Nineteen blows were enough to teach me that my husband no longer saw me as his wife. When Adrian raised the belt for the twentieth time, I caught it in my palm, stood up in front of the mistress who had engineered the entire scene, and called the one man I had spent three years pretending I didn’t need. “Dad,” I said, looking Adrian directly in the eyes. “You were right. Take everything back.”

A collective gasp echoed across the Grand Ballroom.

Adrian froze, his thumb desperately pounding the remote button. "What... what is this?! Vanessa! Fix it!"

On the massive screen, the red text began to multiply at blinding speed.

DELETING PRIMARY DATABASE... DELETING BACKUP SERVERS... DELETING EXECUTIVE ACCOUNT REPOSITORIES... WIPING MERCER DYNAMICS CLOUD INFRASTRUCTURE: 100% COMPLETE.

The screen went pitch black.

Then, a high-resolution document appeared in its place.

It was a bank ledger—a certified forensic audit document bearing the official seal of the United States Treasury Department.

Across the top of the screen, displayed in massive white letters for five hundred world leaders, reporters, and investors to see, was a detailed breakdown of Vanessa Vale’s personal offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.

The document showed over fourteen million dollars transferred directly from Mercer Dynamics' corporate development fund into Vanessa’s private accounts over the past eighteen months—along with digital receipts showing she had purchased three million dollars in short options against Mercer Dynamics' stock two days ago.

"Look at the screen!" a reporter yelled, pointing frantically. "She wasn't just his mistress—she was shorting his company and draining the treasury!"

"She framed Claire Hart to cover up her own embezzlement!" another analyst shouted, typing furiously on his laptop.

Vanessa, standing near the edge of the stage in her red dress, screamed as fifty camera lenses immediately pivoted from Adrian to her face.

"No! Turn it off! Turn off the screen!" Vanessa shrieked, covering her face with her hands, backing toward the backstage exit.

"You bitch!" Adrian roared on stage, completely forgetting where he was, forgetting the cameras, forgetting the live broadcast being streamed to four million financial traders worldwide. He lunged across the podium, grabbing Vanessa by her red silk collar, shaking her violently. "You stole my money?! You drained the company accounts?!"

"Let go of me, you pathetic loser!" Vanessa spat, slapping Adrian hard across the face with a sound like a pistol shot. "You hit your wife with a belt yesterday because you were stupid enough to believe me! You deserve everything you get! You’re ruined, Adrian! Ruined!"

The entire ballroom descended into utter madness. Security guards rushed the stage to pull them apart, while photoflashes lit up the chaotic brawl like a thunderstorm.

I sat quietly in my front-row seat, taking another small sip of my champagne.

Beside me, Arthur Sterling leaned over, his voice quiet and dry.