When I slapped my husband’s mistress, he broke my leg. He locked me in the basement, telling me to reflect.

I called my dad, who was a gangster boss, and said, “Dad, don’t let a single one of the family survive.”

After I slapped my husband’s mistress, he broke my leg and threw me in the basement. So I called my father, the head of the Romano crime family. “Dad,” I said, “don’t leave a single one of them alive.”

It was our third wedding anniversary. I wanted to surprise Ethan, so I cut my trip to New York Fashion Week short. When I opened the door to our Greenwich mansion, the sharp click of my stilettos echoed on the imported Italian marble. A woman’s stockings and lingerie were strewn across the living room, a trail leading up to our master bedroom on the second floor. My heart began to pound and a cold sweat broke out on my palms.

But foolishly, I clung to a sliver of hope. Maybe our housekeeper was just cleaning the room. That hope shattered the moment I heard familiar moans from the bedroom.

“Ethan, what if your wife comes back early?” Khloe’s voice was sickeningly sweet.

“Don’t worry,” Ethan grunted, his breathing heavy with an excitement I had never heard before. “She’s in New York. She won’t be back until tomorrow. And so what if she does? That broke designer. I’m the one who pays for everything anyway.”

I stood outside the door, my entire body trembling. Khloe Vance, my best friend from college, was in my bed with my husband. The last three years I had dedicated to our family were reduced to me being a freeloader in his eyes.

The last thread of my sanity snapped. I kicked the door open. The horrific sight of two pale bodies tangled together burned into my eyes as Ethan scrambled off Khloe’s body.

Khloe screamed, pulling the sheets over herself, but a provocative smirk lingered on her face.

“Sophia, listen to me,” Ethan started. “This is all a misunderstanding.”

“Shut up.” I swung my hand at her face with all my strength. Khloe’s head snapped to the side. Her perfectly sculpted nose was now crooked and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

“Sophia, are you crazy?” Ethan leaped from the bed and punched me hard in the stomach. The pain buckled my knees, but I forced my head up, glaring at him through the tears.

“Ethan, how could you do this to me?”

“How could I? You deserved this.” He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me toward the grand staircase. “Who the hell do you think you are? Marrying into my family was the greatest honor of your life, you pathetic designer. How dare you hit Khloe? Her father is the CEO of Vance Industries.”

Even through the searing pain of my scalp being torn, a laugh escaped my lips. “So that’s it. You cheated because her family has more money than mine. Have you forgotten who stood by you when you started your company from scratch?”

“Shut your mouth!” He shoved me in a fit of rage. I lost my balance and tumbled down the stairs. My right leg slammed into a decorative corner post. A horrifying crack echoed through the mansion, followed by an agony so intense that my vision went black.

“Stop the drama and get up,” Ethan sneered, walking down the stairs to kick my injured leg. I screamed, my back instantly drenched in a cold sweat.

“Ethan, I think her leg is broken,” Khloe said, wrapped in a bed sheet, her face pale as she stared at my twisted limb.

“What a nuisance!” Ethan muttered, then grabbed my arms and dragged me toward the basement. “Let her cool off down there. Maybe she’ll learn her place.”

I nearly passed out from the pain, but I bit my lip to keep from making another sound. As I was thrown into the damp, dark basement, I heard Ethan tell the housekeeper, “Don’t give her anything to eat. Let her reflect on what she did for the next 24 hours.” The heavy steel door slammed shut and darkness consumed everything.

I huddled in a corner. My right leg was already swollen beyond recognition, and the pain made me lose all sense of time. How long had it been? I felt for the phone in my pocket. Miraculously, it wasn’t broken. At the very bottom of my contacts list was a number I hadn’t touched in 20 years, saved under a single word: Dad. I pressed the call button.

After three rings, a low, authoritative voice answered. “Yeah?”

“Dad.” My voice was a raw, broken whisper. “It’s me, Sophia.”

Silence stretched for a few seconds on the other end. Then I heard the sound of a chair crashing to the floor, followed by an urgent voice. “Sophia, where are you? What happened?”

“My husband broke my leg and he locked me in the basement.” Each word was like swallowing glass. “Dad, help me.”

“Send me your address. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

Before the line went dead, I heard him yelling to get the car ready. With trembling hands, I sent my location. And then suddenly, I started to laugh. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. Ethan, that fool. He thought I was just some ordinary designer. He had no idea who my father was.

My mother had told me on her deathbed: my father was Vincenzo Romano, the Don of the syndicate, a crime family that held sway not just over New York, but across the country. My mother hadn’t wanted me to be part of that life. So she left him and raised me alone. I, too, had vowed to live without my family’s influence, never even telling my father I had gotten married. And what did all that noble pride get me?

In less than 10 minutes, I heard frantic footsteps and sounds of a struggle from upstairs. The basement door was kicked open in a single blow. A burly man in a black suit rushed into the blinding light.

“Miss Sophia,” he said. “I’m Marco. The Don sent me to get you.”

He knelt, examining my leg, and his face hardened. “These bastards.”

As Marco gently lifted me into his arms, I saw two of Ethan’s security guards lying unconscious at the top of the stairs. Upstairs, Ethan and Khloe were on their knees, held down by several other men in black suits, their faces masks of terror.

“Sophia, who are these people? What are you doing?” Ethan screamed, struggling against his captors.

Leaning weakly against Marco’s shoulder, I gave him a bloodstained smile. “Let me introduce you. This is my father’s right-hand man. And as for who my father is, you’ll find out soon enough, Ethan.”

As Marco carried me toward a limousine waiting outside, I heard Khloe’s hysterical shriek. “That’s impossible. Sophia said her father died years ago!”

Inside the car, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair was waiting anxiously. When he saw my mangled state, a chilling, murderous glint appeared in his eyes.

“Sophia,” he said, voice like ice. “Dad will break both of his legs. Leave no one from the Vance family standing.”

As Marco carried me out of the basement, the early summer sun was so bright I had to squint. The excruciating pain from my right leg made me bite my lower lip until I tasted blood.

“Just hold on a little longer, Miss Sophia.” Marco’s voice was calm and steady. The faint scent of gunpowder mixed with his cologne was strangely reassuring. Behind us, Ethan’s shouts faded. “This is breaking and entering! I’m calling the police! Sophia, what kind of monsters have you brought here?”

I didn’t even bother to look back. Marco’s men would handle it. The limousine door opened, and for the first time in 20 years, I came face to face with my father, Vincenzo Romano. He looked much older than I remembered; his hair was grayer, but his hawk-like eyes were as sharp as ever. Those eyes were now fixed on my twisted leg.

