On my wedding day, my younger sister threw champagne in my face

Friday arrived with the dramatic grandeur of a Shakespearean tragedy.

The private bankruptcy auction took place in the grand ballroom of the Manhattan Financial Exchange. Society elites, venture capitalists, and ruthless hedge fund managers filled the velvet seats, eager to scavenge the remnants of the once-mighty Sterling empire.

My father was not present; he was currently sitting in a holding cell at the Metropolitan Detention Center, awaiting trial on thirteen federal counts.

Mark had been arrested the night before at JFK airport, caught attempting to board a chartered flight to Costa Rica with two duffel bags containing bearer bonds and stolen jewelry. His mugshot—disheveled, weeping, handcuffed in a designer suit—was already plastering every newsstand in America.

Lily had been left completely stranded in the Hamptons estate, which had just been served with an eviction notice by the federal marshals.

I walked into the ballroom on Julian Vance's arm.

I wore an exquisite emerald green velvet gown that hugged my frame with regal elegance, paired with a diamond choker that had once belonged to my grandmother. Whispers rippled through the room like wildfire as the elite parted like the Red Sea to let us pass.

"Lot 402," the auctioneer’s voice boomed through the microphone. "Fifty-one percent controlling interest in Sterling Global Holdings, inclusive of all domestic real estate assets and brand equity. Opening bid set at twenty million dollars."

A rival venture capitalist raised his paddle. "Twenty-two million."

"Twenty-five million," called another hedge fund director from the front row.

"Thirty million," Julian bid smoothly, not even glancing at the competition.

The room grew tense. Thirty million was a staggering liquidity drop for an empire currently tangled in legal scandal.

"Thirty million to Mr. Vance," the auctioneer called out. "Do I hear thirty-two? Thirty-two million?"

The room remained dead quiet. No one was foolish enough to enter a bidding war against Julian Vance and the daughter who had just single-handedly dismantled the founding family.

"Going once... going twice..." The wooden gavel hovered in the air.

*Bang!*

"Sold to Vance-Sterling Enterprises for thirty million dollars!"

A round of polite, hesitant applause echoed throughout the grand hall. I stood up slowly, looking up at the high gilded ceiling. For twenty-six years, I had been told that my purpose was to serve the family name, to dim my light so Lily could shine, to accept whatever scraps of love my parents chose to throw my way.

Now, the Sterling name belonged entirely to me.

Julian leaned down slightly, his breath warm against my ear as the photographers’ flashbulbs began to erupt around us. "Congratulations, Madam Chairman. How does victory taste?"