"She thought humiliating another woman in public would make her feel powerful...

Three weeks had passed since the arrest of Arthur and Victoria Vance. The news of the double scandal had rocked the financial world, but the narrative had completely shifted. Elena was no longer viewed as an illegitimate outsider; she was praised across major publications as a master forensic strategist who had brought down one of the most corrupt dynasties in modern history.

However, one final hurdle remained before full legal control of her father's technology could be restored to her: the annual Metropolitan Heritage Gala.

The Gala was the premier high-society event of the year, attended by international investors, politicians, and supreme court justices. It was also where the final public auction of distressed corporate assets—including the remaining contested shares of Vance Enterprises—was scheduled to take place.

Inside the grand ballroom of the Crystal Palace Hotel, under shimmering chandeliers and amidst soundscapes of classical violin music, hundreds of guests mingled in black-tie attire.

Elena stepped onto the red carpet wearing a breathtaking emerald-green silk gown that complemented her blonde hair, holding Julian’s arm. Her posture was radiant, calm, and completely regal. The very same elite crowd that had whispered sneers behind her back at the restaurant three weeks ago now parted respectfully, offering warm smiles and subtle nods of admiration.

"Look at them," Elena whispered softly to Julian as they walked toward the VIP lounge. "Three weeks ago, I was a 'shameless home-wrecker' in their eyes. Now they act like they always believed in me."

"People bow to power and truth, Elena," Julian replied quietly, looking down at her with quiet pride. "You gave them the truth. Now you hold the power."

"Not completely," Elena noted, glancing toward the high table at the front of the ballroom. "Lady Genevieve is here."

Julian’s expression darkened slightly. Lady Genevieve Vance—Arthur’s mother and the matriarch of the Vance family bloodline— sat in a high-backed velvet chair near the auction stage. Though in her late seventies, Genevieve possessed an iron grip on the remaining old-money faction of the city. She had remained silent during Victoria and Arthur’s arrests, but she held the final voting proxy that could block Elena from reclaiming her father's master patent during tonight's auction.

"She won't yield easily," Julian warned. "Genevieve cares about one thing above all else: the Vance family legacy. She views your father's work as family property, regardless of how Arthur obtained it."

"Then I'll have to convince her that legacy isn't built on theft," Elena said firmly.

Leaving Julian to handle the arriving board members, Elena walked calmly toward the high table where Genevieve sat, flanked by two stern personal assistants.

Genevieve watched Elena approach, her sharp blue eyes cold and calculating behind silver-rimmed reading glasses.

"The victorious girl returns," Genevieve said, her voice thin but commandingly clear. "You've put my son in a federal holding cell and my granddaughter on suicide watch in county jail. I suppose you expect me to applaud your efficiency, Elena?"

Elena stopped beside the table, keeping her head held high. "I didn't put them there, Lady Genevieve. Their own actions did. I simply pulled back the curtain."

"And in doing so, you dragged our family name through the mud," Genevieve spat quietly. "The Vance name meant something in this city for fifty years."

"My name is Vance too," Elena said softly, stepping closer so only Genevieve could hear. "My father was Richard Vance. He built the very tech that funded your lifestyle for two decades. You knew what Arthur did to him fifteen years ago, didn't you?"

Genevieve’s hands, covered in diamonds, twitched slightly against her cane. She didn't answer immediately, looking away toward the grand ballroom.

"I turned a blind eye to save the family empire," Genevieve confessed, her voice dropping into a barely audible whisper. "Arthur was ruthless, but he kept the business alive."

"He built a fortress out of sand, Genevieve," Elena said with deep conviction. "Tonight, the auction will sell off the remaining assets. You hold the controlling proxy vote. You can either use it to drag this battle out in court for another five years while the family name rots—or you can pass the patent to me and let Richard Vance's true legacy save what's left of your honor."

Genevieve looked at Elena, seeing for the first time not an enemy, but the undeniable gaze of her late son, Richard—brilliant, uncompromising, and honest.