I came back from the restroom and found my best friend sitting on my husband’s lap in the middle of a crowded birthday dinner.

“You wanted to capture the screaming match,” I continued, my voice echoing with terrifying serenity across the vast suite. “You wanted the audio of David breaking down, of me sobbing, of our marriage imploding on Eleanor’s porch so you could sell it to the highest bidder alongside Arthur’s debt extortion.”

Arthur set his glass down on the table, his vulture eyes narrowing. “What is she talking about?”

“Your client became greedy, Arthur,” I said, opening my manila folder. “She didn't just plant a listener. She activated it through an unsecured cellular relay tied to her prepaid phone. A phone paid for by Arthur Vance’s corporate expense card.”

Marcus Rivera stepped out from the elevator vestibule behind us, accompanied by two agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, their golden badges gleaming under the crystal chandeliers.

Arthur shot up from his chair, his frail frame trembling with sudden, paralyzed shock. “What is the meaning of this? Julian! Where is Julian?”

“Julian Mercer surrendered his cooperation two hours ago at the Dirksen Federal Building, Arthur,” David spoke, his deep voice carrying the absolute finality of an executioner’s blade. “The moment he realized you were using corporate funds to extort a federal defense infrastructure contractor—which Sterling Vance Holdings became last month—he traded you for immunity.”

Victoria dropped her champagne glass. It shattered against the parquet floor, crystal shards and pale foam spraying across the hem of her expensive emerald gown.

“No...” she whispered, clutching her throat. “No, that’s impossible! We had the leverage! David, you can’t let her do this to me! You know what we shared!”

“We shared nothing, Victoria,” David said, his voice dripping with utter disgust. “You were a cancer that tried to eat its way into my family. And now, you’re just evidence.”

Agent Miller of the FBI stepped forward, producing a pair of steel handcuffs. “Arthur Vance, Victoria Ross, you are under arrest for federal extortion, interstate wire fraud, and witness tampering.”

As the cold steel clicked around Victoria’s wrists, she began to scream—a shrill, undignified wail of frantic denial. She looked at me, her eyes wild, searching for a single crack in my armor, a single flicker of triumph or petty vengeance.