“Sophia.” His voice trembled slightly. He reached for my leg, then stopped his hand midair. “Marco, get us to St. Jude’s Medical Center. Tell Dr. Evans to prep an operating room.”

I was gently placed on the plush leather seat of the luxury sedan. My father propped my leg up with a cushion. He pressed a button, raising the soundproof partition between the front and back seats.

“Who did this?” His question was short, his voice like arctic ice.

“My husband, Ethan,” I said with a bitter laugh. “I caught him cheating with my friend Khloe Vance. This is what happened.”

My father’s eyes were like the sea before a hurricane—calm on the surface but concealing a destructive force. He took out his phone and dialed a number. “Get me everything on Ethan Hayes and Khloe Vance. Yes, the daughter of Richard Vance. Good. Don’t touch them yet. Wait for my orders.”

Hanging up, he turned to me. “Why didn’t you call me sooner? After your mother left, I never stopped looking for you.”

“Mom didn’t want me involved with the syndicate,” I said weakly. “I went to design school, got a job at a famous firm. I thought I could live a normal life.”

A muscle twitched in my father’s jaw. “And you ended up with a beast who breaks your legs.”

I couldn’t say anything. The city skyline blurred past the window just like the last three foolish years of my marriage.

At the VIP entrance of St. Jude’s, a team of doctors was already waiting. Dr. Evans, one of the top orthopedic surgeons in the country, personally pushed my gurney into the elevator. My father held my hand the entire way to the operating room. His hand was rough but warm.

The surgery was a success. When I woke up, I was in a hospital suite that looked like a five-star hotel room. My right leg was in a cast, elevated by a sling. Outside the window, the glittering city lights stretched to the horizon. My father was sitting on the sofa by my bed, reading through a file. Under the lamplight, his profile looked exceptionally cold and hard.

“Dad,” I called out softly.

He immediately put the file down and came to my side. “How are you feeling? Dr. Evans said the surgery went perfectly, but you’ll be off your feet for at least two months.”

“Thank you.” I hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Ethan and the others?”

“Marco took care of it,” he said, a ruthless glint in his eyes. “Your husband thought we were just some street thugs screaming about pressing charges.”

I let out a laugh, then winced as the pain flared up. “That fool, Ethan.” He had no idea who he had crossed. The syndicate wasn’t just a gang; it was a shadow power that moved pieces in politics and business across the country. Even high-ranking government officials trod carefully around my father.

“Sophia, I want to hear what you think,” my father said softly, sitting beside me. “The syndicate’s way, Ethan Hayes would be at the bottom of the Hudson River by now.”

I closed my eyes. I remembered the day I first met Ethan three years ago. He was a young entrepreneur just starting out. He waited outside my office for a month, begging me to design the logo for his new company. He said my designs had soul. He said he’d never met a woman as special as me.

“I’m going to make him feel a pain worse than death,” I said. My voice was cold as ice when I opened my eyes. “The Hayes family may look like legitimate real estate developers, but they built their fortune on loan sharking and illegal demolitions. I’m going to make Ethan watch it all come crashing down right before his eyes, until there is nothing left. Just like he did to me.”

A satisfied smile touched my father’s lips. He pulled a thick file from his suit jacket. “Perfect timing. My people just found out the Hayes family is betting everything on a bid for the new East River development project. Their bid is full of inflated numbers.” He flipped through the pages, pointing to one. “And what’s more interesting is that your husband embezzled three million dollars of company funds to launder at a casino in Atlantic City. He still hasn’t filled that hole.”

I took the file. My heart started to race. This evidence alone was enough to send Ethan to prison, enough to make Hayes Construction stock plummet.

“Dad, I need time,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to pretend to forgive him. I’ll go back to that house and gather more evidence.”

“It’s too dangerous,” my father said, frowning.

“Please,” I insisted, taking his hand. “I need to destroy him with my own hands.”

After a long silence, my father finally nodded. “All right, but Marco will be by your side 24/7.”

He pressed the call button and Marco, who had been waiting outside, entered the room.

“From this day on, my life belongs to Miss Sophia,” Marco said, kneeling on one knee and presenting me with a specially made satellite phone. “Miss Sophia, my direct line and the Don’s emergency numbers are saved in here. If you’re in any danger, press this red button. We’ll be there in under three minutes.”

I took the phone. Its heavy weight felt like the key to a new life.

A few days later, a terrified-looking Ethan appeared at my hospital room door. His suit was wrinkled and dark circles hung under his eyes. He clearly hadn’t slept in days.

“Sophia.” His voice trembled. He was holding a pathetic bouquet of carnations. “I had no idea your father was Don Vincenzo Romano.”

I composed my face into a look of weary forgiveness. “It’s my fault, too, Ethan. I shouldn’t have hit Khloe.”

Ethan rushed to my bedside as if I’d thrown him a lifeline. “Sophia, does this mean you forgive me? I must have been out of my mind. It was all Khloe’s fault. She seduced me. I swear it will never happen again.”

His clumsy acting made me want to throw up the soup I’d had for breakfast. But the play had to go on.

“You’ve already gotten an earful from my father, haven’t you? Let’s just put this behind us,” I said softly. “When I get out of here, we can start over.”

“Okay.” Ethan nodded frantically, unable to hide his relief.

He had no idea that as he held my hand with his phony sincerity, a hidden camera in the room was recording his every expression.

On the day of my discharge, my father sent a motorcade of ten black Mercedes to escort me back to the Hayes mansion. The spectacle was so over the top it made the local news.

Ethan stood at the front door, his face pale as he watched Marco himself push my wheelchair inside.

“If even a single scratch appears on Miss Sophia,” Marco whispered in Ethan’s ear just loud enough for me to hear, “the Don said he wants to watch you get eaten alive by wild dogs.”

Ethan’s legs trembled and he looked like he was about to wet himself.

Returning to the place I once called home felt disgusting. The bed in our bedroom was especially repulsive. Ethan had changed the sheets, but I could vividly picture him and Khloe writhing on it.

“Sophia, you should rest. I have an urgent matter at the office,” Ethan said, pouring me a glass of water before trying to make a quick exit.

“Okay. Come home early,” I said with a smile, watching him leave. The moment he was gone, I poured the water into a potted plant.

