If you ever touch Selina again, I swear to God I will kill you.”

The arrest was broadcast live across three television networks.

News helicopters hovered above the Boston Harbor Hotel, their spotlights tracking Julian and Selina as they were led out of the grand lobby in separate pairs of handcuffs. Julian looked utterly broken, his head bowed, weeping and babbling incoherently. Selina, however, fought like a cornered beast, screaming profanities at the cameras, her designer gown torn at the hem as officers forced her into the back of a police cruiser.

Standing on the hotel’s private balcony overlooking the cold Atlantic harbor, I wrapped Liam’s heavy wool overcoat around my shoulders. The crisp night air felt clean against my skin, washing away the stench of blood and hospital antiseptic.

Liam stepped out onto the balcony, holding two cups of warm tea. He handed one to me.

“The FBI just executed search warrants on Selina’s offshore accounts and her private residence in Beacon Hill,” Liam said quietly. “They found the original utility blade in her vanity, along with shredded accounting documents from Vance Capital. Her bail was denied twenty minutes ago. The judge considered her an extreme flight risk.”

I took a slow sip of the tea, feeling its warmth spread through my chest. “And Julian?”

“Julian is currently in a suicide watch cell at Suffolk County Jail,” Liam replied, his jaw tight. “He’s singing like a canary. He’s already given a sworn confession detailing how Selina orchestrated the entire plan, from the fake scratch to the offshore shell company. He thinks cooperating will save him from a twenty-year sentence.”

“Will it?” I asked, turning to look at him.

Liam smiled—a fierce, uncompromising smile. “Not a chance. The Commonwealth is charging them jointly with attempted first-degree murder of both you and an unborn child. In Massachusetts, an assault on a pregnant woman carrying a viable fetus carries enhanced mandatory sentencing. Julian will spend at least twenty-five years behind bars. Selina will likely spend the rest of her life in Framingham State Prison.”

A soft, fluttering movement occurred deep within my belly—clearer and stronger than ever before.

I placed my hand against my stomach, closed my eyes, and let out a long, ragged breath that I felt like I had been holding for eight months.

“The board met in an emergency session half an hour ago,” Liam added gently. “Julian’s shares have been stripped due to the moral turpitude clause in the corporate charter. Your sixty percent marital equity, combined with my family’s voting block, gives you complete majority control of Vance Capital.”

I opened my eyes, looking out over the glittering lights of Boston.

“I don’t want the firm named Vance Capital anymore,” I said softly.

Liam smiled. “What do you want to call it?”

“Aegis,” I said, the ancient Greek word for protection and shield. “Aegis Global. And I want thirty percent of our annual profits permanently redirected toward establishing safe houses, legal defense funds, and medical support for women surviving domestic abuse.”

Liam looked at me with deep, unwavering respect. “Consider it done, Chairman Vance.”