His mistress dropped her engagement ring into my champagne and told me to raise a toast to their future.

The 48th floor of the Sterling Tower was surrounded by a wall of television cameras, flashing lights, and private security guards struggling to hold back the press.

Julian Sterling strode into the executive boardroom looking like a caged animal. His tie was crooked, his designer suit wrinkled, and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed a night of panicked phone calls to politicians and bankers who had suddenly blocked his number.

At the head of the long obsidian conference table sat Arthur Sterling, clutching his gold-headed cane with knuckles white as bone.

"Where is she?" Julian demanded, slamming the double doors behind him. "Where is Ava?"

"Sit down, Julian," Arthur rasped, his voice trembling. "The board members aren't answering their phones. Even our personal security detail was replaced this morning by an independent firm."

The side door to the executive suite swung open.

I walked into the boardroom, flanked by Marcus Thorne and two federal investigators in plain dark suits. Behind us walked a man in his late fifties wearing an overcoat and rimless glasses—Dr. Harrison.

When Arthur saw the doctor, his face drained of every ounce of blood. His cane clattered to the floor, rolling uselessly across the polished hardwood.

"Harrison..." Arthur gasped, clutching his chest. "You... you were in Switzerland."

"The Swiss authorities cooperated fully with the federal subpoena, Arthur," Dr. Harrison said, his voice thick with shame. "I handed over the original prescription orders. And the voice memos Julian sent me instructing the digitalis dosage."

Julian lunged across the table toward the doctor, his eyes wild with fury. "You coward! You sold us out!"

Before Julian could reach him, the two federal agents intercepted him, slamming him chest-first against the glass table with practiced precision. The loud crack of metal handcuffs echoed through the vast room.

"Julian Sterling, you are under arrest for corporate embezzlement, wire fraud, conspiracy to commit murder, and the first-degree murder of Thomas Vance," the lead agent recited in a flat, monotone voice.

"Get off me!" Julian screamed, struggling against the cuffs as his cheek was pressed hard against the glass. "Ava! Tell them! This is a setup! You manipulated the files! You set me up!"

I walked over to where Julian lay pinned against the table.

I looked down at the man who had stood at an altar seven years ago, promising to honor and protect me, all while calculating the exact monetary value of my father’s life.

"I didn't set you up, Julian," I said softly, looking directly into his terrified eyes. "You wrote the entire script yourself. The stolen money, the offshore accounts, the forged signatures, the poison in my father's IV line... and even the diamond ring you bought for Sloane with my trust money."

I reached into my pocket and took out the five-carat diamond ring, still slightly damp from the ice bucket the night before.

I set it down on the glass table, inches from his face.

"You told the dining room last night that this was a toast to the future," I said. "Consider your future officially paid for."

Arthur tried to stand, leaning against the chair, his breath coming in shallow wheezes. "Ava... please... spare the family name. We gave you everything..."

"You gave me lies, Arthur," I said, turning my back on him. "And today, the Vance name takes everything back."

The boardroom doors opened wide, and uniform officers stepped inside to lead Arthur Sterling and Julian Sterling out into the hallway.

As Julian was dragged past the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline, flashbulbs erupted through the glass doors. The entire financial world was watching the collapse of the Sterling dynasty in real time.

Marcus stepped up beside me, handing me a leather-bound folio stamped with the seal of the New York State Surrogate's Court.

"All Vance holdings have been restored to your sole control," Marcus said quietly. "Whitaker Logistics has filed for bankruptcy, and Sloane Whitaker has officially entered a guilty plea to grand larceny."

I took a deep, steady breath. The air felt clean for the first time in years.

"What's the next step, Ms. Vance?" Marcus asked.