Marco stood guard outside my door while I opened my laptop and got to work. As Ethan’s wife, I knew the passwords to all his devices. I logged into his cloud account and quickly found what I was looking for—hotel booking records for the last six months, bank transfer histories, and even a few videos that were hard to watch.

“You animal,” I muttered with a cold smile, saving the evidence.

Just then, a new message popped up on his screen. It was from Khloe: “Ethan, thank God she believed you. I’ll wait for you at our usual spot. I miss you like crazy, baby.”

I stared at the screen, then laughed out loud. Ethan, you couldn’t even wait three days. Perfect. This will make my revenge all the more satisfying.

I picked up the satellite phone and called my father. “Dad, I think it’s time to start quietly buying up shares of Hayes Construction. Yes, so no one notices.”

After hanging up, I looked out the window at the bright sunlight. I once believed love was everything. I had willingly hidden my own light to become Ethan’s shadow. But that naive Sophia was shattered just like her broken leg.

From now on, I would make it perfectly clear to everyone what happens when you cross the daughter of the Romano family.

“Miss Sophia, are you really going to do this?” Marco asked, standing at the door of my walk-in closet with a frown.

I adjusted an earring in front of the full-length mirror. The woman in the reflection wore a deep crimson dress, her red lips as vivid as blood. I had traded the cast on my right leg for an intricate metal brace which peeked out from beneath the slit of my dress.

“Of course,” I said, turning to face him. “The Hayes family is throwing an anniversary party. As the lady of the house, I can’t possibly miss it.”

Marco started to say something, then closed his mouth. In the two weeks since I had returned home, I had seemingly reconciled with Ethan. But behind the scenes, using my father’s connections, I had already acquired three percent of Hayes Construction stock and was in contact with two minority shareholders willing to sell.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from my father: “Julian Croft has arrived in New York. He will attend the party tonight as a guest. He has what you need.”

The corner of my mouth lifted into a slight smile. Julian Croft—the son of my father’s old friend—a financial prodigy from Wall Street. He was the man in charge of the syndicate’s legitimate investments. With his help, my plan would take flight.

“Miss Sophia, the car is ready.” Marco handed me a silver USB drive. “The video you requested has been processed.”

I slipped the USB into my clutch. The cool touch of the metal glinted under the light just like the cold resolve in my heart.

The party celebrating both the founding of Hayes Construction and our anniversary was held at the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan. The moment I entered the ballroom on Ethan’s arm, hundreds of eyes turned to us. They were filled with curiosity, surprise, and mostly the eager anticipation of a public spectacle. The scandal of a tycoon’s wife exposing her husband’s affair with her best friend had spread like wildfire through the city’s elite.

“Sophia, you look stunning tonight,” Ethan whispered in my ear. His hot breath on my neck made my stomach churn. I suppressed my disgust and gave him a radiant smile.

“It’s an important night. I can’t have you losing face, can I?”

Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. The gentle, understanding demeanor I had shown for the past two weeks, even convincing my father to forgive him, had clearly convinced him that I had forgotten everything. The foolish man.

My father-in-law and mother-in-law approached, their faces plastered with awkward smiles. After learning my true identity, the social-climbing couple’s attitude had done a complete 180.

“My dear, how is your leg?” my father-in-law, William Hayes, said, wringing his hands. “Ethan can be so thoughtless. We’re so grateful for your understanding.”

I responded with a smile and scanned the room. I soon spotted Khloe Vance by the champagne tower. She was wearing a white lace dress that made her look like a cheap wedding cake. She shot me a look full of resentment.

“I need to go say hello to an old friend,” I said, releasing Ethan’s arm and making my way toward Khloe, leaning on a cane.

Khloe’s face went pale and she instinctively took a step back.

“Khloe, it’s been a while.” My voice was just loud enough for a few people nearby to hear. “White suits you. You look just like the ghost you played in our college play.”

A few stifled laughs broke out around us. Khloe’s face turned from white to a furious red.

“Sophia, don’t be so smug. Ethan is only with you because he’s afraid of your father.”

I silenced her by placing my index finger on her lips. “Let’s not spoil the mood on such an important night.”

I leaned in and whispered in her ear for her alone to hear. “There’s going to be a fun little show later. Make sure you keep your composure.”

Before she could react, I turned away gracefully and came face to face with Julian Croft, who had just entered the ballroom. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s behind gold-rimmed glasses.

“Miss Romano, I’ve heard a great deal about you,” he said, lightly kissing the back of my hand. “The Don speaks very highly of his daughter.”

“Mr. Croft,” I smiled. “I was hoping we could speak for a moment after the party.”

“It would be my honor.”

We parted with an unspoken agreement. As the party got into full swing, William Hayes took the stage to boast about the glorious achievements of Hayes Construction, conveniently omitting any mention of a three-million-dollar hole in their finances. I sat at the head table playing the part of the perfect wife, maintaining a graceful smile and occasionally straightening my husband’s tie.

“Finally, I want to thank my daughter-in-law, Sophia, for her understanding and grace,” William suddenly announced. “Everyone makes mistakes when they’re young. What’s important is that the family remains strong. Now, let’s all raise a glass to this lovely couple.”

Everyone raised their glasses. I lowered my head to hide the contempt in my eyes, then looked up with a warm smile. Ethan, seemingly moved, took my hand.

“Sophia, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“You won’t need a lifetime,” I said softly. “You can start right now.”

Leaving him with a puzzled look, I took my cane and slowly walked up to the stage, taking the microphone from the MC.

“Thank you all for attending our anniversary party despite your busy schedules.” My voice was clear and steady. “As the wife in this family, I’ve prepared a special gift.”

I gestured toward the lighting booth. The ballroom lights dimmed and a massive screen slowly descended from the ceiling. Ethan’s face tensed, a sense of dread dawning on him.

“No, Sophia, please don’t—”

He tried to rush the stage to stop me, but Marco appeared behind him, his hand clamping down on Ethan’s shoulder like a vice, holding him in place.

“Enjoy the show, darling,” I said, pressing a button on the remote.

The high-definition screen lit up with a crystal-clear video of Ethan and Khloe writhing on my marital bed, complete with graphic audio. A date stamp in the bottom right corner showed it was filmed while I was in the hospital with my broken leg. They couldn’t even wait three days.

The ballroom erupted into chaos. Khloe screamed and ran for the exit, but was blocked by security. My father-in-law’s face turned ashen, and my mother-in-law fainted on the spot.

“But that’s just the beginning,” I announced, switching the screen. Bank statements and casino surveillance footage appeared. “My husband embezzled three million dollars of company money to gamble in Atlantic City, which caused the East River development project to stall, leaving hundreds of displaced residents on the streets.”

