The moment my husband’s mistress struck my five-year-old daughter hard enough to knock two baby teeth onto the marble floor, something inside me went completely still.

Three weeks later.

The sweltering Los Angeles heat beat down on the dusty pavement outside the federal bankruptcy court building downtown.

A massive public auction had been organized by the bankruptcy trustees to liquidate the personal belongings of Spencer Albright and Eleanor Albright to pay off their remaining millions in debt to former employees and creditors.

A large crowd of curiosity seekers, reporters, and bargain hunters gathered around the temporary stage where furniture, designer clothes, and jewelry were displayed under large white tents.

In the front row of the wooden folding chairs sat Eleanor Albright.

She no longer looked like the proud, aristocratic matriarch of Bel Air. Her silk dresses had been replaced by a faded gray polyester blouse she had bought at a thrift store. Her manicured hair was dry and messy, and her emerald rings were gone—confiscated by federal marshals.

Beside her stood Spencer, wearing an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit, his ankles shackled together, accompanied by two armed prison guards. He had been granted temporary release from his holding cell to oversee the liquidation of his remaining personal property.

"Item number 42!" the auctioneer shouted through his microphone. "A collection of vintage Italian leather armchairs and a mahogany dining set from the Bel Air estate! Bidding starts at five thousand dollars!"

"Five thousand!" a voice called out from the back.

"Six thousand!" another bid came.

Eleanor wept quietly into a paper tissue. "My beautiful furniture... my antique tea sets... everything we built, ruined..."

"Shut up, Mother," Spencer muttered bitterly, his hollow eyes staring at the ground. "This is all your fault anyway. You're the one who kept telling me Evelyn was a nobody. You told me to treat her like trash."

"I didn't know!" Eleanor sobbed, clutching her son's arm. "How could anyone know a billionaire heiress would hide in a guest room for six years making tea?!"

Suddenly, a sleek black Bentley drawn up to the curb beside the auction tents.

The rear door opened, and a sharp, elegant figure stepped out.

It was Thomas, holding a leather briefcase. He walked smoothly past the bidding crowd, stepping right up to the auctioneer's platform.

"Stop the bidding," Thomas said calmly, handing a cashier's check to the lead bankruptcy trustee.

The trustee looked at the check, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. "Fifty million dollars?!"

"The Vance Dynasty is purchasing every single item in this auction," Thomas announced through the microphone, his voice carrying clearly across the silent crowd. "Including the personal clothing, jewelry, and family portraits of the Albright family."

Spencer looked up, his jaw trembling. "What... what does Evelyn want with my clothes and portraits?!"

Thomas walked over to Spencer, looking down at the incarcerated former CEO with absolute pity.

"Miss Evelyn doesn't want them, Spencer," Thomas replied smoothly. "She bought them so they could be properly disposed of."

Thomas pointed toward the empty lot across the street. A massive industrial woodchipper and trash incinerator truck stood idling, its steel blades whirring with a terrifying, rhythmic crunch.

Two Vance estate workers immediately picked up Spencer's custom suits, Eleanor's designer gowns, and the massive gold-framed Albright family portrait, carrying them toward the incinerator.

CRUNCH! SHRED! FLAME!

In front of a hundred laughing spectators and dozens of news cameras, the last remnants of the proud Albright family legacy were fed into the blazing flames, turning into gray ash that drifted uselessly into the Los Angeles sky.

"No! My portraits! My suits!" Eleanor screamed, falling to her knees in the dust, clawing at the dirt as the crowd cheered and snapped photos.

Spencer stared at the burning ashes, his spirit completely and utterly broken.

Thomas leaned down, whispering a final message into Spencer's ear: "Miss Evelyn asked me to give you one final message before you begin your twenty-year prison sentence."