For my birthday, my husband saw fit to tie me to a beam and whip me thirty times because I had ruined his mistress's dress. "That’ll teach you to stay in your place," he chuckled in front of the Parisian elite. I didn't shed a single tear. When they finally untied me, I grabbed my phone and called my five brothers—former underworld kings turned legitimate businessmen. "I want his entire family begging for mercy," I whispered. And right then, the estate's massive gates locked shut on their own.

Isaac lay on the dining table, his chest heaving as the weight of total betrayal crushed what little pride he had left. He stared at the giant projection screen, listening to Chloé’s cruel, mocking laughter fill the grand hall of his ancestral estate.

"Chloé..." Isaac choked out, his voice cracking into a pathetic weep. "I... I bought you a apartment in the 16th arrondissement... I gave you my mother’s diamond bracelet..."

Chloé, realized the game was entirely up, dropped her innocent facade instantly. Her eyes hardened into ice, her mouth twisting into a bitter, sneering line as she spat onto the marble floor.

"Shut up, you pathetic little worm!" Chloé snapped, her voice dropping all its breathy softness. "Did you really think a girl like me would ever touch a spineless, arrogant creature like you for free? You’re half the man your wife is! You couldn't even manage your father's business without paying three different consultancy firms to do your thinking for you!"

Valérie let out a choked gasp of outrage, lunging toward Chloé with her manicured nails outstretched. "You viper! You filthy little street whore! You ruined my son!"

"I didn't ruin him, old woman!" Chloé screamed back, struggling against the iron grip of Léo’s operatives. "He ruined himself! He was so insecure about his wife’s dignity that he jumped into my bed the second I smiled at him! He’s a weak, fragile little boy who needs to whip women to feel powerful!"

"Enough," Noah’s voice boomed through the room like a crack of thunder, instantly silencing the screaming women.

Noah looked down at Isaac, his eyes cold and unblinking. "You threw away a queen for a viper, Isaac. And now you have neither."

Caleb stepped forward, holding a sleek manila folder pulled from his coat. He opened it, looking down at a series of certified bank records.

"Oh, it gets better, Noah," Caleb said with a dark chuckle. "Chloé didn't just leak the architectural blueprints. Three weeks ago, she authorized a series of offshore transfers using Isaac’s forged digital signature. She emptied the Vance family’s private trust account in Liechtenstein—the four million euros Isaac’s father set aside for his retirement."

Arthur Vance let out a low, strangled rattle from his throat. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed sideways onto a velvet chaise lounge, clutching his left arm.

"Arthur!" Valérie shrieked, dropping to her knees beside her husband. "Arthur! Speak to me! My God, someone call an ambulance!"

Julien adjusted his glasses, looking down at the dying patriarch with absolute indifference.

"There is an ambulance parked outside the main gates, Mrs. Vance," Julien said calmly. "It belongs to my private medical service. It will cost exactly four million euros for them to step onto this property. Oh... wait. You don't have four million euros anymore, do you?"

Valérie began to sob hysterically, slapping the marble floor with her diamond-encrusted hands. "You are monsters! You are all heartless monsters!"

I stepped out from behind Noah, walking slowly toward Valérie. The soft velvet of my coat brushed against the gold trim of her dress as I knelt down, bringing my face level with hers.

The woman who had spent five years calling me a "gutter orphan," the woman who had sat by the champagne fountain ten minutes ago laughing while her son whipped my back, was now shivering like a wet rat at my feet.

"Do you remember what you told me three hours ago, Valérie?" I whispered softly into her ear.

Valérie’s breath hitched in her throat. She couldn't meet my eyes.

"You said I came from the gutter," I reminded her, my voice gentle as a lullaby. "You said I ought to be thanking you on my knees for letting me set foot on your carpets."

I stood up slowly, looking down at her from my full height.

"Look around you, Valérie," I said, sweeping my arm across the magnificent drawing room, the shattered crystal, the glowing crash charts on the wall, the tactical guards standing at every exit. "This carpet doesn't belong to you anymore. This manor doesn't belong to you. Your son is going to prison, your husband is ruined, and your life’s work is dust."