Finally, I played an audio recording of Ethan on the phone with the head of a demolition crew: “I don’t care if one or two of them die. The important thing is that the site is cleared by tomorrow.”

The ballroom fell dead silent. I walked step by step toward the ashen-faced Ethan.

“For three years of our marriage, I secured seven major projects for you. My designs won awards and raised Hayes Construction stock price by thirty percent.” My voice was quiet but sharp as a razor. “And what you gave me in return was betrayal, violence, and humiliation.”

Ethan’s legs gave out and he collapsed to his knees. “Sophia, I’m so sorry. I was wrong—”

“But I forgive you,” I suddenly raised my voice, turning to the stunned guests, “because I am just that loving of a wife.”

The room buzzed with confusion once more. My father-in-law, as if granted a pardon, scrambled onto the stage and snatched the microphone.

“It’s a misunderstanding. It’s all a misunderstanding. As you can see, my daughter-in-law has forgiven my son. Now, everyone, please enjoy the party.”

I descended from the stage gracefully, walking through a sea of complicated stares toward the corner where Julian Croft was waiting. He handed me a glass of champagne, his eyes behind his glasses shining with admiration.

“A magnific—beth almost,” he murmured.

“It’s just the beginning,” I said, taking a sip. “Did you bring the files?”

Julian produced a folder from his briefcase. “The complete shareholding structure of Hayes Construction and their real financial statements from the last three years. They’re much more interesting than what’s been made public.”

I opened the folder. My pupils contracted. The company’s actual debt was more than three times the reported amount, and a massive sum of money had vanished through a series of shell corporations.

“This is more than enough for a short sale.”

“More than enough,” Julian smiled. “I’ve already contacted three firms that specialize in short-selling. They’re just waiting for your signal.”

The party continued in a bizarre atmosphere. Ethan followed me around like a kicked dog, endlessly begging for my forgiveness. I maintained a dignified smile the entire time, looking for all the world like a gracious wife embracing her wayward husband.

My dear William Hayes pulled me aside, wiping the sweat from his brow. “The board of directors—”

“Don’t worry, Father,” I said, affectionately taking his arm. “I’ve already told my father to halt his purchase of Hayes Construction stock. We’re family, after all.”

He let out a long sigh of relief. He had no idea that I already owned five percent of the company through an offshore corporation. With the eight percent I was set to acquire from the two minority shareholders, I was already the fourth-largest shareholder in Hayes Construction.

After the party, Julian drove me back to the Greenwich mansion. Marco sat in the passenger seat, ever vigilant.

“Hayes Construction stock will plummet next week,” Julian analyzed. “The combination of the scandal you exposed tonight and the pressure from our short sellers will send it into a nosedive for at least three consecutive trading days.”

“Good,” I said, watching the city lights flash by. “When it hits rock bottom, we’ll buy up everything.”

When the car stopped in front of the mansion, Julian suddenly asked, “Did you really forgive him?”

I smiled wryly and pointed to my right leg, still in its brace. “Mr. Croft, do you believe in loving your enemy?”

“No.”

“Funny,” I said. “Neither do I.”

Inside the mansion, Ethan was on his knees in the living room, crying like a child. Looking down at him, I found the situation endlessly amusing. This was the man I once loved—this cowardly, despicable, spineless piece of trash.

“Sophia, I was wrong. I was so, so wrong,” he sobbed, grabbing my leg and smearing tears and snot on my expensive dress.

I stroked his hair gently as if patting a dog. “Ethan, let’s start over.”

He looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“But I need to see that you’re sincere. I hear Khloe’s father is also bidding on that new Northshore development project.”

Ethan immediately understood. “I’ll cut all ties with the Vance family tomorrow. I promise.”

“Good boy,” I said, patting his cheek a couple of times. “Now go to bed. You have work tomorrow.”

After Ethan scurried upstairs, thanking me a thousand times, I went into his study and locked the door. I called my father.

“Dad, it’s time to start the next phase. Yes, I need the evidence on the Vance family smuggling operation.”

After the call, I turned on my computer and re-watched the video from the party, pausing on the frame where Ethan was kneeling and begging for forgiveness. I casually hit the delete key. This is just the beginning. My dear husband, you’re about to learn that losing everything is a far greater pain than any physical wound.

Three days after the party fiasco, I was sitting in the dining room elegantly eating blueberry pancakes. My leg brace had been replaced with a much lighter model. Ethan came down the stairs, his tie askew and dark circles under his eyes.

“Coffee?” I offered, pushing a steaming latte toward him.

He eyed the cup with suspicion and refused. “No thanks. I have an urgent meeting.”

I shrugged and took a sip myself. Ethan’s recent behavior was quite amusing. In public, he was subservient, but when we were alone, he wouldn’t even touch food that I had handled. Marco’s warning had clearly been effective.

“Oh, by the way,” I called out as he was about to leave, “there’s a charity auction at the club in SoHo tonight. I donated that PC Philippe watch of yours. You don’t mind, right?”

Ethan’s face stiffened. “But that watch was my grandfather’s.”

“I know. It’s a limited edition,” I said with a sweet smile, “which means it will sell for a much higher price. It’s already been announced to the press: ‘Young heir of Hayes Construction donates family heirloom to help the less fortunate.’ It’s great PR.”

He clenched and unclenched his fists, then forced a smile that was more like a grimace. “Of course, I don’t mind.”

As I watched him flee, I checked the security camera feed on my phone. The moment Ethan got into his car, he was frantically making a call. Ten to one, he was complaining to Khloe. Though they had supposedly cut ties after the party, they were clearly still in contact.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from Julian: “Short sellers are ready. Hayes Construction stock hit limit down at market open this morning.”

A satisfied smile spread across my face. The party video had been leaked online and the scandal was trending nationwide. The board had requested a trading halt, but it was too late to stop the freefall.

Marco appeared silently at the dining room door. “Miss Sophia, the car is ready.”

“I have a checkup at the hospital first. Then we’re going to that private investigator my father recommended.”

In the hospital corridor, I ran into an unexpected person—Khloe. She was wearing sunglasses and a mask, cautiously exiting the obstetrics and gynecology clinic. I quickly ducked around a corner and discreetly took a photo of her receipt as she paid: positive pregnancy test.

Zooming in on the photo, I couldn’t help but laugh. It seemed Ethan’s groveling at the party had borne fruit after all. A little devil was truly growing inside Khloe’s belly.

