize to Clara! We’ll get down on our knees in front of that child! Just save our home!”

Jocelyn turned back to face them, her expression unreadable.