For seven years, my husband and his wealthy family treated me like an unpaid servant because they believed I was a penniless woman Grant had rescued from a shabby apartment.

Marcus Vance stepped past Grant, walking down the steps of the dais toward Table 12, where Mavis, Brielle, and Delaney were standing in frozen terror.

The entire ballroom was now quiet. Word had spread like wildfire from table to table. The mysterious billionaire investor who had arrived in the Valerie Emeralds was none other than the "poor, pathetic wife" Grant Holloway had been boasting about shielding from high society.

"Mrs. Mavis Holloway," Marcus’s voice rang out clearly, carrying through the high-ceilinged room.

Mavis clutched her pearl necklace, her hands shaking so hard her champagne glass shattered on the floor, echoing the porcelain I had dropped hours earlier.

"Y-yes?" she squeaked.

"As of 8:00 p.m. tonight, Bellamy Capital has executed the acceleration clause on the personal mortgage of the Holloway Palm Beach Estate," Marcus read from a leather binder. "Since the property was used as secondary collateral for the corporate credit line—which is now in default—you have forty-eight hours to vacate the premises. The estate will be placed up for public auction."

"What?!" Mavis shrieked, clutching her chest. "You can't do that! That's my home! Grant, do something!"

Grant was still on his knees near Table 1, looking like a man who had been struck by lightning. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak.

Marcus turned his gaze to Brielle. "Ms. Brielle Holloway. Your fashion boutique, Maison de Brielle, has been operating under a lease owned by Bellamy Commercial Real Estate. Due to five consecutive quarters of non-payment, which were previously waived by private order of the Chairwoman, an eviction notice has been served to your store manager thirty minutes ago. The inventory has been seized."

"My store?!" Brielle screamed, bursting into hysterical tears. "No! That's my life! You can't take my store!"

Finally, Marcus turned to Delaney Cross, who was trying to subtly step back into the crowd and slide her burgundy handbag behind her back.

"Ms. Delaney Cross," Marcus said, his voice laced with icy professional disdain. "As the Director of Corporate Relations for Holloway Logistics, you have been found to be in possession of corporate funds used for personal enrichment—specifically, forty-two thousand dollars in luxury jewelry purchased on company accounts."

Delaney gasped, her face flushing crimson. "That... those were business expenses!"

"The Board of Directors of Bellamy Capital disagrees," Marcus replied coldness. "A formal criminal referral for corporate embezzlement has been filed with the State Prosecutor’s office. Officers are currently waiting outside the hotel main entrance to escort you in for questioning."

Delaney dropped her handbag, her eyes wide with terror as two uniformed police officers stepped through the glass doors of the lobby, scanning the room for her.

The room erupted into hushed whispers and furious chatter. The socialites who had spent years nodding along to Mavis’s arrogant boasting were now staring at the Holloway family with open disgust and satisfaction.

"They were living on her charity..." a woman at a nearby table whispered loudly. "And they treated her like a servant!"

"Unbelievable... he took his mistress to the gala while his wife was paying his mortgage!" another added.

I stood up from the central benefactor’s table.

The heavy silk of my velvet gown rustled softly as I walked down the steps of the dais. The crowd parted instantly, creating a wide path for me as I walked toward the disgraced group at Table 12.

Grant scrambled up from his knees, rushing down the steps after me, trailing behind like a frantic dog.

"Seraphina! Please! Listen to me!" Grant cried, grabbing at my elbow.

I stopped, turning around slowly. I didn't pull away this time. I simply looked at his hand on my sleeve until he felt so humiliated he let go himself.

"You said something to me before you left the house tonight, Grant," I said, my voice smooth, quiet, and deadly. "Do you remember what it was?"

Grant swallowed hard, tears welling in his eyes. "Seraphina... I didn't mean it..."

"You said: 'I gave you this house. I gave you this name. I gave you this life.'" I stepped closer to him, my green eyes blazing like live coals. "Look around you, Grant. Look at this room. Look at your mother weeping. Look at your mistress in handcuffs. Look at your company collapsing into dust."