After my checkup, I had Marco drive to a run-down office building on the outskirts of the city. The elevator took us to the top floor. The doors opened to an office crammed with electronic equipment. A skinny man in a plaid shirt was staring intently at six monitors simultaneously.

“Miss Sophia, they call me K,” he said without turning around. “I’ve got everything the Don asked me to find right here.”

K played several surveillance videos. They showed Ethan and Khloe enjoying a rendezvous at a motel on the edge of town just yesterday afternoon.

“And here’s something more interesting.” K switched screens. Now it showed Khloe’s father, Richard Vance, and Ethan’s father, William Hayes, meeting secretly at an exclusive cigar lounge. “They meet here regularly. On the 15th of every month. Have been for at least five years.”

My eyes narrowed. “Can you record their conversation?”

“That’s difficult,” K said, scratching his head. “That place has military-grade security.”

“Use this.” I took a fountain pen from my purse—a gift from my father. “Next time they meet, bribe a waiter to plant this on Richard Vance.”

K took the pen, his eyes lighting up. “A state-of-the-art listening device. I didn’t know the Don had access to these.”

Leaving the PI’s office, I called my father. “Dad, Khloe’s pregnant. No, don’t touch her yet. That baby might be useful. Oh, and Richard Vance and William Hayes have been meeting regularly. Something’s not right.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end. “Sophia, the relationship between the Vances and the Hayes might be more complicated than you think. It goes back twenty years.”

“Twenty years ago? What happened twenty years ago?” I pressed, but my father, for the first time, sounded hesitant.

“I’ll find out for sure and let you know. Tonight at the auction, be careful around that Khloe girl.”

I hung up, lost in thought. My father was definitely hiding something, and my gut told me it had to do with my mother.

That evening, I changed into a dress from Chanel’s latest collection and asked my makeup artist for a fragile beauty look—elegant but pitiful. Marco presented me with a jewelry box from the Don. Inside lay a diamond necklace with a rare black pearl at its center. I remembered seeing this necklace in a photograph of my mother.

When we arrived at the club, Marco asked, “Miss Sophia, shall I accompany you inside?”

“No, you wait in the car. I can handle tonight’s performance on my own.”

The charity auction at the exclusive social club was always a major event for the city’s elite. The moment I entered, the noisy hall fell silent. Soon, whispers erupted from all corners.

“That’s the Hayes Construction daughter-in-law.”

“I heard her father runs the entire East Coast underworld.”

“That Ethan Hayes must be blind, throwing her over for someone like Khloe Vance.”

I pretended not to hear and walked to my reserved seat at the front. As soon as I sat down, a heavy perfume assaulted my nostrils.

“Sophia, long time no see.” Khloe had appeared beside me. She was wearing a white dress, intentionally emphasizing her slightly rounded belly. “I heard you’re still having trouble with your leg. Such a shame.”

I smiled and looked at her stomach. “You must be about three months along. You should be careful in your first trimester.”

Khloe’s face tightened slightly. She clearly hadn’t expected me to know about her pregnancy.

“Ethan is so excited about this baby,” she said, lowering her voice, a malicious glint in her eyes. “He’s going to divorce you as soon as the baby is born.”

“Is that so?” I took a tablet out of my clutch and played a video. “Then what do you make of this conversation from yesterday afternoon?”

In the video, Ethan was frantically running his hands through his hair. “Why now, of all times? My father is forbidding me from seeing you. The company’s stock is crashing. And if that crazy wife of mine finds out I’m still talking to you, I’m finished.”

Khloe’s face turned ashen. “You—you… how did you—?”

“You didn’t even bother to close the curtains in room 308 of that motel,” I sighed. “If you’re going to cheat, at least cover the basics, my friend.”

The other guests couldn’t hear our conversation, but Khloe’s near-fainting state was drawing plenty of attention. I stood up and deliberately raised my voice.

“Khloe, you look so pale. Should I call a doctor? Especially with the baby on the way.”

“What? Khloe Vance is pregnant? It must be Ethan Hayes’s baby. How shameless can you be?”

The murmurs grew into a wave of gossip. Flustered, Khloe tripped on the hem of her dress and fell spectacularly in front of everyone. As she scrambled to her feet, a dark red stain was spreading across her white dress.

“Ah, my baby!” she shrieked hysterically.

I watched the scene with cold eyes, then calmly dialed 911. Tonight’s performance was turning out to be far more interesting than I had planned. Not only had Khloe humiliated herself in public, but she had also announced her own pregnancy. The gossip columnists would have a field day tomorrow.

Before the ambulance arrived, I even made a point of calling Ethan for Khloe’s sake. His first reaction upon hearing his mistress had miscarried was, surprisingly, “Damn it! Now my father’s going to kill me.”

Hearing that, Khloe fainted.

I never made it to the auction. When I returned to the mansion, Ethan was in his study, smashing things like a madman. The moment he saw me, he lunged, his eyes bloodshot.

“What did you do to her?”

“Me?” I blinked innocently. “Everyone saw it. She tripped and fell all by herself. You, on the other hand—those words you said in the motel were very moving.”

Ethan froze as if struck by lightning. “You—you were spying on me.”

“That’s not important,” I said, sitting down gracefully. “What’s important is that I’ve decided to help you two get together. Let’s get a divorce.”

I tossed the word out lightly. “I’m sick and tired of this sham of a marriage.”

A flicker of relief crossed Ethan’s eyes, quickly replaced by suspicion. “What are your terms?”

“For old time’s sake, I’ll only take what I’m owed,” I said, spreading out the papers I had prepared. “This house is mine and I want five percent of your company shares.”

“That’s insane!” Ethan shot up. “Do you have any idea this house is worth ten million dollars? And forget about the shares.”

I sighed and pulled a stack of photos from a drawer. “Then I guess these photos will be sent to every news outlet tomorrow morning.”

The photos showed Ethan not only with Khloe, but with at least three other women. More damningly, there were pictures of him gambling in Atlantic City, hobnobbing with local mobsters.

“You—you—”

“I’ll give you three days. Think it over,” I said, collecting the photos. “Oh, and by the way, Khloe may have lost the baby, but I’m sure your father is relieved. He hates the Vance family, doesn’t he?”

Ethan’s head snapped up. “How do you know my father hates the Vances?”

“A lucky guess,” I smiled. “Why else would he forbid you from seeing Khloe?”

Ethan stared at me with suspicion, then stormed out of the room. I immediately called K, the investigator.

“I need you to dig into the relationship between William Hayes and Richard Vance. Focus on twenty years ago.”

After hanging up, I checked my computer for the day’s harvest. According to Khloe’s medical records, not only had she miscarried, but the trauma had damaged her uterus, making future pregnancies unlikely. An unexpected bonus.

My phone vibrated. It was a recording from my father. I put in my earbuds. Richard Vance’s furious voice filled my ears: “William, have you forgotten what happened twenty years ago? If I hadn’t taken care of that body for you—”

The recording cut off abruptly, but it was enough to send a chill down my spine. William was my father-in-law. The word body made my blood run cold. A text from my father arrived a moment later: “Sophia, come see me tomorrow. There are things I need to tell you.”

I stared at the phone screen, my heart pounding. What happened twenty years ago? Whose body was it? And could it be connected to my mother’s sudden death?

Outside, a flash of lightning split the night sky. My reflection in the window was pale and cold, my eyes burning with the fire of vengeance.

Ethan, did you think a divorce would be the end of this? No. It’s just the signal for the next act of my revenge to begin.

My father’s estate was nestled deep within a bamboo forest on the outskirts of New York. A high wall surrounded the property, with two men in black suits standing guard at the gate. During the entire drive with Marco, I couldn’t stop thinking about that recording: took care of that body. Those words were like thorns in my mind.

“We’re here, Miss Sophia,” Marco said softly.

I took a deep breath and opened the car door. My father was in the garden practicing Tai Chi. Each movement was deliberate and powerful, belying his age.

“Sophia.” He stopped and gestured for me to follow him inside. “Is your leg better?”

“I can walk without the cane now.”

I followed him into his study. The rich scent of cigars and old leather filled the air. The room was exactly as I remembered it, right down to the celadon vase my mother had cherished, still in its place. My father retrieved a yellowed envelope from his safe, his expression heavy.

“Twenty-five years ago, when your mother left me, she was already pregnant with you.”

“I know,” I nodded.

“But you don’t know why she left.” He pushed a faded photograph across the desk toward me. “Look at this man.”

In the photo, a younger William Hayes stood with a stranger in front of a construction site. They were holding champagne glasses, and a banner in the background read: breaking ceremony for Hayes Construction. The stranger had his arm around William’s shoulder, smiling broadly.

“Who is this?” I frowned.

“Christopher Vance, Richard Vance’s younger brother,” my father’s voice was ice. “And the man who murdered your mother.”

I dug my nails into my palms. “What happened back then?”

“William Hayes and the Vance family were running a redevelopment project together, using illegal demolition tactics. Someone died in the process. Christopher Vance beat a protester to death.”

My father produced another document. “Your mother happened to capture proof of it on film and was going to go to the police.”

The document contained several blurry photos. Christopher Vance was holding a steel pipe and a bloodied protester lay on the ground. The date on the photo was one week before my mother’s death.

“Christopher found out and went after her,” my father’s voice trembled slightly. “By the time I got there, it was too late.”

I stared at the photo, my vision blurring. The truth I had been told—that my mother died in an accidental fall when I was five—was a horrific lie. The police had closed the case so quickly because the Hayes and Vance families had pulled strings.

“What about Christopher Vance?” My voice was a raw whisper.

“Dead,” my father sneered. “Died in a car accident three days after the funeral.”

I looked up sharply, and the look in my father’s eyes told me it was no accident.

“William Hayes and Richard Vance covered everything up,” my father said, gathering the documents. “I’ve been collecting evidence for years, but their roots in politics and business run too deep.”

“Until you married Ethan Hayes.”

I finally understood my father’s silence. “You were waiting for me to find out the truth.”

“I didn’t want you to be blinded by revenge,” he sighed. “But now you have your own reasons to seek it.”

I stood up and walked to the window. The bamboo forests swayed in the wind, sounding like the whispers of a thousand ghosts. My gentle mother, who had taught me to paint, had met such a brutal end.

“Dad, they have to pay the price in blood,” I said, turning back to him, my voice strangely calm. “Not just Ethan, but the entire Hayes and Vance families.”

A look of satisfaction crossed my father’s eyes. “Do you have a plan?”

“First, we need to make them turn on each other.”

I opened my phone to a report Julian had just sent. The defective steel rebar used in the Hayes Construction East River project was supplied by a shell company controlled by Richard Vance.

My father’s eyes gleamed. “You’re trying to drive a wedge between them.”

“The media is already prepped,” I said, glancing at my watch. “In an hour, the news about the East River project’s potential collapse will be front-page financial news.”

My father poured me a glass of whiskey. “As for Richard Vance, I’ve already tipped off customs about his smuggling containers. They’re making their move tonight.”

Our glasses clinked. In that moment, I was truly my father’s daughter—no longer the foolish woman who cried within the confines of her marriage.

As I was leaving the estate, Marco handed me a file. “Miss Sophia, K found these internal documents from Hayes Construction.”

I skimmed through the confidential files, a smile playing on my lips. Ethan’s embezzlement was far worse than I had thought. He hadn’t just lost money gambling; he had forged board meeting minutes to secretly mortgage the company’s core assets.

“Marco, change of plans. Take me to the Hayes Construction headquarters,” I said suddenly. “It’s time to pay my dear husband a visit.”

In the top-floor boardroom of the Hayes Construction building, an emergency board meeting was underway. Through a secretary loyal to my father, I was getting a live feed of the meeting.

“The East River collapse is an accident. The media is exaggerating,” I could hear Ethan’s frantic voice through my earpiece. “The most urgent thing now is to stabilize the stock price.”

“Mr. Hayes, the problem isn’t just the media,” came an older man’s voice. It was Mr. Chen, a veteran board member. “The safety inspection report just came in. All the materials failed. The supplier is an affiliate of Vance Industries. How do you explain that?”

“I had no knowledge of this,” Ethan stammered. “That was the procurement department’s—”

“And your cousin runs the procurement department, doesn’t he?” Mr. Chen said coldly. “The board is demanding a full audit, including the whereabouts of that three million dollars you spent.”

I heard the sound of a glass shattering, followed by Ethan’s furious shout. I took out my earpiece and happily rode the elevator to the top floor.

When I opened the boardroom door, every director turned to look at me. Ethan was standing at the head of the table, his face ashen, his tie crooked. He looked like a defeated rooster.

“I apologize for the interruption,” I said with a smile, walking toward an empty seat. It was a seat my father had secured for me through his shell company’s shares. “As a major shareholder, I’d like to hear how you plan to handle the East River project.”

Ethan’s eyes widened as if they would pop out of his head. “How did you—”

“Mrs. Hayes, you may not be aware,” Mr. Chen said, standing to greet me, “but our initial investigation suggests this was caused by faulty materials, and the supplier is closely linked to Vance Industries.”

“Oh, what a coincidence,” I said, feigning surprise. “My father just received a tip that customs is raiding a Vance Industries smuggling warehouse tonight.”

The boardroom descended into chaos. The directors whispered amongst themselves, some already pulling out their phones. Ethan’s face was gray. He knew better than anyone about the dirty deals between his company and Vance Industries.

“Gentlemen,” I raised my voice, “I propose we form an independent investigation committee to thoroughly examine all transactions between our company and Vance Industries. Furthermore, given Mr. Hayes’s recent instability, I move that his duties as COO be temporarily suspended.”

“You crazy bitch!” Ethan lunged at me but was restrained by security.

“Calm down, darling,” I said softly. “This is for your own good. Just imagine if those loan documents from the Atlantic City casino and the papers mortgaging company assets were to be made public.”

Ethan froze as if choked. He finally realized the cards I held were far more than just proof of his affair.

The board passed my motions with an overwhelming majority.

As I left the building, the sky was stained a blood red, like the impending fate of the city’s power structure. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Julian: “Short sale successful. Hayes Construction stock down 60%. Acquired 11% of outstanding shares.”

A moment later, a text from my father arrived: “Customs raid successful. Richard Vance in custody for questioning.”

I let out a long breath and got into the waiting car. Marco handed me a cup of hot tea.

“Back to the safe house, Miss Sophia?”

“No—” I trailed off as a black SUV in the rearview mirror caught my eye. It had been following us since we left the building. “Marco, we have a tail.”

Marco’s eyes sharpened. He pressed his earpiece. “Team Two, two o’clock. Black Range Rover, license plate New York 8-Charles Thomas-2134. Run it.”

Less than a minute later, the reply came. “Plate is a fake, but we got a facial scan from inside the vehicle. It’s the head of security for Hayes Construction.”

“Ethan’s men,” I murmured, my eyes narrowing. “When a dog is cornered, it bites. Lose them and take me to the safe house.”

Marco wrenched the wheel and the car swerved into a narrow alley. The SUV followed close behind. The two cars engaged in a silent chase through the evening traffic of downtown Manhattan.

“Hold on, Miss Sophia,” Marco said, pressing a red button on the console. A thick cloud of smoke erupted from the back of our car. While the pursuer’s vision was obscured, Marco executed a series of sharp turns and drove into the underground parking garage of a shopping mall. We switched to a prepositioned car and smoothly exited through the rear window. I could see the SUV still circling the garage entrance.

“Ethan is starting to suspect you,” Marco’s voice was grim. “Shall I have the Don send men to take care of him?”

“No,” I sneered. “Let him. It’s time to show Ethan that I’m not an easy target.”

The safe house was a discreet penthouse my father kept in Tribeca. The first thing I did was open my laptop to check the latest news. The financial channels were all abuzz with the Hayes Construction scandal. The company’s cover-up was trending on social media. Even more interesting was the rumor spreading like wildfire that Richard Vance had been taken into custody. Whispers suggested he was smuggling not just luxury goods, but drugs and weapons. Vance Industries’ website was down and their stock was frozen.

My phone rang. It was Ethan. I let it ring ten times before answering.

“Sophia, this was you, wasn’t it?” His voice was broken. From the background noise, he was in a bar.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling,” I said, putting him on speakerphone as I continued to review documents.

“Don’t play dumb. The board meeting, the stock price, the Vances—this is all your doing. What the hell do you want?” he screamed hysterically.

“I want to know what it feels like to lose everything,” I said lightly. “Just like you made me feel.”

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of shattering glass followed by Ethan’s roar. “You just wait, you evil bitch! I’m going to make you suffer a fate worse than death!”

The line went dead. I shook my head and called Julian.

“Keep buying up Hayes Construction stock and start a rumor that Richard Vance is going to sell all his shares to pay the fines for his smuggling case.”

“Already on it,” Julian said with a laugh. “And we’ve discovered a secret Swiss bank account belonging to William Hayes. A regular amount has been deposited every month for the last five years. The recipient is Khloe Vance.”

This unexpected information made me raise an eyebrow. My father-in-law was sending Khloe money every month. Why?

“Check the memo line on those transfers,” I said, “and prepare for the next phase. We’re going to send William Hayes a very big birthday present.”

Hanging up, I walked to the window. The night was inky black, but in the distance, the lights of the Hayes Construction building still shone brightly. By tomorrow’s sunrise, the owner of that building might change.

Ethan, did you think breaking my leg would be the end of it? No. I’m going to break the very backbone of your entire family.

The night before William Hayes’s 60th birthday party, I was in my dressing room trying on a champagne-colored gown that beautifully accentuated my waist. The scar on my right leg was now just a faint line.

Marco knocked and entered, holding a velvet jewelry box. “From the Don,” he said. “It would go well with your dress tomorrow.”

Inside was a diamond necklace. At its center was a rare red diamond glowing like a drop of blood. I recognized this gem. It was my mother’s favorite.

“Where is my father?” I touched the red diamond. It was cold as ice.

“He is waiting for you in the study. Mr. Croft is also there.”

I threw on a robe and walked barefoot to the study. When I opened the door, my father and Julian were discussing something over a set of architectural blueprints. Julian was in a crisp suit, his eyes sharp behind his gold-rimmed glasses. He gave a slight nod as I entered.

“Ms. Romano—Sophia—come look at this,” my father called me over.

The blueprints were for the East River project, but instead of the luxury condos they had advertised, the actual plan showed a densely packed complex of small apartments. The floor area ratio far exceeded regulations, and the green space was cut in half.

“So, William was deceiving the city,” I said.

Julian pointed to a seal in the corner of the blueprint. “This is the final version, and construction has already begun. If this gets out, the entire project will be issued a demolition order. Hayes Construction stands to lose at least two billion dollars.”

My father handed me a USB drive. “Your birthday gift for tomorrow is ready. But there’s something even more interesting.”

I plugged the USB into my computer. Bank statements filled the screen. From William’s Swiss account, over $100,000 had been transferred to Khloe Vance every month, consistently for the past three years. The memo line always read “discretion,” but the most recent transfer was labeled “medical bills.” The date was the day after Khloe’s miscarriage.

“My father-in-law knew Khloe was pregnant,” I said, frowning.

Julian opened another file. “That’s not all. According to Khloe’s medical records, Ethan was on a business trip to Africa at the time of conception. The timeline doesn’t match.”

My eyes widened. “Then the child was—”

“What’s more interesting,” Julian adjusted his glasses, “is that William Hayes knew all of this and still helped Khloe hide the truth.”

My father sneered. “The relationship between William and Khloe might not be as simple as a father-in-law and his daughter’s friend.”

The information made my stomach turn. The Hayes family was even filthier than I had imagined.

“The press will all be at the party tomorrow,” I said, closing my laptop. “It’s time to give the Hayes family a gift they’ll never forget.”

The next day, the Hayes mansion was lavishly decorated, with a line of luxury cars pulling into the driveway. I entered the party on Ethan’s arm, playing the part of a loving wife. Since his suspension, Ethan had become noticeably subdued, like a dog with its tail between its legs. He couldn’t even look me in the eye.

“My dear, you’re here.” William greeted me with a broad smile. His eyes lingered for a moment on the red diamond necklace at my throat, and his face subtly tensed.

“It was my mother’s,” I said with a sweet smile. “I’m so glad you remember it, Father.”

William forced a composed expression and led us to the head table where high-ranking city officials and bank presidents were seated. I noticed Khloe was also there, sitting in a corner in a plain white dress. Her stomach was flat, her face pale. When she felt my gaze, she lowered her head and fiddled with her napkin.

The party reached its peak, and the MC announced the toasts. William took the stage, boasting about Hayes Construction’s achievements, never mentioning the recent scandals. Applause erupted as if the stock market crash and construction disaster had never happened.

“And finally, I thank my daughter-in-law, Sophia, for her understanding and grace,” William raised his glass as another round of applause broke out.

I gracefully stood up and walked toward the stage. Under the table, Ethan desperately tugged at my dress, but I easily sidestepped him.

“You’re too kind, Father,” I said, taking the microphone. “As the daughter-in-law of this family, I’ve prepared a special birthday present for you.”

I gave Julian a nod. He operated his laptop, and the large screen in the ballroom descended. William’s face tightened, a sense of foreboding in his eyes.

“First, let’s take a look at the actual blueprints for the East River project.”

I pressed the remote and a murmur went through the crowd. The real plans were a world away from the advertisements. Several city officials paled on the spot.

“Mr. Hayes, what is the meaning of this?” shouted the director of city planning, leaping to his feet.

“It’s a misunderstanding—All a misunderstanding—” William rushed the stage to grab the microphone, but I quickly moved on to the next slide.

“Next, we have the transaction history of Mr. William Hayes’s Swiss bank account. For the past three years, you’ve transferred over $100,000 a month to Miss Khloe Vance.”

The ballroom fell dead silent as the clear bank records appeared on the screen. Khloe screamed and ran for the exit, but was stopped by security.

“And finally—” My voice suddenly turned sharp. “Miss Khloe Vance’s pregnancy diagnosis. If you calculate the date of conception, my husband was on a business trip in Africa.”

“That’s a lie!” Ethan shot up from his seat.

“I also have the DNA test results right here,” I said calmly, displaying the final slide. “Darling, the results say the child was—my child.”

The ballroom exploded as if a bomb had gone off. Ethan, like an enraged lion, tried to rush the stage, but was restrained by Marco. William, his face ashen, dropped his champagne glass.

“But there’s something even more interesting,” I said, playing an audio file. In the recording, William was telling Khloe, “You have the baby. We’ll make Ethan accept it as his own. The Hayes family needs this child to secure the Vance inheritance.”

Hearing this, Ethan turned and punched his father in the face. The situation devolved into complete chaos. The board members left. The bankers tore up their loan agreements, and the reporters snapped photos furiously.

I descended from the stage gracefully, walking out of the ballroom through a sea of shocked and struck stares. Behind me, I could hear Ethan’s roars and William’s sobs. Khloe had collapsed on the floor, but no one paid her any mind.

As I got into the waiting car, I let out a long breath.

“Where to, Miss Sophia?” Marco asked.

“To the hospital. I want to see something for myself.”

I looked at my phone. The post-miscarriage medical report for Khloe had just arrived.

We were halfway there when Marco suddenly swerved the car. “We’re being followed.”

A loud crash sent our car slamming into the guardrail. I was thrown forward, hitting my head on the back of the front seat. Stars exploded in my vision. Through the rear window, I saw a black unmarked SUV hurtling toward us.

“Get down!” Marco yelled, pushing my head down. The SUV crashed into us again, this time hitting the passenger door.

In that instant, two motorcycles roared onto the scene, their riders firing at the SUV’s tires. The SUV lost control, flipped several times, and crashed into the guardrail.

“They’re from the Don,” Marco said, quickly reversing the car and speeding away from the scene. “Are you all right?”

I touched the growing lump on my forehead and gave a cold smile. “Ethan must be truly desperate.”

Back at the safe house, I called my father. “Dad, Ethan sent people after me. No, I’m fine. I handled it.”

After the call, I checked the security footage from the Hayes mansion. As expected, Ethan and Khloe were having a violent argument.

“This is all your fault! Now that bitch knows everything. We’re finished!” Ethan screamed.

Khloe sneered back. “Your father didn’t seem to think so when he was sleeping with me. All you Hayes men are the same.”

“Shut up!” Ethan lunged and began to choke her.

“I could kill you!”

Khloe struggled, then grabbed a fruit knife from the table and slashed Ethan across the face. He screamed and let go, and she used the chance to flee the room.

I turned off the feed, lost in thought. This dogfight was more entertaining than I’d anticipated.

Just then, Julian called. “Sophia, the emergency board meeting is over. Ethan has been officially fired and William Hayes was admitted to the hospital with a heart attack. The stock hit limit down again,” Julian said with a light laugh. “We now hold 18% of the shares. With the support of a few minority shareholders, it’s enough to initiate a hostile takeover.”

“It’s not enough,” I said, walking to the window. The night was pitch black. “I need to see Hayes Construction completely destroyed.”

I hung up and opened my safe, taking out a long-sealed document—a copy of my mother’s diary. Inside, she had detailed the entire process of discovering the crimes of the Hayes and Vance families. The final entry was dated the day before her fatal fall.

“Mom, it’s almost over,” I whispered. “None of them will get away.”